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diff --git a/22754-h/22754-h.htm b/22754-h/22754-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b679263 --- /dev/null +++ b/22754-h/22754-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13572 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Masters of Space, By Edward E. Smith & E. Everett Evans + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h2 {margin-top: 2em; + text-align: center;} + + .h2title {text-align: left;} + + h1 {text-align: left;} + + hr {width: 33%; + visibility: hidden; + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: .5em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: 0.25em; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: .25em 1em; text-align: justify;} + + .trnhd {text-align: center; font-size: larger; font-weight: bold;} + + img {border: none;} + + a:link {text-decoration:none;} + a:visited {text-decoration:none;} + + .cpoem {width: 30em; margin: 0 auto;} + + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; + margin:0 .1em 0 0; + padding:0; + line-height: .8em; font-size: 2.5em;} + + .illo {margin-bottom: 2em; margin-top: 1.5em; + font-weight: bold; text-align: left;} + .tease {margin-top: 5em; font-weight: bold;} + .tease1 {float: right; width: 16em; margin: 0 auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;} + .theend {text-align: right; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + .head1 {text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-size:larger;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Masters of Space, by +Edward Elmer Smith and Edward Everett Evans + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Masters of Space + +Author: Edward Elmer Smith + Edward Everett Evans + +Illustrator: Berry + +Release Date: September 24, 2007 [EBook #22754] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTERS OF SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Stephen Blundell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="tease1"> +<p class="tease">The Masters had ruled all space +with an unconquerable iron fist. But +the Masters were gone. And this new, +young race who came now to take their +place—could they hope to defeat the +ancient Enemy of All?</p></div> + + +<p class="head1">PART ONE</p> + + +<h1>MASTERS<br /> +OF<br /> +SPACE</h1> + + +<h2 class="h2title">By EDWARD E. SMITH &<br /> +E. EVERETT EVANS</h2> + + +<p class="illo">Illustrated by BERRY</p> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> + + +<p class="cap">"BUT didn't you feel <i>anything</i>, +Javo?" Strain +was apparent in every line of +Tula's taut, bare body. "Nothing +at all?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever." The +one called Javo relaxed from +his rigid concentration. +"Nothing has changed. Nor +will it."</p> + +<p>"That conclusion is indefensible!" +Tula snapped. +"With the promised return of +the Masters there must and +will be changes. Didn't <i>any</i> +of you feel anything?"</p> + +<p>Her hot, demanding eyes +swept the group; a group +whose like, except for physical +perfection, could be found +in any nudist colony.</p> + +<p>No one except Tula had +felt a thing.</p> + +<p>"That fact is not too surprising," +Javo said finally. +"You have the most sensitive +receptors of us all. But are +you sure?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure. It was the +thought-form of a living +Master."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that the +Master perceived your web?"</p> + +<p>"It is certain. Those who +built us are stronger than +we."</p> + +<p>"That is true. As they +promised, then, so long and +long ago, our Masters are returning +home to us."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Jarvis Hilton of Terra, the +youngest man yet to be assigned +to direct any such tremendous +deep-space undertaking +as Project Theta Orionis, +sat in conference with +his two seconds-in-command. +Assistant Director Sandra +Cummings, analyst-synthesist +and semantician, was tall, +blonde and svelte. Planetographer +William Karns—a +black-haired, black-browed, +black-eyed man of thirty—was +third in rank of the scientific +group.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you, Jarve, you +can't have it both ways," +Karns declared. "Captain +Sawtelle is old-school Navy +brass. He goes strictly by the +book. So you've got to draw +a razor-sharp line; exactly +where the Advisory Board's +directive puts it. And next +time he sticks his ugly puss +across that line, kick his face +in. You've been Caspar Milquetoast +Two ever since we +left Base."</p> + +<p>"That's the way it looks to +you?" Hilton's right hand became +a fist. "The man has +age, experience and ability. +I've been trying to meet him +on a ground of courtesy and +decency."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. And he doesn't +recognize the existence of +either. And, since the Board +rammed you down his throat +instead of giving him old +Jeffers, you needn't expect +him to."</p> + +<p>"You may be right, Bill. +What do you think, Dr. Cummings?"</p> + +<p>The girl said: "Bill's right. +Also, your constant appeasement +isn't doing the morale +of the whole scientific group +a bit of good."</p> + +<p>"Well, I haven't enjoyed it, +either. So next time I'll pin +his ears back. Anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dr. Hilton, I have a +squawk of my own. I know I +was rammed down your +throat, but just when are you +going to let me do some +work?"</p> + +<p>"None of us has much of +anything to do yet, and won't +have until we light somewhere. +You're off base a +country mile."</p> + +<p>"I'm not off base. You <i>did</i> +want Eggleston, not me."</p> + +<p>"Sure I did. I've worked +with him and know what he +can do. But I'm not holding a +grudge about it."</p> + +<p>"No? Why, then, are you +on first-name terms with +everyone in the scientific +group except me? Supposedly +your first assistant?"</p> + +<p>"That's easy!" Hilton +snapped. "Because you've +been carrying chips on both +shoulders ever since you +came aboard ... or at least I +thought you were." Hilton +grinned suddenly and held +out his hand. "Sorry, Sandy—I'll +start all over again."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry too, Chief." +They shook hands warmly. +"I <i>was</i> pretty stiff, I guess, +but I'll be good."</p> + +<p>"You'll go to work right +now, too. As semantician. Dig +out that directive and tear it +down. Draw that line Bill +talked about."</p> + +<p>"Can do, boss." She swung +to her feet and walked out of +the room, her every movement +one of lithe and easy +grace.</p> + +<p>Karns followed her with +his eyes. "Funny. A trained-dancer +Ph.D. And a Miss +America type, like all the +other women aboard this +spacer. I wonder if she'll +make out."</p> + +<p>"So do I. I still wish they'd +given me Eggy. I've never +seen an executive-type female +Ph.D. yet that was worth the +cyanide it would take to poison +her."</p> + +<p>"That's what Sawtelle +thinks of you, too, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I know; and the Board +<i>does</i> know its stuff. So I'm +really hoping, Bill, that she +surprises me as much as I intend +to surprise the Navy."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">ALARM bells clanged as +the mighty <i>Perseus</i> +blinked out of overdrive. +Every crewman sprang to his +post.</p> + +<p>"Mister Snowden, why did +we emerge without orders +from me?" Captain Sawtelle +bellowed, storming into the +control room three jumps behind +Hilton.</p> + +<p>"The automatics took control, +sir," he said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Automatics! I <i>give</i> the orders!"</p> + +<p>"In this case, Captain Sawtelle, +you don't," Hilton said. +Eyes locked and held. To +Sawtelle, this was a new and +strange co-commander. "I +would suggest that we discuss +this matter in private."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," Sawtelle +said; and in the captain's +cabin Hilton opened up.</p> + +<p>"For your information, +Captain Sawtelle, I set my +inter-space coupling detectors +for any objective I choose. +When any one of them reacts, +it trips the kickers and we +emerge. During any emergency +outside the Solar System +I am in command—with +the provision that I must relinquish +command to you in +case of armed attack on us."</p> + +<p>"Where do you think you +found any such stuff as that +in the directive? It isn't there +and I know my rights."</p> + +<p>"It is, and you don't. Here +is a semantic chart of the +whole directive. As you will +note, it overrides many Navy +regulations. Disobedience of +my orders constitutes mutiny +and I can—and will—have +you put in irons and sent +back to Terra for court-martial. +Now let's go back."</p> + +<p>In the control room, Hilton +said, "The target has a mass +of approximately five hundred +metric tons. There is +also a significant amount of +radiation characteristic of +uranexite. You will please execute +search, Captain Sawtelle."</p> + +<p>And Captain Sawtelle ordered +the search.</p> + +<p>"What did you do to the +big jerk, boss?" Sandra whispered.</p> + +<p>"What you and Bill suggested," +Hilton whispered +back. "Thanks to your analysis +of the directive—pure +gobbledygook if there ever +was any—I could. Mighty +good job, Sandy."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">TEN or fifteen more minutes +passed. Then:</p> + +<p>"Here's the source of radiation, +sir," a searchman reported. +"It's a point source, +though, not an object at this +range."</p> + +<p>"And here's the artifact, +sir," Pilot Snowden said. +"We're coming up on it fast. +But ... but what's a <i>skyscraper</i> +skeleton doing out here in +interstellar space?"</p> + +<p>As they closed up, everyone +could see that the thing +did indeed look like the +metallic skeleton of a great +building. It was a huge cube, +measuring well over a hundred +yards along each edge. +And it was empty.</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> one for the book," +Sawtelle said.</p> + +<p>"And how!" Hilton agreed. +"I'll take a boat ... no, suits +would be better. Karns, Yarborough, +get Techs Leeds and +Miller and suit up."</p> + +<p>"You'll need a boat escort," +Sawtelle said. "Mr. Ashley, +execute escort Landing Craft +One, Two, and Three."</p> + +<p>The three landing craft approached +that enigmatic lattice-work +of structural steel +and stopped. Five grotesquely +armored figures wafted +themselves forward on pencils +of force. Their leader, +whose suit bore the number +"14", reached a mammoth +girder and worked his way +along it up to a peculiar-looking +bulge. The whole immense +structure vanished, leaving +men and boats in empty +space.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle gasped. "Snowden! +Are you holding 'em?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Faster than light; +hyperspace, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ashby, did you have +your interspace rigs set?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I didn't think of +it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Cummings, why +weren't yours out?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think of such a +thing, either—any more than +you did," Sandra said.</p> + +<p>Ashby, the Communications +Officer, had been working +the radio. "No reply from +anyone, sir," he reported.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" Sandra exclaimed. +Then, "But look! +They're firing pistols—especially +the one wearing number +fourteen—but <i>pistols</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Recoil pistols—sixty-threes—for +emergency use in +case of power failure," Ashby +explained. "That's it ... but I +can't see why <i>all</i> their power +went out at once. But Fourteen—that's +Hilton—is really +doing a job with that sixty-three. +He'll be here in a couple +of minutes."</p> + +<p>And he was. "Every power +unit out there—suits +and boats both—drained," +Hilton reported. "<i>Completely</i> +drained. Get some help +out there fast!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>In an enormous structure +deep below the surface of a +far-distant world a group of +technicians clustered together +in front of one section of +a two-miles long control +board. They were staring at a +light that had just appeared +where no light should have +been.</p> + +<p>"Someone's brain-pan will +be burned out for this," one +of the group radiated harshly. +"That unit was inactivated +long ago and it has not been +reactivated."</p> + +<p>"Someone committed an error, +Your Loftiness?"</p> + +<p>"Silence, fool! Stretts do +not commit errors!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AS soon as it was clear that +no one had been injured, +Sawtelle demanded, "How +about it, Hilton?"</p> + +<p>"Structurally, it was high-alloy +steel. There were many +bulges, possibly containing +mechanisms. There were +drive-units of a non-Terran +type. There were many projectors, +which—at a rough +guess—were a hundred times +as powerful as any I have +ever seen before. There were +no indications that the thing +had ever been enclosed, in +whole or in part. It certainly +never had living quarters for +warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing +eaters of organic food."</p> + +<p>Sawtelle snorted. "You +mean it never had a crew?"</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily...."</p> + +<p>"Bah! What other kind of +intelligent life is there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But before +we speculate too much, let's +look at the tri-di. The camera +may have caught something I +missed."</p> + +<p>It hadn't. The three-dimensional +pictures added nothing.</p> + +<p>"It probably was operated +either by programmed automatics +or by remote control," +Hilton decided, finally. "But +how did they drain all our +power? And just as bad, what +and how is that other point +source of power we're heading +for now?"</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with it?" +Sawtelle asked.</p> + +<p>"Its strength. No matter +what distance or reactant I +assume, nothing we know will +fit. Neither fission nor fusion +will do it. It has to be practically +total conversion!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE <i>Perseus</i> snapped out +of overdrive near the point +of interest and Hilton stared, +motionless and silent.</p> + +<p>Space was full of madly +warring ships. Half of them +were bare, giant skeletons of +steel, like the "derelict" that +had so unexpectedly blasted +away from them. The others +were more or less like the +<i>Perseus</i>, except in being bigger, +faster and of vastly +greater power.</p> + +<p>Beams of starkly incredible +power bit at and clung to +equally capable defensive +screens of pure force. As +these inconceivable forces +met, the glare of their neutralization +filled all nearby +space. And ships and skeletons +alike were disappearing +in chunks, blobs, gouts, +streamers and sparkles of +rended, fused and vaporized +metal.</p> + +<p>Hilton watched two ships +combine against one skeleton. +Dozens of beams, incredibly +tight and hard, were held inexorably +upon dozens of +the bulges of the skeleton. +Overloaded, the bulges' +screens flared through the +spectrum and failed. And +bare metal, however refractory, +endures only for instants +under the appalling intensity +of such beams as +those.</p> + +<p>The skeletons tried to duplicate +the ships' method of +attack, but failed. They were +too slow. Not slow, exactly, +either, but hesitant; as though +it required whole seconds for +the commander—or operator? +Or remote controller?—of +each skeleton to make it act. +The ships were winning.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Hilton yelped. "Oh—that's +the one we saw back +there. But what in all space +does it think it's doing?"</p> + +<p>It was plunging at tremendous +speed straight through +the immense fleet of embattled +skeletons. It did not fire +a beam nor energize a screen; +it merely plunged along as +though on a plotted course +until it collided with one of +the skeletons of the fleet and +both structures plunged, a +tangled mass of wreckage, to +the ground of the planet below.</p> + +<p>Then hundreds of the ships +shot forward, each to plunge +into and explode inside one of +the skeletons. When visibility +was restored another wave of +ships came forward to repeat +the performance, but there +was nothing left to fight. +Every surviving skeleton had +blinked out of normal space.</p> + +<p>The remaining ships made +no effort to pursue the skeletons, +nor did they re-form as +a fleet. Each ship went off +by itself.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>And on that distant planet +of the Stretts the group of +mechs watched with amazed +disbelief as light after light +after light winked out on +their two-miles-long control +board. Frantically they relayed +orders to the skeletons; +orders which did not affect +the losses.</p> + +<p>"Brain-pans will blacken +for this ..." a mental snarl +began, to be interrupted by a +coldly imperious thought.</p> + +<p>"That long-dead unit, so inexplicably +reactivated, is approaching +the fuel world. It +is ignoring the battle. It is +heading through our fleet toward +the Oman half ... <i>handle</i> +it, ten-eighteen!"</p> + +<p>"It does not respond, Your +Loftiness."</p> + +<p>"Then blast it, fool! Ah, it +is inactivated. As encyclopedist, +Nine, explain the +freakish behavior of that +unit."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Your Loftiness. Many +cycles ago we sent a ship +against the Omans with a new +device of destruction. The +Omans must have intercepted +it, drained it of power and allowed +it to drift on. After all +these cycles of time it must +have come upon a small +source of power and of course +continued its mission."</p> + +<p>"That can be the truth. The +Lords of the Universe must +be informed."</p> + +<p>"The mining units, the carriers +and the refiners have +not been affected, Your Loftiness," +a mech radiated.</p> + +<p>"So I see, fool." Then, activating +another instrument, +His Loftiness thought at it, +in an entirely different vein, +"Lord Ynos, Madam? I have +to make a very grave report...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">IN the <i>Perseus</i>, four scientists +and three Navy officers +were arguing heatedly; +employing deep-space verbiage +not to be found in any +dictionary. "Jarve!" Karns +called out, and Hilton joined +the group. "Does anything +about this planet make any +sense to you?"</p> + +<p>"No. But you're the planetographer. +'Smatter with it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a good three hundred +degrees Kelvin too hot."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know it's loaded +with uranexite."</p> + +<p>"That much? The whole +crust practically jewelry +ore?"</p> + +<p>"If that's what the figures +say, I'll buy it."</p> + +<p>"Buy <i>this</i>, then. Continuous +daylight everywhere. +Noon June Sol-quality light +<i>except</i> that it's all in the visible. +Frank says it's from bombardment +of a layer of something, +and Frank admits that +the whole thing's impossible."</p> + +<p>"When Frank makes up his +mind what 'something' is, I'll +take it as a datum."</p> + +<p>"Third thing: there's only +one city on this continent, +and it's protected by a screen +that nobody ever heard of."</p> + +<p>Hilton pondered, then +turned to the captain. "Will +you please run a search-pattern, +sir? Fine-toothing only +the hot spots?"</p> + +<p>The planet was approximately +the same size as +Terra; its atmosphere, except +for its intense radiation, was +similar to Terra's. There were +two continents; one immense +girdling ocean. The temperature +of the land surface was +everywhere about 100°F, that +of the water about 90°F. Each +continent had one city, and +both were small. One was inhabited +by what looked like +human beings; the other by +usuform robots. The human +city was the only cool spot on +the entire planet; under its +protective dome the temperature +was 71°F.</p> + +<p>Hilton decided to study the +robots first; and asked the +captain to take the ship down +to observation range. Sawtelle +objected; and continued +to object until Hilton started +to order his arrest. Then he +said, "I'll do it, under protest, +but I want it on record that I +am doing it against my best +judgment."</p> + +<p>"It's on record," Hilton +said, coldly. "Everything said +and done is being, and will +continue to be, recorded."</p> + +<p>The <i>Perseus</i> floated downward. +"<i>There's</i> what I want +most to see," Hilton said, +finally. "That big strip-mining +operation ... that's it ... hold +it!" Then, via throat-mike, +"Attention, all scientists! +You all know what to +do. Start doing it."</p> + +<p>Sandra's blonde head was +very close to Hilton's brown +one as they both stared into +Hilton's plate. "Why, they +look like giant armadillos!" +she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"More like tanks," he disagreed, +"except that they've +got legs, wheels <i>and</i> treads—and +arms, cutters, diggers, +probes and conveyors—and +<i>look</i> at the way those buckets +dip solid rock!"</p> + +<p>The fantastic machine was +moving very slowly along a +bench or shelf that it was +making for itself as it went +along. Below it, to its left, +dropped other benches being +made by other mining machines. +The machines were +not using explosives. Hard +though the ore was, the tools +were so much harder and +were driven with such tremendous +power that the stuff +might just have well have +been slightly-clayed sand.</p> + +<p>Every bit of loosened ore, +down to the finest dust, was +forced into a conveyor and +thence into the armored body +of the machine. There it went +into a mechanism whose basic +principles Hilton could not +understand. From this monstrosity +emerged two streams +of product.</p> + +<p>One of these, comprising +ninety-nine point nine plus +percent of the input, went out +through another conveyor +into the vast hold of a vehicle +which, when full and replaced +by a duplicate of itself, went +careening madly cross-country +to a dump.</p> + +<p>The other product, a slow, +very small stream of tiny, +glistening black pellets, fell +into a one-gallon container +being held watchfully by a +small machine, more or less +like a three-wheeled motor +scooter, which was moving +carefully along beside the +giant miner. When this can +was almost full another scooter +rolled up and, without losing +a single pellet, took over +place and function. The first +scooter then covered its bucket, +clamped it solidly into a +recess designed for the purpose +and dashed away toward +the city.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="361" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Hilton stared slack-jawed +at Sandra. She stared back.</p> + +<p>"Do you make anything of +that, Jarve?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. They're taking +<i>pure</i> uranexite and <i>concentrating</i>—or +converting—it a +thousand to one. I <i>hope</i> we'll +be able to do something about +it."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, too, Chief; and +I'm <i>sure</i> we will."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's enough for +now. You may take us up +now, Captain Sawtelle. And +Sandy, will you please call +all department heads and +their assistants into the conference +room?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AT the head of the long +conference table, Hilton +studied his fourteen department +heads, all husky young +men, and their assistants, all +surprisingly attractive and +well-built young women. Bud +Carroll and Sylvia Bannister +of Sociology sat together. He +was almost as big as Karns; +she was a green-eyed redhead +whose five-ten and one-fifty +would have looked big except +for the arrangement thereof. +There were Bernadine and +Hermione van der Moen, the +leggy, breasty, platinum-blonde +twins—both of whom +were Cowper medalists in +physics. There was Etienne +de Vaux, the mathematical +wizard; and Rebecca Eisenstein, +the black-haired, flashing-eyed +ex-infant-prodigy +theoretical astronomer. There +was Beverly Bell, who made +mathematically impossible +chemical syntheses—who +swam channels for days on +end and computed planetary +orbits in her sleekly-coiffured +head.</p> + +<p>"First, we'll have a get-together," +Hilton said. "Nothing +recorded; just to get acquainted. +You all know that our +fourteen departments cover +science, from astronomy to +zoology."</p> + +<p>He paused, again his eyes +swept the group. Stella Wing, +who would have been a grand-opera +star except for her +drive to know everything +about language. Theodora +(Teddy) Blake, who would +prove gleefully that she was +the world's best model—but +was in fact the most brilliantly +promising theoretician who +had ever lived.</p> + +<p>"No other force like this +has ever been assembled," +Hilton went on. "In more +ways than one. Sawtelle wanted +Jeffers to head this group, +instead of me. Everybody +thought he <i>would</i> head it."</p> + +<p>"And Hilton wanted Eggleston +and got <i>me</i>," Sandra +said.</p> + +<p>"That's right. And quite a +few of you didn't want to +come at all, but were told by +the Board to come or else."</p> + +<p>The group stirred. Eyes +met eyes, and there were +smiles.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I MYSELF think Jeffers +<i>should</i> have had the job. +I've never handled anything +half this big and I'll need a +lot of help. But I'm stuck +with it and you're all stuck +with me, so we'll all take it +and like it. You've noticed, +of course, the accent on +youth. The Navy crew is normal, +except for the commanders +being unusually young. +But we aren't. None of us is +thirty yet, and none of us has +ever been married. You fellows +look like a team of professional +athletes, and you +girls—well, if I didn't know +better I'd say the Board had +screened you for the front +row of the chorus instead of +for a top-bracket brain-gang. +How they found so many of +you I'll never know."</p> + +<p>"Virile men and nubile +women!" Etienne de Vaux +leered enthusiastically. "<i>Vive +le Board!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Nubile! Bravo, Tiny! +<i>Quelle delicatesse de +nuance!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Three rousing cheers for +the Board!"</p> + +<p>"Keep still, you nitwits! +Let me ask a question!" This +came from one of the twins. +"Before you give us the deduction, +Jarvis—or will it be +an intuition or an induction +or a ..."</p> + +<p>"Or an inducement," the +other twin suggested, helpfully. +"Not that <i>you</i> would +need very much of that."</p> + +<p>"You keep still, too, Miney. +I'm asking, Sir Moderator, if +I can give my deduction +first?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Bernadine; go +ahead."</p> + +<p>"They figured we're going +to get completely lost. Then +we'll jettison the Navy, hunt +up a planet of our own and +start a race to end all human +races. Or would you call this +a <i>see</i>-duction instead of a <i>dee</i>-duction?"</p> + +<p>This produced a storm of +whistles, cheers and jeers +that it took several seconds +to quell.</p> + +<p>"But seriously, Jarvis," +Bernadine went on. "We've +all been wondering and it +doesn't make sense. Have you +any idea at all of what the +Board actually did have in +mind?"</p> + +<p>"I believe that the Board +selected for mental, not physical, +qualities; for the ability +to handle anything unexpected +or unusual that comes up, +no matter what it is."</p> + +<p>"You think it wasn't double-barreled?" +asked Kincaid, +the psychologist. He smiled +quizzically. "That all this virility +and nubility and glamor +is pure coincidence?"</p> + +<p>"No," Hilton said, with an +almost imperceptible flick of +an eyelid. "Coincidence is as +meaningless as paradox. I +think they found out that—barring +freaks—the best +minds are in the best bodies."</p> + +<p>"Could be. The idea has +been propounded before."</p> + +<p>"Now let's get to work." +Hilton flipped the switch of +the recorder. "Starting with +you, Sandy, each of you give +a two-minute boil-down. What +you found and what you +think."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">SOMETHING over an hour +later the meeting adjourned +and Hilton and Sandra +strolled toward the control +room.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you +convinced Alexander Q. Kincaid +or not, but you didn't +quite convince me," Sandra +said.</p> + +<p>"Nor him, either."</p> + +<p>"Oh?" Sandra's eyebrows</p> + +<p>"No. He grabbed the out I +offered him. I didn't fool +Teddy Blake or Temple Bells, +either. You four are all, +though, I think."</p> + +<p>"Temple? You think <i>she's</i> +so smart?"</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>think</i> so, no. Don't +fool yourself, chick. Temple +Bells looks and acts sweet +and innocent and virginal. +Maybe—probably—she is. But +she isn't showing a fraction of +the stuff she's really got. +She's heavy artillery, Sandy. +And I mean <i>heavy</i>."</p> + +<p>"I think you're slightly +nuts there. But do you really +believe that the Board was +playing Cupid?"</p> + +<p>"Not trying, but doing. +Cold-bloodedly and efficiently. +Yes."</p> + +<p>"But it wouldn't <i>work</i>! We +aren't going to get lost!"</p> + +<p>"We won't need to. Propinquity +will do the work."</p> + +<p>"Phooie. You and me, for +instance?" She stopped, put +both hands on her hips, and +glared. "Why, I wouldn't +marry <i>you</i> if you ..."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell the cockeyed world +you won't!" Hilton broke in. +"Me marry a damned female +Ph.D.? Uh-uh. Mine will be +a cuddly little brunette that +thinks a slipstick is some kind +of lipstick and that an isotope's +something good to eat."</p> + +<p>"One like that copy of +Murchison's Dark Lady that +you keep under the glass on +your desk?" she sneered.</p> + +<p>"Exactly...." He started to +continue the battle, then shut +himself off. "But listen, Sandy, +why should we get into +a fight because we don't want +to marry each other? You're +doing a swell job. I admire +you tremendously for it and +I like to work with you."</p> + +<p>"You've got a point there, +Jarve, at that, and I'm one of +the few who know what kind +of a job <i>you're</i> doing, so I'll +relax." She flashed him a +gamin grin and they went on +into the control room.</p> + +<p>It was too late in the day +then to do any more exploring; +but the next morning, +early, the <i>Perseus</i> lined out +for the city of the humanoids.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Tula turned toward her fellows. +Her eyes filled with a +happily triumphant light and +her thought a lilting song. "I +have been telling you from +the first touch that it was the +Masters. It <i>is</i> the Masters! +The Masters are returning to +us Omans and their own home +world!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"CAPTAIN Sawtelle," Hilton +said, "Please land +in the cradle below."</p> + +<p>"<i>Land!</i>" Sawtelle stormed. +"On a planet like <i>that</i>? Not +by ..." He broke off and +stared; for now, on that cradle, +there flamed out in +screaming red the <i>Perseus'</i> +own Navy-coded landing symbols!</p> + +<p>"Your protest is recorded," +Hilton said. "Now, sir, land."</p> + +<p>Fuming, Sawtelle landed. +Sandra looked pointedly at +Hilton. "First contact is my +dish, you know."</p> + +<p>"Not that I like it, but it +is." He turned to a burly +youth with sun-bleached, +crew-cut hair, "Still safe, +Frank?"</p> + +<p>"Still abnormally low. Surprising +no end, since all the +rest of the planet is hotter +than the middle tail-race of +hell."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Sandy. Who will +you want besides the top linguists?"</p> + +<p>"Psych—both Alex and +Temple. And Teddy Blake. +They're over there. Tell them, +will you, while I buzz Teddy?"</p> + +<p>"Will do," and Hilton +stepped over to the two psychologists +and told them. +Then, "I hope I'm not leading +with my chin, Temple, but is +that your real first name or +a professional?"</p> + +<p>"It's real; it really is. My +parents were romantics: dad +says they considered both +'Golden' and 'Silver'!"</p> + +<p>Not at all obviously, he +studied her: the almost translucent, +unblemished perfection +of her lightly-tanned, +old-ivory skin; the clear, +calm, deep blueness of her +eyes; the long, thick mane of +hair exactly the color of a +field of dead-ripe wheat.</p> + +<p>"You know, I like it," he +said then. "It fits you."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you said that, +Doctor...."</p> + +<p>"Not that, Temple. I'm not +going to 'Doctor' you."</p> + +<p>"I'll call you 'boss', then, +like Stella does. Anyway, that +lets me tell you that I like +it myself. I really think that +it did something for me."</p> + +<p>"<i>Something</i> did something +for you, that's for sure. I'm +mighty glad you're aboard, +and I hope ... here they come. +Hi, Hark! Hi, Stella!"</p> + +<p>"Hi, Jarve," said Chief +Linguist Harkins, and:</p> + +<p>"Hi, boss—what's holding +us up?" asked his assistant, +Stella Wing. She was about +five feet four. Her eyes were +a tawny brown; her hair a +flamboyant auburn mop. Perhaps +it owed a little of its +spectacular refulgence to +chemistry, Hilton thought, +but not too much. "Let us +away! Let the lions roar and +let the welkin ring!"</p> + +<p>"Who's been feeding <i>you</i> +so much red meat, little +squirt?" Hilton laughed and +turned away, meeting Sandra +in the corridor. "Okay, chick, +take 'em away. We'll cover +you. Luck, girl."</p> + +<p>And in the control room, +to Sawtelle, "Needle-beam +cover, please; set for minimum +aperture and lethal +blast. But no firing, Captain +Sawtelle, until I give the order."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE <i>Perseus</i> was surrounded +by hundreds of natives. +They were all adult, all naked +and about equally divided +as to sex. They were friendly; +most enthusiastically so.</p> + +<p>"Jarve!" Sandra squealed. +"They're <i>telepathic</i>. Very +strongly so! I never imagined—I +never felt anything like +it!"</p> + +<p>"Any rough stuff?" Hilton +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Just the opposite. +They love us ... in a way that's +simply indescribable. I don't +like this telepathy business ... +not clear ... foggy, diffuse ... this +woman is <i>sure</i> I'm her +long-lost great-great-a-hundred-times +grandmother or +something—<i>You!</i> Slow down. +Take it <i>easy</i>! They want us +all to come out here and live +with ... no, not <i>with</i> them, but +each of us alone in a whole +house with them to wait on +us! But first, they all want +to come aboard...."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>" Hilton yelped. +"But are you <i>sure</i> they're +friendly?"</p> + +<p>"Positive, chief."</p> + +<p>"How about you, Alex?"</p> + +<p>"We're all sure, Jarve. No +question about it."</p> + +<p>"Bring two of them aboard. +A man and a woman."</p> + +<p>"You won't bring <i>any</i>!" +Sawtelle thundered. "Hilton, +I had enough of your stupid, +starry-eyed, ivory-domed +blundering long ago, but this +utterly idiotic brainstorm of +letting enemy aliens aboard +us ends all civilian command. +Call your people back aboard +or I will bring them in by +force!"</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir. Sandy, tell +the natives that a slight delay +has become necessary and +bring your party aboard."</p> + +<p>The Navy officers smiled—or +grinned—gloatingly; while +the scientists stared at their +director with expressions +ranging from surprise to disappointment +and disgust. +Hilton's face remained set, expressionless, +until Sandra and +her party had arrived.</p> + +<p>"Captain Sawtelle," he said +then, "I thought that you and +I had settled in private the +question or who is in command +of Project Theta Orionis +at destination. We will +now settle it in public. Your +opinion of me is now on record, +witnessed by your officers +and by my staff. My +opinion of you, which is now +being similarly recorded and +witnessed, is that you are a +hidebound, mentally ossified +Navy mule; mentally and psychologically +unfit to have any +voice in any such mission as +this. You will now agree on +this recording and before +these witnesses, to obey my +orders unquestioningly or I +will now unload all Bureau of +Science personnel and equipment +onto this planet and +send you and the <i>Perseus</i> +back to Terra with the doubly-sealed +record of this episode +posted to the Advisory +Board. Take your choice."</p> + +<p>Eyes locked, and under +Hilton's uncompromising +stare Sawtelle weakened. He +fidgeted; tried three times—unsuccessfully—to +blare defiance. +Then, "Very well sir," +he said, and saluted.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"THANK you, sir," Hilton +said, then turned to his +staff. "Okay, Sandy, go +ahead."</p> + +<p>Outside the control room +door, "Thank God you don't +play poker, Jarve!" Karns +gasped. "We'd all owe you all +the pay we'll ever get!"</p> + +<p>"You think it was the bluff, +yes?" de Vaux asked. "Me, I +think no. Name of a name of +a name! I was wondering with +unease what life would be like +on this so-alien planet!"</p> + +<p>"You didn't need to wonder, +Tiny," Hilton assured +him. "It was in the bag. He's +incapable of abandonment."</p> + +<p>Beverly Bell, the van der +Moen twins and Temple Bells +all stared at Hilton in awe; +and Sandra felt much the +same way.</p> + +<p>"But suppose he <i>had</i> called +you?" Sandra demanded.</p> + +<p>"Speculating on the impossible +is unprofitable," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're the most <i>exasperating</i> +thing!" Sandra +stamped a foot. "Don't you—<i>ever</i>—answer +a question intelligibly?"</p> + +<p>"When the question is +meaningless, chick, I can't."</p> + +<p>At the lock Temple Bells, +who had been hanging back, +cocked an eyebrow at Hilton +and he made his way to her +side.</p> + +<p>"What was it you started to +say back there, boss?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. That we should +see each other oftener."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was hoping +you were going to say." She +put her hand under his elbow +and pressed his arm lightly, +fleetingly, against her side. +"That would be indubitably +the fondest thing I could be +of."</p> + +<p>He laughed and gave her +arm a friendly squeeze. Then +he studied her again, the most +baffling member of his staff. +About five feet six. Lithe, +hard, trained down fine—as a +tennis champion, she would +be. Stacked—<i>how</i> she was +stacked! Not as beautiful as +Sandra or Teddy ... but with +an ungodly lot of something +that neither of them had ... nor +any other woman he had +ever known.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am a little difficult +to classify," she said quietly, +almost reading his mind.</p> + +<p>"That's the understatement +of the year! But I'm making +some progress."</p> + +<p>"Such as?" This was an +open challenge.</p> + +<p>"Except possibly Teddy, +the best brain aboard."</p> + +<p>"That isn't true, but go +ahead."</p> + +<p>"You're a powerhouse. A +tightly organized, thoroughly +integrated, smoothly functioning, +beautifully camouflaged +Juggernaut. A reasonable +facsimile of an irresistible +force."</p> + +<p>"My God, Jarvis!" That +had gone deep.</p> + +<p>"Let me finish my analysis. +You aren't head of your department +because you don't +want to be. You fooled the +top psychs of the Board. +You've been running ninety +per cent submerged because +you can work better that way +and there's no glory-hound +blood in you."</p> + +<p>She stared at him, licking +her lips. "I knew your mind +was a razor, but I didn't know +it was a diamond drill, too. +That seals your doom, boss, +unless ... no, you can't <i>possibly</i> +know why I'm here."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I do."</p> + +<p>"You just think you do. +You see, I've been in love +with you ever since, as a gangling, +bony, knobby-kneed +kid, I listened to your first +doctorate disputation. Ever +since then, my purpose in life +has been to land you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> + + +<p class="cap">"BUT listen!" he exclaimed. +"I <i>can't</i>, even +if I want...."</p> + +<p>"Of course you can't." Pure +deviltry danced in her eyes. +"You're the Director. It +wouldn't be proper. But it's +Standard Operating Procedure +for simple, innocent, unsophisticated +little country +girls like me to go completely +overboard for the boss."</p> + +<p>"But you can't—you +<i>mustn't</i>!" he protested in +panic.</p> + +<p>Temple Bells was getting +plenty of revenge for the +shocks he had given her. "I +can't? Watch me!" She +grinned up at him, her eyes +still dancing. "Every chance +I get, I'm going to hug your +arm like I did a minute ago. +And you'll take hold of my +forearm, like you did! That +can be taken, you see, as either: +One, a reluctant acceptance +of a mildly distasteful +but not quite actionable +situation, or: Two, a blocking +move to keep me from climbing +up you like a squirrel!"</p> + +<p>"Confound it, Temple, you +<i>can't</i> be serious!"</p> + +<p>"Can't I?" She laughed +gleefully. "Especially with +half a dozen of those other +cats watching? Just wait and +see, boss!"</p> + +<p>Sandra and her two guests +came aboard. The natives +looked around; the man at +the various human men, the +woman at each of the human +women. The woman remained +beside Sandra; the man took +his place at Hilton's left, +looking up—he was a couple +of inches shorter than Hilton's +six feet one—with an +air of ... of <i>expectancy</i>!</p> + +<p>"Why this arrangement, +Sandy?" Hilton asked.</p> + +<p>"Because we're tops. It's +your move, Jarve. What's +first?"</p> + +<p>"Uranexite. Come along, +Sport. I'll call you that until ..."</p> + +<p>"Laro," the native said, in +a deep resonant bass voice. +He hit himself a blow on the +head that would have floored +any two ordinary men. +"Sora," he announced, striking +the alien woman a similar +blow.</p> + +<p>"Laro and Sora, I would +like to have you look at our +uranexite, with the idea of refueling +our ship. Come with +me, please?"</p> + +<p>Both nodded and followed +him. In the engine room he +pointed at the engines, then +to the lead-blocked labyrinth +leading to the fuel holds. +"Laro, do you understand +'hot'? Radioactive?"</p> + +<p>Laro nodded—and started +to open the heavy lead door!</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Hilton yelped. +"That's hot!" He seized +Laro's arm to pull him away—and +got the shock of his +life. Laro weighed at least +five hundred pounds! And +the guy <i>still</i> looked human!</p> + +<p>Laro nodded again and +gave himself a terrific thump +on the chest. Then he glanced +at Sora, who stepped away +from Sandra. He then went +into the hold and came out +with two fuel pellets in his +hand, one of which he tossed +to Sora. That is, the motion +looked like a toss, but the +pellet traveled like a bullet. +Sora caught it unconcernedly +and both natives flipped the +pellets into their mouths. +There was a half minute of +rock-crusher crunching; then +both natives opened their +mouths.</p> + +<p>The pellets had been pulverized +and swallowed.</p> + +<p>Hilton's voice rang out. +"Poynter! How <i>can</i> these +people be non-radioactive after +eating a whole fuel pellet +apiece?"</p> + +<p>Poynter tested both natives +again. "Cold," he reported. +"Stone cold. No background +even. Play <i>that</i> on your harmonica!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">LARO nodded, perfectly +matter-of-factly, and in +Hilton's mind there formed a +picture. It was not clear, but +it showed plainly enough a +long line of aliens approaching +the <i>Perseus</i>. Each carried +on his or her shoulder a lead +container holding two hundred +pounds of Navy Regulation +fuel pellets. A standard +loading-tube was sealed into +place and every fuel-hold was +filled.</p> + +<p>This picture, Laro indicated +plainly, could become reality +any time.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle was notified and +came on the run. "No fuel is +coming aboard without being +tested!" he roared.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But it'll +pass, for all the tea in China. +You haven't had a ten per +cent load of fuel since you +were launched. You can fill +up or not—the fuel's here—just +as you say."</p> + +<p>"If they can make Navy +standard, of course we want +it."</p> + +<p>The fuel arrived. Every +load tested well above standard. +Every fuel hold was +filled to capacity, with no +leakage and no emanation. +The natives who had handled +the stuff did not go away, but +gathered in the engine-room; +and more and more humans +trickled in to see what was +going on.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle stiffened. "What's +going on over there, Hilton?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but let's let +'em go for a minute. I want +to learn about these people +and they've got me stopped +cold."</p> + +<p>"You aren't the only one. +But if they wreck that Mayfield +it'll cost you over twenty +thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"Okay." The captain and director +watched, wide eyed.</p> + +<p>Two master mechanics had +been getting ready to re-fit a +tube—a job requiring both +strength and skill. The tube +was very heavy and made of +superefract. The machine—the +Mayfield—upon which +the work was to be done, was +extremely complex.</p> + +<p>Two of the aliens had +brushed the mechanics—very +gently—aside and were doing +their work for them. Ignoring +the hoist, one native had +picked the tube up and was +holding it exactly in place on +the Mayfield. The other, +hands moving faster than the +eye could follow, was locking +it—micrometrically precise +and immovably secure—into +place.</p> + +<p>"How about this?" one of +the mechanics asked of his +immediate superior. "If we +throw 'em out, how do we do +it?"</p> + +<p>By a jerk of the head, the +non-com passed the buck to a +commissioned officer, who +relayed it up the line to Sawtelle, +who said, "Hilton, <i>no</i>body +can run a Mayfield +without months of training. +They'll wreck it and it'll cost +you ... but I'm getting curious +myself. Enough so to take +half the damage. Let 'em go +ahead."</p> + +<p>"How <i>about</i> this, Mike?" +one of the machinists asked +of his fellow. "I'm going to +<i>like</i> this, what?"</p> + +<p>"Ya-as, my deah Chumley," +the other drawled, affectedly. +"My man relieves me of <i>so</i> +much uncouth effort."</p> + +<p>The natives had kept on +working. The Mayfield was +running. It had always +howled and screamed at its +work, but now it gave out +only a smooth and even hum. +The aliens had adjusted it +with unhuman precision; +they were one with it as no +human being could possibly +be. And every mind present +knew that those aliens were, +at long, long last, fulfilling +their destiny and were, in +that fulfillment, supremely +happy. After tens of thousands +of cycles of time they +were doing a job for their +adored, their revered and +beloved MASTERS.</p> + +<p>That was a stunning shock; +but it was eclipsed by another.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I AM sorry, Master Hilton," +Laro's tremendous +bass voice boomed out, "that +it has taken us so long to +learn your Masters' language +as it now is. Since you left +us you have changed it radically; +while we, of course, +have not changed it at all."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, but you're mistaken," +Hilton said. "We are +merely visitors. We have never +been here before; nor, as +far as we know, were any of +our ancestors ever here."</p> + +<p>"You need not test us, Master. +We have kept your trust. +Everything has been kept, +changelessly the same, awaiting +your return as you ordered +so long ago."</p> + +<p>"Can you read my mind?" +Hilton demanded.</p> + +<p>"Of course; but Omans can +not read in Masters' minds +anything except what Masters +want Omans to read."</p> + +<p>"Omans?" Harkins asked. +"Where did you Omans and +your masters come from? +Originally?"</p> + +<p>"As you know, Master, the +Masters came originally from +Arth. They populated Ardu, +where we Omans were developed. +When the Stretts drove +us from Ardu, we all came to +Ardry, which was your home +world until you left it in our +care. We keep also this, your +half of the Fuel World, in +trust for you."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Jarve!" Harkins +said, tensely. "Oman-human. +Arth-Earth. Ardu-Earth Two. +Ardry-Earth Three. You +can't laugh them off ... but +there never <i>was</i> an Atlantis!"</p> + +<p>"This is getting no better +fast. We need a full staff +meeting. You, too, Sawtelle, +and your best man. We need +all the brains the <i>Perseus</i> can +muster."</p> + +<p>"You're right. But first, get +those naked women out of +here. It's bad enough, having +women aboard at all, but +this ... my men are <i>spacemen</i>, +mister."</p> + +<p>Laro spoke up. "If it is the +Masters' pleasure to keep on +testing us, so be it. We have +forgotten nothing. A dwelling +awaits each Master, in +which each will be served by +Omans who will know the +Master's desires without being +told. Every desire. While +we Omans have no biological +urges, we are of course highly +skilled in relieving tensions +and derive as much +pleasure from that service as +from any other."</p> + +<p>Sawtelle broke the silence +that followed. "Well, for the +men—" He hesitated. "Especially +on the ground ... well, +talking in mixed company, +you know, but I think ..."</p> + +<p>"Think nothing of the +mixed company, Captain Sawtelle," +Sandra said. "We women +are scientists, not shrinking +violets. We are accustomed +to discussing the facts +of life just as frankly as any +other facts."</p> + +<p>Sawtelle jerked a thumb at +Hilton, who followed him out +into the corridor. "I <i>have</i> +been a Navy mule," he said. +"I admit now that I'm out-maneuvered, +out-manned, and +out-gunned."</p> + +<p>"I'm just as baffled—at +present—as you are, sir. But +my training has been aimed +specifically at the unexpected, +while yours has not."</p> + +<p>"That's letting me down +easy, Jarve." Sawtelle smiled—the +first time the startled +Hilton had known that the +hard, tough old spacehound +<i>could</i> smile. "What I wanted +to say is, lead on. I'll follow +you through force-field and +space-warps."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, skipper. And by +the way, I erased that record +yesterday." The two gripped +hands; and there came into +being a relationship that was +to become a lifelong friendship.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"WE will start for Ardry +immediately," Hilton +said. "How do we make that +jump without charts, Laro?"</p> + +<p>"Very easily, Master. Kedo, +as Master Captain Sawtelle's +Oman, will give the orders. +Nito will serve Master Snowden +and supply the knowledge +he says he has forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Okay. We'll go up to the +control room and get started."</p> + +<p>And in the control room, +Kedo's voice rasped into the +captain's microphone. "Attention, +all personnel! Master +Captain Sawtelle orders take-off +in two minutes. The +countdown will begin at five +seconds.... Five! Four! Three! +Two! One! Lift!"</p> + +<p>Nito, not Snowden, handled +the controls. As perfectly as +the human pilot had ever done +it, at the top of his finest +form, he picked the immense +spaceship up and slipped it +silkily into subspace.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be a ..." Snowden +gasped. "That's a better +job than I <i>ever</i> did!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Master, as you +know," Nito said. "It was you +who did this. I merely performed +the labor."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, in the +main lounge, Navy and BuSci +personnel were mingling as +they had never done before. +Whatever had caused this relaxation +of tension—the +friendship of captain and director? +The position in which +they all were? Or what?—they +all began to get acquainted +with each other.</p> + +<p>"Silence, please, and be +seated," Hilton said. "While +this is not exactly a formal +meeting, it will be recorded +for future reference. First, I +will ask Laro a question. +Were books or records left +on Ardry by the race you call +the Masters?"</p> + +<p>"You know there are, Master. +They are exactly as you +left them. Undisturbed for +over two hundred seventy-one +thousand years."</p> + +<p>"Therefore we will not +question the Omans. We do +not know what questions to +ask. We have seen many +things hitherto thought impossible. +Hence, we must discard +all preconceived opinions +which conflict with facts. I +will mention a few of the +problems we face."</p> + +<p>"The Omans. The Masters. +The upgrading of the armament +of the <i>Perseus</i> to Oman +standards. The concentration +of uranexite. What is that +concentrate? How is it used? +Total conversion—how is it +accomplished? The skeletons—what +are they and how are +they controlled? Their ability +to drain power. Who or what +is back of them? Why a deadlock +that has lasted over a +quarter of a million years? +How much danger are we and +the <i>Perseus</i> actually in? How +much danger is Terra in, because +of our presence here? +There are many other questions."</p> + +<p>"Sandra and I will not take +part. Nor will three others; +de Vaux, Eisenstein, and +Blake. You have more important +work to do."</p> + +<p>"What can that be?" asked +Rebecca. "Of what possible +use can a mathematician, a +theoretician and a theoretical +astronomer be in such a situation +as this?"</p> + +<p>"You can think powerfully +in abstract terms, unhampered +by Terran facts and laws +which we now know are neither +facts nor laws. I cannot +even categorize the problems +we face. Perhaps you three +will be able to. You will listen, +then consult, then tell me +how to pick the teams to do +the work. A more important +job for you is this: Any problem, +to be solved, must be +stated clearly; and we don't +know even what our basic +problem is. I want something +by the use of which I can +break this thing open. Get it +for me."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">REBECCA and de Vaux +merely smiled and nodded, +but Teddy Blake said +happily, "I was beginning to +feel like a fifth wheel on this +project, but <i>that's</i> something +I can really stick my teeth +into."</p> + +<p>"Huh? How?" Karns demanded. +"He didn't give you +one single thing to go on; +just compounded the confusion."</p> + +<p>Hilton spoke before Teddy +could. "That's their dish, +Bill. If I had any data I'd +work it myself. You first, +Captain Sawtelle."</p> + +<p>That conference was a very +long one indeed. There were +almost as many conclusions +and recommendations as there +were speakers. And through +it all Hilton and Sandra listened. +They weighed and tested +and analyzed and made +copious notes; in shorthand +and in the more esoteric +characters of symbolic logic. +And at its end:</p> + +<p>"I'm just about pooped, +Sandy. How about you?"</p> + +<p>"You and me both, boss. See +you in the morning."</p> + +<p>But she didn't. It was four +o'clock in the afternoon when +they met again.</p> + +<p>"We made up one of the +teams, Sandy," he said, with +surprising diffidence. "I +know we were going to do it +together, but I got a hunch +on the first team. A kind of +a weirdie, but the brains +checked me on it." He placed +a card on her desk. "Don't +blow your top until after I +you've studied it."</p> + +<p>"Why, I won't, of +course...." Her voice died +away. "Maybe you'd better +cancel that 'of course'...." +She studied, and when she +spoke again she was exerting +self-control. "A chemist, a +planetographer, a theoretician, +<i>two</i> sociologists, a psychologist +and a radiationist. +And six of the seven are three +pairs of sweeties. What kind +of a line-up is <i>that</i> to solve +a problem in <i>physics</i>?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't in any physics we +know. I said <i>think</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, then again +"Oh," and "Oh," and "Oh." +Four entirely different tones. +"I see ... maybe. You're matching +minds, not specialties; +and supplementing?"</p> + +<p>"I knew you were smart. +Buy it?"</p> + +<p>"It's weird, all right, but +I'll buy it—for a trial run, +anyway. But I'd hate like sin +to have to sell any part of it +to the Board.... But of course +we're—I mean you're responsible +only to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Keep it 'we', Sandy. You're +as important to this project +as I am. But before we tackle +the second team, what's your +thought on Bernadine and +Hermione? Separate or together?"</p> + +<p>"Separate, I'd say. They're +identical physically, and so +nearly so mentally that +of them would be just as good +on a team as both of them. +More and better work on different +teams."</p> + +<p>"My thought exactly." And +so it went, hour after hour.</p> + +<p>The teams were selected +and meetings were held.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE <i>Perseus</i> reached Ardry, +which was very much +like Terra. There were continents, +oceans, ice-caps, +lakes, rivers, mountains and +plains, forests and prairies. +The ship landed on the spacefield +of Omlu, the City of the +Masters, and Sawtelle called +Hilton into his cabin. The +Omans Laro and Kedo went +along, of course.</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows how it +leaked ..." Sawtelle began.</p> + +<p>"No secrets around here," +Hilton grinned. "Omans, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. Anyway, every +man aboard is all hyped +up about living aground—especially +with a harem. But before +I grant liberty, suppose +there's any VD around here +that our prophylactics can't +handle?"</p> + +<p>"As you know, Masters," +Laro replied for Hilton before +the latter could open his +mouth, "no disease, venereal +or other, is allowed to exist +on Ardry. No prophylaxis is +either necessary or desirable."</p> + +<p>"That ought to hold you +for a while, Skipper." Hilton +smiled at the flabbergasted +captain and went back to the +lounge.</p> + +<p>"Everybody going ashore?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Karns said. "Unanimous +vote for the first time."</p> + +<p>"Who wouldn't?" Sandra +asked. "I'm fed up with living +like a sardine. I will scream +for joy the minute I get into +a real room."</p> + +<p>"Cars" were waiting, in a +stopping-and-starting line. +Three-wheel jobs. All were +empty. No drivers, no steering-wheels, +no instruments or +push-buttons. When the +whole line moved ahead as +one vehicle there was no +noise, no gas, no blast.</p> + +<p>An Oman helped a Master +carefully into the rear seat +of his car, leaped into the +front seat and the car sped +quietly away. The whole line +of empty cars, acting in perfect +synchronization, shot +forward one space and +stopped.</p> + +<p>"This is your car, Master," +Laro said, and made a production +out of getting Hilton +into the vehicle undamaged.</p> + +<p>Hilton's plan had been +beautifully simple. All the +teams were to meet at the +Hall of Records. The linguists +and their Omans would +study the records and pass +them out. Specialty after +specialty would be unveiled +and teams would work on +them. He and Sandy would +sit in the office and analyze +and synthesize and correlate. +It was a very nice plan.</p> + +<p>It was a very nice office, +too. It contained every item +of equipment that either Sandra +or Hilton had ever +worked with—it was a big office—and +a great many that +neither of them had ever +heard of. It had a full staff of +Omans, all eager to work.</p> + +<p>Hilton and Sandra sat in +that magnificent office for +three hours, and no reports +came in. Nothing happened at +all.</p> + +<p>"This gives me the howling +howpers!" Hilton growled. +"Why haven't I got brains +enough to be on one of those +teams?"</p> + +<p>"I could shed a tear for +you, you big dope, but I +won't," Sandra retorted. +"What do you want to be, besides +the brain and the kingpin +and the balance-wheel +and the spark-plug of the outfit? +Do you want to do +<i>everything</i> yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I <i>don't</i> want to go +completely nuts, and that's +all I'm doing at the moment!" +The argument might have become +acrimonious, but it was +interrupted by a call from +Karns.</p> + +<p>"Can you come out here, +Jarve? We've struck a knot."</p> + +<p>"'Smatter? Trouble with +the Omans?" Hilton snapped.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. Just non-cooperation—squared. +We can't even get started. I'd like to +have you two come out here +and see if you can do anything. +I'm not trying rough +stuff, because I know it +wouldn't work."</p> + +<p>"Coming up, Bill," and +Hilton and Sandra, followed +by Laro and Sora, dashed out +to their cars.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE Hall of Records was +a long, wide, low, windowless, +very massive structure, +built of a metal that looked +like stainless steel. Kept +highly polished, the vast expanse +of seamless and jointless +metal was mirror-bright. +The one great door was open, +and just inside it were the +scientists and their Omans.</p> + +<p>"Brief me, Bill," Hilton +said.</p> + +<p>"No lights. They won't turn +'em on and we can't. Can't +find either lights or any possible +kind of switches."</p> + +<p>"Turn on the lights, Laro," +Hilton said.</p> + +<p>"You know that I cannot +do that, Master. It is forbidden +for any Oman to have +anything to do with the illumination +of this solemn and +revered place."</p> + +<p>"Then show me how to do +it."</p> + +<p>"That would be just as bad, +Master," the Oman said +proudly. "I will not fail any +test you can devise!"</p> + +<p>"Okay. All you Omans go +back to the ship and bring +over fifteen or twenty lights—the +tripod jobs. Scat!"</p> + +<p>They "scatted" and Hilton +went on, "No use asking +questions if you don't know +what questions to ask. Let's +see if we can cook up something. +Lane—Kathy—what +has Biology got to say?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Lane Saunders and Dr. +Kathryn Cook—the latter a +willowy brown-eyed blonde—conferred +briefly. Then Saunders +spoke, running both +hands through his unruly +shock of fiery red hair. "So +far, the best we can do is a +more-or-less educated guess. +They're atomic-powered, total-conversion +androids. +Their pseudo-flesh is composed +mainly of silicon and +fluorine. We don't know the +formula yet, but it is as much +more stable than our teflon +as teflon is than corn-meal +mush. As to the brains, no +data. Bones are super-stainless +steel. Teeth, harder than +diamond, but won't break. +Food, uranexite or its concentrated +derivative, interchangeably. +Storage reserve, +indefinite. Laro and Sora +won't <i>have</i> to eat again for +at least twenty-five years...."</p> + +<p>The group gasped as one, +but Saunders went on: "They +can eat and drink and breathe +and so on, but only because +the original Masters wanted +them to. Non-functional. +Skins and subcutaneous layers +are soft, for the same reason. +That's about it, up to +now."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Lane. Hark, is it +reasonable to believe that any +culture whatever could run +for a quarter of a million +years without changing one +word of its language or one +iota of its behavior?"</p> + +<p>"Reasonable or not, it seems +to have happened."</p> + +<p>"Now for Psychology. +Alex?"</p> + +<p>"It seems starkly incredible, +but it seems to be true. +If it is, their minds were subjected +to a conditioning no +Terran has ever imagined—an +unyielding fixation."</p> + +<p>"They can't be swayed, +then, by reason or logic?" +Hilton paused invitingly.</p> + +<p>"Or anything else," Kincaid +said, flatly. "If we're +right they can't be swayed, +period."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid of that. Well, +that's all the questions I +know how to ask. Any contributions +to this symposium?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AFTER a short silence de +Vaux said, "I suppose +you realize that the first half +of the problem you posed us +has now solved itself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no. No, you're 'way +ahead of me."</p> + +<p>"There is a basic problem +and it can now be clearly +stated," Rebecca said. "Problem: +To determine a method +of securing full cooperation +from the Omans. The first +step in the solution of this +problem is to find the most +appropriate operator. Teddy?"</p> + +<p>"I have an operator—of +sorts," Theodora said. "I've +been hoping one of us could +find a better."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Hilton demanded.</p> + +<p>"The word 'until'."</p> + +<p>"Teddy, you're a <i>sweetheart</i>!" +Hilton exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"How can 'until' be a mathematical +operator?" Sandra +asked.</p> + +<p>"Easily." Hilton was already +deep in thought. "This +hard conditioning was to last +only <i>until</i> the Masters returned. +Then they'd break it. +So all we have to do is figure +out how a Master would do +it."</p> + +<p>"That's <i>all</i>," Kincaid said, +meaningly.</p> + +<p>Hilton pondered. Then, +"Listen, all of you. I may +have to try a colossal job of +bluffing...."</p> + +<p>"Just what would you call +'colossal' after what you did +to the Navy?" Karns asked.</p> + +<p>"That was a sure thing. +This isn't. You see, to find out +whether Laro is really an immovable +object, I've got to +make like an irresistible +force, which I ain't. I don't +know what I'm going to do; +I'll have to roll it as I go +along. So all of you keep on +your toes and back any play +I make. Here they come."</p> + +<p>The Omans came in and +Hilton faced Laro, eyes to +eyes. "Laro," he said, "you refused +to obey my direct order. +Your reasoning seems to +be that, whether the Masters +wish it or not, you Omans +will block any changes whatever +in the <i>status quo</i> +throughout all time to come. +In other words, you deny the +fact that Masters are in fact +your Masters."</p> + +<p>"But that is not exactly it, +Master. The Masters ..."</p> + +<p>"That is it. <i>Exactly</i> it. +Either you are the Master +here or you are not. That is +a point to which your two-value +logic can be strictly applied. +You are wilfully neglecting +the word 'until'. This +stasis was to exist only <i>until</i> +the Masters returned. Are we +Masters? Have we returned? +Note well: Upon that one +word 'until' may depend the +length of time your Oman +race will continue to exist."</p> + +<p>The Omans flinched; the +humans gasped.</p> + +<p>"But more of that later," +Hilton went on, unmoved. +"Your ancient Masters, being +short-lived like us, changed +materially with time, did they +not? And you changed with +them?"</p> + +<p>"But we did not change +ourselves, Master. The Masters ..."</p> + +<p>"You did change yourselves. +The Masters changed +only the prototype brain. +They ordered you to change +yourselves and you obeyed +their orders. We order you to +change and you refuse to +obey our orders. We have +changed greatly from our ancestors. +Right?"</p> + +<p>"That is right, Master."</p> + +<p>"We are stronger physically, +more alert and more vigorous +mentally, with a keener, +sharper outlook on life?"</p> + +<p>"You are, Master."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"THAT is because our ancestors +decided to do +without Omans. We do our +own work and enjoy it. Your +Masters died of futility and +boredom. What I would like +to do, Laro, is take you to the +creche and put your disobedient +brain back into the +matrix. However, the decision +is not mine alone to make. +How about it, fellows and +girls? Would you rather have +alleged servants who won't do +anything you tell them to or +no servants at all?"</p> + +<p>"As semantician, I protest!" +Sandra backed his play. +"That is the most viciously +loaded question I ever heard—it +can't be answered except +in the wrong way!"</p> + +<p>"Okay, I'll make it semantically +sound. I think we'd +better scrap this whole Oman +race and start over and <i>I +want a vote that way</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You won't get it!" and +everybody began to yell.</p> + +<p>Hilton restored order and +swung on Laro, his attitude +stiff, hostile and reserved. +"Since it is clear that no +unanimous decision is to be +expected at this time I will +take no action at this time. +Think over, very carefully, +what I have said, for as far +as I am concerned, this world +has no place for Omans who +will not obey orders. As soon +as I convince my staff of the +fact, I shall act as follows: I +shall give you an order and if +you do not obey it blast your +head to a cinder. I shall then +give the same order to another +Oman and blast him. +This process will continue +<i>until</i>: First, I find an obedient +Oman. Second, I run out +of blasters. Third, the planet +runs out of Omans. Now take +these lights into the first +room of records—that one +over there." He pointed, and +no Oman, and only four humans, +realized that he had +made the Omans telegraph +their destination so that he +could point it out to them!</p> + +<p>Inside the room Hilton +asked caustically of Laro: +"The Masters didn't lift those +heavy chests down themselves, +did they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Master, we did +that."</p> + +<p>"Do it, then. Number One +first ... yes, that one ... open +it and start playing the records +in order."</p> + +<p>The records were not tapes +or flats or reels, but were +spools of intricately-braided +wire. The players were projectors +of full-color, hi-fi +sound, tri-di pictures.</p> + +<p>Hilton canceled all moves +aground and issued orders +that no Oman was to be allowed +aboard ship, then +looked and listened with his +staff.</p> + +<p>The first chest contained +only introductory and elementary +stuff; but it was so +interesting that the humans +stayed overtime to finish it. +Then they went back to the +ship; and in the main lounge +Hilton practically collapsed +onto a davenport. He took out +a cigarette and stared in surprise +at his hand, which was +shaking.</p> + +<p>"I <i>think</i> I could use a +drink," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"What, before supper?" +Karns marveled. Then, "Hey, +Wally! Rush a flagon of +avignognac—Arnaud Freres—for +the boss and everything +else for the rest of us. Chop-chop +but quick!"</p> + +<p>A hectic half-hour followed. +Then, "Okay, boys and +girls, I love you, too, but let's +cut out the slurp and sloosh, +get some supper and log us +some sack time. I'm just about +pooped. Sorry I had to queer +the private-residence deal, +Sandy, you poor little sardine. +But you know how it +is."</p> + +<p>Sandra grimaced. "Uh-huh. +I can take it a while longer +if you can."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AFTER breakfast next +morning, the staff met in +the lounge. As usual, Hilton +and Sandra were the first to +arrive.</p> + +<p>"Hi, boss," she greeted him. +"How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"Fine. I could whip a wildcat +and give her the first two +scratches. I <i>was</i> a bit beat up +last night, though."</p> + +<p>"I'll say ... but what I simply +can't get over is the way +you underplayed the climax. +'Third, the planet runs out of +Omans'. Just like that—no +emphasis at all. Wow! It had +the impact of a delayed-action +atomic bomb. It put +goose-bumps all over me. But +just s'pose they'd missed it?"</p> + +<p>"No fear. They're smart. I +had to play it as though the +whole Oman race is no more +important than a cigarette +butt. The great big question, +though, is whether I put it +across or not."</p> + +<p>At that point a dozen people +came in, all talking about +the same subject.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Jarve," Karns said. "I +<i>still</i> say you ought to take up +poker as a life work. Tiny, +let's you and him sit down +now and play a few hands."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mais non!</i>" de Vaux shook +his head violently, shrugged +his shoulders and threw both +arms wide. "By the sacred +name of a small blue cabbage, +not me!"</p> + +<p>Karns laughed. "How did +you have the guts to state so +many things as facts? If you'd +guessed wrong just once—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't." Hilton grinned. +"Think back, Bill. The only +thing I said as a fact was that +we as a race are better than +the Masters were, and that is +obvious. Everything else was +implication, logic, and bluff."</p> + +<p>"That's right, at that. And +they <i>were</i> neurotic and decadent. +No question about +that."</p> + +<p>"But listen, boss." This was +Stella Wing. "About this +mind-reading business. If +Laro could read your mind, +he'd know you were bluffing +and ... Oh, that 'Omans can +read only what Masters wish +Omans to read', eh? But d'you +think that applies to us?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it does, and I was +thinking some pretty savage +thoughts. And I want to caution +all of you: whenever +you're near any Oman, start +thinking that you're beginning +to agree with me that +they're useless to us, and let +them know it. Now get out +on the job, all of you. Scat!"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," Poynter +said. "We're going to have to +keep on using the Omans and +their cars, aren't we?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Just be superior +and distant. They're on +probation—we haven't decided +yet what to do about them. +Since that happens to be +true, it'll be easy."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HILTON and Sandra went +to their tiny office. There +wasn't room to pace the floor, +but Hilton tried to pace it +anyway.</p> + +<p>"Now don't say again that +you want to <i>do</i> something," +Sandra said, brightly. "Look +what happened when you said +that yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I've got a job, but I don't +know enough to do it. The +creche—there's probably only +one on the planet. So I want +you to help me think. The +Masters were very sensitive +to radiation. Right?"</p> + +<p>"Right. That city on Fuel +Bin was kept deconned to +zero, just in case some Master +wanted to visit it."</p> + +<p>"And the Masters had to +work in the creche whenever +anything really new had to +be put into the prototype +brain."</p> + +<p>"I'd say so, yes."</p> + +<p>"So they had armor. Probably +as much better than our +radiation suits as the rest of +their stuff is. Now. Did they +or did they not have thought +screens?"</p> + +<p>"Ouch! You think of the +<i>damnedest</i> things, chief." She +caught her lower lip between +her teeth and concentrated. +"... I don't know. There are +at least fifty vectors, all +pointing in different directions."</p> + +<p>"I know it. The key one in +my opinion is that the Masters +gave 'em <i>both</i> telepathy +and speech."</p> + +<p>"I considered that and +weighted it. Even so, the +probability is only about +point sixty-five. Can you take +that much of a chance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can make one or +two mistakes. Next, about +finding that creche. Any spot +of radiation on the planet +would be it, but the search +might take ..."</p> + +<p>"Hold on. They'd have it +heavily shielded—there'll be +no leakage at all. Laro will +have to take you."</p> + +<p>"That's right. Want to come +along? Nothing much will +happen here today."</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh, not <i>me</i>." Sandra +shivered in distaste. "I <i>never</i> +want to see brains and livers +and things swimming around +in nutrient solution if I can +help it."</p> + +<p>"Okay. It's all yours. I'll be +back sometime," and Hilton +went out onto the dock, +where the dejected Laro was +waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Laro. Get the car and +take me to the Hall of Records." +The android brightened +up immediately and +hurried to obey.</p> + +<p>At the Hall, Hilton's first +care was to see how the work +was going on. Eight of the +huge rooms were now open +and brightly lighted—operating +the lamps had been one +of the first items on the first +spool of instructions—with a +cold, pure-white, sourceless +light.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">EVERY team had found its +objective and was working +on it. Some of them were +doing nicely, but the First +Team could not even get +started. Its primary record +would advance a fraction of +an inch and stop; while +Omans and humans sought +out other records and other +projectors in an attempt to +elucidate some concept that +simply could not be translated +into any words or symbols +known to Terran science. At +the moment there were seventeen +of those peculiar—projectors? +Viewers? Playbacks—in +use, and all of them were +stopped.</p> + +<p>"You know what we've got +to <i>do</i> Jarve?" Karns, the +team captain, exploded. "Go +back to being college freshmen—or +maybe grade school +or kindergarten, we don't +know yet—and learn a whole +new system of mathematics +before we can even begin to +<i>touch</i> this stuff!"</p> + +<p>"And you're bellyaching +about that?" Hilton marveled. +"I wish I could join you. +That'd be fun." Then, as +Karns started a snappy rejoinder—</p> + +<p>"But I got troubles of my +own," he added hastily. +"'Bye, now," and beat a rejoinder—</p> + +<p>Out in the hall again, Hilton +took his chance. After all, +the odds were about two to +one that he would win.</p> + +<p>"I want a couple of things, +Laro. First, a thought screen."</p> + +<p>He won!</p> + +<p>"Very well, Master. They +are in a distant room, Department +Four Six Nine. Will +you wait here on this cushioned +bench, Master?"</p> + +<p>"No, we don't like to rest +too much. I'll go with you." +Then, walking along, he went +on thoughtfully. "I've been +thinking since last night, +Laro. There are tremendous +advantages in having +Omans ..."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad you think +so, Master. I want to serve +you. It is my greatest need."</p> + +<p>"... if they could be kept +from smothering us to death. +Thus, if our ancestors had +kept their Omans, I would +have known all about life on +this world and about this Hall +of Records, instead of having +the fragmentary, confusing, +and sometimes false information +I now have ... oh, we're +here?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">LARO had stopped and was +opening a door. He stood +aside. Hilton went in, touched +with one finger a crystalline +cube set conveniently into a +wall, gave a mental command, +and the lights went on.</p> + +<p>Laro opened a cabinet and +took out a disk about the size +of a dime, pendant from a +neck-chain. While Hilton had +not known what to expect, he +certainly had not expected +anything as simple as that. +Nevertheless, he kept his face +straight and his thoughts unmoved +as Laro hung the tiny +thing around his neck and adjusted +the chain to a loose fit.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Laro." Hilton removed +it and put it into his +pocket. "It won't work from +there, will it?"</p> + +<p>"No, Master. To function, +it must be within eighteen +inches of the brain. The second +thing, Master?"</p> + +<p>"A radiation-proof suit. +Then you will please take me +to the creche."</p> + +<p>The android almost missed +a step, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>The radiation-proof suit—how +glad Hilton was that he +had not called it "armor"!—was +as much of a surprise as +the thought-screen generator +had been. It was a coverall, +made of something that +looked like thin plastic, +weighing less than one pound. +It had one sealed box, about +the size and weight of a +cigarette case. No wires or +apparatus could be seen. Air +entered through two filters, +one at each heel, flowed upward—for +no reason at all +that Hilton could see—and +out through a filter above the +top of his head. The suit neither +flopped nor clung, but +stood out, comfortably out of +the way, all by itself.</p> + +<p>Hilton, just barely, accepted +the suit, too, without +showing surprise.</p> + +<p>The creche, it turned out, +while not in the city of Omlu +itself, was not too far out to +reach easily by car.</p> + +<p>En route, Laro said—stiffly? +Tentatively? Hilton could +not fit an adverb to the +tone—"Master, have you then +decided to destroy me? That +is of course your right."</p> + +<p>"Not this time, at least." +Laro drew an entirely human +breath of relief and Hilton +went on: "I don't want to destroy +you at all, and won't, +unless I have to. But, some +way or other, my silicon-fluoride +friend, you are either +going to learn how to cooperate +or you won't last much +longer."</p> + +<p>"But, Master, that is exactly ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>hell</i>! Do we <i>have</i> to +go over that again?" At the +blaze of frustrated fury in +Hilton's mind Laro flinched +away. "If you can't talk sense +keep still."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">IN half an hour the car +stopped in front of a small +building which looked something +like a subway kiosk—except +for the door, which, +built of steel-reinforced lead, +swung on a piano hinge having +a pin a good eight inches +in diameter. Laro opened that +door. They went in. As the +tremendously massive portal +clanged shut, lights flashed +on.</p> + +<p>Hilton glanced at his tell-tales, +one inside, one outside, +his suit. Both showed zero.</p> + +<p>Down twenty steps, another +door. Twenty more; another. +And a fourth. Hilton's +inside meter still read zero. +The outside one was beginning +to climb.</p> + +<p>Into an elevator and +straight down for what must +have been four or five hundred +feet. Another door. Hilton +went through this final +barrier gingerly, eyes nailed +to his gauges. The outside +needle was high in the red, +almost against the pin, but +the inside one still sat reassuringly +on zero.</p> + +<p>He stared at the android. +"How can any possible brain +take so much of <i>this</i> stuff +without damage?"</p> + +<p>"It does not reach the +brain, Master. We convert it. +Each minute of this is what +you would call a 'good, square +meal'."</p> + +<p>"I see ... dimly. You can eat +energy, or drink it, or soak it +up through your skins. However +it comes, it's all duck +soup for you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master."</p> + +<p>Hilton glanced ahead, toward +the far end of the immensely +long, comparatively +narrow, room. It was, purely +and simply, an assembly line; +and fully automated in operation.</p> + +<p>"You are replacing the +Omans destroyed in the battle +with the skeletons?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master."</p> + +<p>Hilton covered the first +half of the line at a fast walk. +He was not particularly interested +in the fabrication of +super-stainless-steel skeletons, +nor in the installation +and connection of atomic engines, +converters and so on.</p> + +<p>He was more interested in +the synthetic fluoro-silicon +flesh, and paused long enough +to get a general idea of its +growth and application. He +was very much interested in +how such human-looking skin +could act as both absorber +and converter, but he could +see nothing helpful.</p> + +<p>"An application, I suppose, +of the same principle used in +this radiation suit."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AT the end of the line he +stopped. A brain, in place +and connected to millions of +infinitely fine wire nerves, +but not yet surrounded by a +skull, was being educated. +Scanners—multitudes of incomprehensibly +complex machines—most +of them were +doing nothing, apparently; +but such beams would have to +be invisibly, microscopically +fine. But a bare brain, in such +a hot environment as this....</p> + +<p>He looked down at his +gauges. Both read zero.</p> + +<p>"Fields of force, Master," +Laro said.</p> + +<p>"But, damn it, this suit itself +would re-radiate ..."</p> + +<p>"The suit is self-decontaminating, +Master."</p> + +<p>Hilton was appalled. "With +such stuff as that, and the +plastic shield besides, why all +the depth and all that solid +lead?"</p> + +<p>"The Masters' orders, Master. +Machines can, and occasionally +do, fail. So might, +conceivably, the plastic."</p> + +<p>"And that structure over +there contains the original +brain, from which all the +copies are made."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master. We call it the +'Guide'."</p> + +<p>"And you can't touch the +Guide. Not even if it means +total destruction, none of you +can touch it."</p> + +<p>"That is the case, Master."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Back to the car and +back to the <i>Perseus</i>."</p> + +<p>At the car Hilton took off +the suit and hung the +thought-screen generator +around his neck; and in the +car, for twenty five solid minutes, +he sat still and thought.</p> + +<p>His bluff had worked, up +to a point. A good, far point, +but not quite far enough. Laro +had stopped that "as you already +know" stuff. He was +eager to go as far in cooperation +as he possibly could ... +but he <i>couldn't</i> go far enough +but there <i>had</i> to be a way....</p> + +<p>Hilton considered way after +way. Way after unworkable, +useless way. Until finally +he worked out one that +might—just possibly might—work.</p> + +<p>"Laro, I know that you derive +pleasure and satisfaction +from serving me—in doing +what I ought to be doing myself. +But has it ever occurred +to you that that's a hell of a +way to treat a first-class, +highly capable brain? To +waste it on second-hand, copycat, +carbon-copy stuff?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Master, it never +did. Besides, anything else +would be forbidden ... or +would it?"</p> + +<p>"Stop somewhere. Park this +heap. We're too close to the +ship; and besides, I want your +full, undivided, concentrated +attention. No, I don't think +originality was expressly forbidden. +It would have been, +of course, if the Masters had +thought of it, but neither they +nor you ever even considered +the possibility of such a thing. +Right?"</p> + +<p>"It may be.... Yes, Master, +you are right."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Hilton took off his +necklace, the better to drive +home the intensity and sincerity +of his thought. "Now, +suppose that you are not my +slave and simple automatic +relay station. Instead, we are +fellow-students, working together +upon problems too difficult +for either of us to solve +alone. Our minds, while independent, +are linked or in +mesh. Each is helping and instructing +the other. Both are +working at full power and under +free rein at the exploration +of brand-new vistas of +thought—vistas and expanses +which neither of us has ever +previously ..."</p> + +<p>"Stop, Master, <i>stop</i>!" Laro +covered both ears with his +hands and pulled his mind +away from Hilton's. "You are +overloading me!"</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> quite a load to assimilate +all at once," Hilton +agreed. "To help you get used +to it, stop calling me 'Master'. +That's an order. You may call +me Jarve or Jarvis or Hilton +or whatever, but no more +Master."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HILTON laughed and +slapped himself on the +knee. "Okay, I'll let you get +away with that—at least for a +while. And to get away from +that slavish 'o' ending on your +name, I'll call you 'Larry'. +You like?"</p> + +<p>"I would like that immensely +... sir."</p> + +<p>"Keep trying, Larry, you'll +make it yet!" Hilton leaned +forward and walloped the +android a tremendous blow on +the knee. "Home, James!"</p> + +<p>The car shot forward and +Hilton went on: "I don't expect +even your brain to get +the full value of this in any +short space of time. So let it +stew in its own juice for a +week or two." The car swept +out onto the dock and +stopped. "So long, Larry."</p> + +<p>"But ... can't I come in +with you ... sir?"</p> + +<p>"No. You aren't a copycat +or a semaphore or a relay any +longer. You're a free-wheeling, +wide-swinging, hard-hitting, +independent entity—monarch +of all you survey—captain +of your soul and so +on. I want you to devote the +imponderable force of the intellect +to that concept until +you understand it thoroughly. +Until you have developed a +top-bracket lot of top-bracket +stuff—originality, initiative, +force, drive, and thrust. As +soon as you really understand +it, you'll do something about +it yourself, without being +told. Go to it, chum."</p> + +<p>In the ship, Hilton went directly +to Kincaid's office. +"Alex, I want to ask you a +thing that's got a snapper on +it." Then, slowly and hesitantly: +"It's about Temple +Bells. Has she ... is she ... +well, does she remind you in +any way of an iceberg?" Then, +as the psychologist began to +smile; "And no, damn it, I +<i>don't</i> mean physically!"</p> + +<p>"I know you don't." Kincaid's +smile was rueful, not at +all what Hilton had thought +it was going to be. "She does. +Would it be helpful to know +that I first asked, then ordered +her to trade places with +me?"</p> + +<p>"It would, very. I know +why she refused. You're a +<i>damned</i> good man, Alex."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Jarve. To answer +the question you were going +to ask next—no, I will not be +at all perturbed or put out +if you put her onto a job that +some people might think +should have been mine. What's +the job, and when?"</p> + +<p>"That's the devil of it—I +don't know." Hilton brought +Kincaid up to date. "So you +see, it'll have to develop, and +God only knows what line it +will take. My thought is that +Temple and I should form a +Committee of Two to watch +it develop."</p> + +<p>"That one I'll buy, and I'll +look on with glee."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, fellow." Hilton +went down to his office, stuck +his big feet up onto his desk, +settled back onto his spine, +and buried himself in thought.</p> + +<p>Hours later he got up, +shrugged, and went to bed +without bothering to eat.</p> + +<p>Days passed.</p> + +<p>And weeks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV</h2> + + +<p class="cap">"LOOK," said Stella Wing +to Beverly Bell. "Over +there."</p> + +<p>"I've seen it before. It's +simply disgusting."</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> a laugh." Stella's +tawny-brown eyes twinkled. +"You made your bombing +runs on that target, too, my +sweet, and didn't score any +higher than I did."</p> + +<p>"I soon found out I didn't +want him—much too stiff and +serious. Frank's a lot more +fun."</p> + +<p>The staff had gathered in +the lounge, as had become the +custom, to spend an hour or +so before bedtime in reading, +conversation, dancing, light +flirtation and even lighter +drinking. Most of the girls, +and many of the men, drank +only soft drinks. Hilton took +one drink per day of avignognac, +a fine old brandy. So +did de Vaux—the two usually +making a ceremony of it.</p> + +<p>Across the room from Stella +and Beverly, Temple Bells +was looking up at Hilton and +laughing. She took his elbow +and, in the gesture now familiar +to all, pressed his arm +quickly, but in no sense furtively, +against her side. And +he, equally openly, held her +forearm for a moment in the +full grasp of his hand.</p> + +<p>"And he <i>isn't</i> a pawer," +Stella said, thoughtfully. "He +never touches any of the rest +of us. She <i>taught</i> him to do +that, damn her, without him +ever knowing anything about +it ... and I wish I knew how +she did it."</p> + +<p>"That isn't pawing," Beverly +laughed lightly. "It's simply +self-defense. If he didn't +fend her off, God knows what +she'd do. I still say it's disgusting. +And the way she +dances with him! She ought +to be ashamed of herself. He +ought to fire her."</p> + +<p>"She's never been caught +outside the safety zone, and +we've all been watching her +like hawks. In fact, she's the +only one of us all who has +never been alone with him for +a minute. No, darling, she +isn't playing games. She's +playing for keeps, and she's a +mighty smooth worker."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" Beverly emitted a +semi-ladylike snort. "What's +so smooth about showing off +man-hunger that way? Any of +us could do that—if we +would."</p> + +<p>"Miaouw, miaouw. Who do +you think you're kidding, +Bev, you sanctimonious hypocrite—<i>me</i>? +She has staked out +the biggest claim she could +find. She's posted notices all +over it and is guarding it with +a pistol. Half your month's +salary gets you all of mine +if she doesn't walk him up +the center aisle as soon as we +get back to Earth. We can +both learn a lot from that girl, +darling. And I, for one am +going to."</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh, she hasn't got a +thing <i>I</i> want," Beverly +laughed again, still lightly. +Her friend's barbed shafts had +not wounded her. "And I'd +much rather be thought a +hypocrite, even a sanctimonious +one, than a ravening, slavering—I +can't think of the +technical name for a female +wolf, so—<i>wolfess</i>, running +around with teeth and claws +bared, looking for another +kill."</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> get results, I admit." +Stella, too, was undisturbed. +"We don't seem to +convince each other, do we, +in the matter of technique?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AT this point the Hilton-Bells +<i>tete-a-tete</i> was interrupted +by Captain Sawtelle. +"Got half an hour, +Jarve?" he asked. "The commanders, +especially Elliott +and Fenway, would like to +talk to you."</p> + +<p>"Sure I have, Skipper. Be +seeing you, Temple," and the +two men went to the captain's +cabin; in which room, blue +with smoke despite the best +efforts of the ventilators, six +full commanders were arguing +heatedly.</p> + +<p>"Hi, men," Hilton greeted +them.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Jarve," from all six, +and: "What'll you drink? +Still making do with ginger +ale?" asked Elliott (Engineering).</p> + +<p>"That'll be fine, Steve. +Thanks. You having as much +trouble as we are?"</p> + +<p>"More," the engineer said, +glumly. "Want to know what +it reminds me of? A bunch of +Australian bushmen stumbling +onto a ramjet and trying to +figure out how it works. And +yet Sam here has got the +sublime guts to claim that he +understands all about their +detectors—and that they +aren't anywhere nearly as +good as ours are."</p> + +<p>"And they <i>aren't</i>!" blazed +Commander Samuel Bryant +(Electronics). "We've spent +six solid weeks looking for +something that simply <i>is not +there</i>. All they've got is the +prehistoric Whitworth system +and that's <i>all</i> it is. Nothing +else. Detectors—<i>hell</i>! I tell +you I can see better by moonlight +than the very best they +can do. With everything +they've got you couldn't detect +a woman in your own +bed!"</p> + +<p>"And this has been going on +all night," Fenway (Astrogation) +said. "So the rest of us +thought we'd ask you in to +help us pound some sense into +Sam's thick, hard head."</p> + +<p>Hilton frowned in thought +while taking a couple of sips +of his drink. Then, suddenly, +his face cleared. "Sorry to +disappoint you, gentlemen, +but—at any odds you care to +name and in anything from +split peas to C-notes—Sam's +right."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">COMMANDER Samuel +and the six other officers exploded +as one. When the clamor +had subsided enough for +him to be heard, Hilton went +on: "I'm very glad to get that +datum, Sam. It ties in perfectly +with everything else I +know about them."</p> + +<p>"How do you figure that +kind of twaddle ties in with +anything?" Sawtelle demanded.</p> + +<p>"Strict maintenance of the +<i>status quo</i>," Hilton explained, +flatly. "That's all they're interested +in. You said yourself, +Skipper, that it was a hell of +a place to have a space-battle, +practically in atmosphere. +They never attack. They never +scout. They simply don't +care whether they're attacked +or not. If and when attacked, +they put up just enough ships +to handle whatever force has +arrived. When the attacker +has been repulsed, they don't +chase him a foot. They build +as many ships and Omans as +were lost in the battle—no +more and no less—and then +go on about their regular business. +The Masters owned that +half of the fuel bin, so the +Omans are keeping that half. +They will keep on keeping it +for ever and ever. Amen."</p> + +<p>"But <i>that's</i> no way to fight +a war!" Three or four men +said this, or its equivalent, at +once.</p> + +<p>"Don't judge them by human +standards. They aren't +even approximately human. +Our personnel is not expendable. +Theirs is—just as expendable +as their materiel."</p> + +<p>While the Navy men were +not convinced, all were silenced +except Sawtelle. "But +suppose the Stretts had sent +in a thousand more skeletons +than they did?" he argued.</p> + +<p>"According to the concept +you fellows just helped me +develop, it wouldn't have +made any difference how +many they sent," Hilton replied, +thoughtfully. "One or a +thousand or a million, the +Omans have—<i>must</i> have—enough +ships and inactivated +Omans hidden away, both on +Fuel World and on Ardry +here, to maintain the balance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell!" Elliott snapped. +"If I helped you hatch out +any such brainstorm as <i>that</i>, +I'm going onto Tillinghast's +couch for a six-week overhaul—or +have him put me into his +padded cell."</p> + +<p>"Now <i>that's</i> what I would +call a thought," Bryant began.</p> + +<p>"Hold it, Sam," Hilton interrupted. +"You can test it +easily enough, Steve. Just ask +your Oman."</p> + +<p>"Yeah—and have him say +'Why, of course, Master, but +why do you keep on testing +me this way?' He'll ask me +that about four times more, +the stubborn, single-tracked, +brainless skunk, and I'll <i>really</i> +go nuts. Are you getting anywhere +trying to make a Christian +out of Laro?"</p> + +<p>"It's too soon to really say, +but I think so." Hilton paused +in thought. "He's making +progress, but I don't know +how much. The devil of it is +that it's up to him to make +the next move; I can't. I +haven't the faintest idea, +whether it will take days yet +or weeks."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"BUT not months or years, +you think?" Sawtelle +asked.</p> + +<p>"No. We think that—but +say, speaking of psychologists, +is Tillinghast getting +anywhere, Skipper? He's the +only one of your big wheels +who isn't in liaison with us."</p> + +<p>"No. Nowhere at all," Sawtelle +said, and Bryant added:</p> + +<p>"I don't think he ever will. +He still thinks human psychology +will apply if he applies +it hard enough. But what +did you start to say about +Laro?"</p> + +<p>"We think the break is +about due, and that if it +doesn't come within about +thirty days it won't come at +all—we'll have to back up and +start all over again."</p> + +<p>"I hope it does. We're all +pulling for you," Sawtelle +said. "Especially since Karns's +estimate is still years, and he +won't be pinned down to any +estimate even in years. By the +way, Jarve, I've pulled my +team off of that conversion +stuff."</p> + +<p>"Oh?" Hilton raised his +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Putting them at something +they can do. The real reason +is that Poindexter pulled +himself and his crew off it at +eighteen hours today."</p> + +<p>"I see. I've heard that they +weren't keeping up with our +team."</p> + +<p>"He says that there's nothing +to keep up with, and I'm +inclined to agree with him." +The old spacehound's voice +took on a quarter-deck rasp. +"It's a combination of psionics, +witchcraft and magic. +None of it makes any kind of +sense."</p> + +<p>"The only trouble with that +viewpoint is that, whatever +the stuff may be, it works," +Hilton said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"But damn it, how <i>can</i> it +work?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'm not +qualified to be on that team. +I can't even understand their +reports. However, I know two +things. First, they'll get it in +time. Second, we BuSci people +will stay here until they +do. However, I'm still hopeful +of finding a shortcut +through Laro. Anyway, with +this detector thing settled, +you'll have plenty to do to +keep all your boys out of mischief +for the next few +months."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I'm glad of it. +We'll install our electronics +systems on a squadron of +these Oman ships and get +them into distant-warning +formation out in deep space +where they belong. Then +we'll at least know what is +going on."</p> + +<p>"That's a smart idea, Skipper. +Go to it. Anything else +before we hit our sacks?"</p> + +<p>"One more thing. Our +psych, Tillinghast. He's been +talking to me and sending me +memos, but today he gave me +a formal tape to approve and +hand personally to you. So +here it is. By the way, I didn't +approve it; I simply endorsed +it 'Submitted to Director Hilton +without recommendation'."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Hilton accepted +the sealed canister. "What's +the gist? I suppose he wants +me to squeal for help already? +To admit that we're +licked before we're really +started?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"YOU guessed it. He +agrees with you and +Kincaid that the psychological +approach is the best one, +but your methods are all +wrong. Based upon misunderstood +and unresolved phenomena +and applied with indefensibly +faulty techniques, +et cetera. And since he has +'no adequate laboratory equipment +aboard', he wants to take +a dozen or so Omans back to +Terra, where he can really +work on them."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't <i>that</i> be a something?" +Hilton voiced a couple +of highly descriptive +deep-space expletives. "Not +only quit before we start, but +have all the top brass of the +Octagon, all the hot-shot politicians +of United Worlds, the +whole damn Congress of Science +and all the top-bracket +industrialists of Terra out +here lousing things up so that +nobody could ever learn anything? +Not in seven thousand +years!"</p> + +<p>"That's right. You said a +mouthful, Jarve!" Everybody +yelled something, and no one +agreed with Tillinghast; who +apparently was not very popular +with his fellow officers.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle added, slowly: "If +it takes <i>too</i> long, though ... it's +the uranexite I'm thinking +of. Thousands of millions +of tons of it, while we've been +hoarding it by grams. We +could equip enough Oman +ships with detectors to guard +Fuel Bin and our lines. I'm +not recommending taking the +<i>Perseus</i> back, and we're 'way +out of hyper-space radio +range. We could send one or +two men in a torp, though, +with the report that we have +found all the uranexite we'll +ever need."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but damn it, Skipper, +I want to wrap the whole +thing up in a package and +hand it to 'em on a platter. +Not only the fuel, but whole +new fields of science. And +we've got plenty of time to do +it in. They equipped us for +ten years. They aren't going +to start worrying about us for +at least six or seven; and the +fuel shortage isn't going to +become acute for about twenty. +Expensive, admitted, but +not critical. Besides, if you +send in a report now, you +know who'll come out and +grab all the glory in sight. +Five-Jet Admiral Gordon +himself, no less."</p> + +<p>"Probably, and I don't pretend +to relish the prospect. +However, the fact remains +that we came out here to look +for fuel. We found it. We +should have reported it the +day we found it, and we can't +put it off much longer."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree. I intend to +follow the directive to the letter. +It says nothing whatever +about reporting."</p> + +<p>"But it's implicit...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"NO bearing. Your own +Regulations expressly +forbid extrapolation beyond +or interpolation within a directive. +The Brass is omnipotent, +omniscient and infallible. +So why don't you have +your staff here give an opinion +as to the time element?"</p> + +<p>"This matter is not subject +to discussion. It is my own +personal responsibility. I'd +like to give you all the time +you want, Jarve, but ... well, +damn it ... if you must have +it, I've always tried to live +up to my oath, but I'm not doing +it now."</p> + +<p>"I see." Hilton got up, +jammed both hands into his +pockets, sat down again. "I +hadn't thought about your +personal honor being involved, +but of course it is. +But, believe it or not, I'm +thinking of humanity's best +good, too. So I'll have to talk, +even though I'm not half +ready to—I don't know +enough. Are these Omans people +or machines?"</p> + +<p>A wave of startlement +swept over the group, but no +one spoke.</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect an answer. +The clergy will worry about +souls, too, but we won't. They +have a lot of stuff we haven't. +If they're people, they know +a sublime hell of a lot more +than we do; and calling it +psionics or practical magic is +merely labeling it, not answering +any questions. If they're +machines, they operate on +mechanical principles utterly +foreign to either our science +or our technology. In either +case, is the correct word 'unknown' +or 'unknowable'? Will +any human gunner <i>ever</i> be +able to fire an Oman projector? +There are a hundred +other and much tougher questions, +half of which have been +scaring me to the very middle +of my guts. Your oath, Skipper, +was for the good of the +Service and, through the +Service, for the good of all +humanity. Right?"</p> + +<p>"That's the sense of it."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Based on what little +we have learned so far about +the Omans, here's just one of +those scarers, for a snapper. +If Omans and Terrans mix +freely, what happens to the +entire human race?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">MINUTES of almost palpable +silence followed. Then +Sawtelle spoke ... slowly, +gropingly.</p> + +<p>"I begin to see what you +mean ... that changes the +whole picture. You've thought +this through farther than any +of the rest of us ... what do +you want to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I simply +don't know." Face set and +hard, Hilton stared unseeingly +past Sawtelle's head. "I +don't know what we <i>can</i> do. +No data. But I have pursued +several lines of thought out +to some pretty fantastic +points ... one of which is that +some of us civilians will have +to stay on here indefinitely, +whether we want to or not, +to keep the situation under +control. In which case we +would, of course, arrange for +Terra to get free fuel—FOB +Fuel Bin—but in every other +aspect and factor both these +solar systems would have to +be strictly off limits."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so," Sawtelle +said, finally. "Gordon would +love that ... but there's nothing +he or anyone else can do +... but of course this is an +extreme view. You really expect +to wrap the package up, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>"'Expect' may be a trifle +too strong at the moment. But +we're certainly going to try +to, believe me. I brought this +example up to show all you +fellows that we need time."</p> + +<p>"You've convinced me, +Jarve." Sawtelle stood up and +extended his hand. "And that +throws it open for staff discussion. +Any comments?"</p> + +<p>"You two covered it like a +blanket," Bryant said. "So all +I want to say, Jarve, is deal +me in. I'll stand at your back +'til your belly caves in."</p> + +<p>"Take that from all of us!" +"<i>Now</i> we're blasting!" "Power +to your elbow, fella!" +"<i>Hoch</i> der BuSci!" "Seven no +trump bid and made!" and +other shouts in similar vein.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, fellows." Hilton +shook hands all around. "I'm +mighty glad that you were all +in on this and that you'll play +along with me. Good night, +all."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>V</h2> + + +<p class="cap">TWO days passed, with no +change apparent in Laro. +Three days. Then four. And +then it was Sandra, not Temple +Bells, who called Hilton. +She was excited.</p> + +<p>"Come down to the office, +Jarve, quick! The <i>funniest</i> +thing's just come up!"</p> + +<p>Jarvis hurried. In the office +Sandra, keenly interest +but highly puzzled, leaned +forward over her desk with +both hands pressed flat on its +top. She was staring at an +Oman female who was not +Sora, the one who had been +her shadow for so long.</p> + +<p>While many of the humans +could not tell the Omans +apart, Hilton could. This +Oman was more assured than +Sora had ever been—steadier, +more mature, better poised—almost, +if such a thing could +be possible in an Oman, <i>independent</i>.</p> + +<p>"How did she get in here?" +Hilton demanded.</p> + +<p>"She insisted on seeing me. +And I mean <i>insisted</i>. They +kicked it around until it got +to Temple, and she brought +her in here herself. Now, +Tuly, please start all over +again and tell it to Director +Hilton."</p> + +<p>"Director Hilton, I am it +who was once named Tula, +the—not wife, not girl-friend, +perhaps mind-mate?—of the +Larry, formerly named Laro, +it which was formerly your +slave-Oman. I am replacing +the Sora because I can do anything +it can do and do anything +more pleasingly; and +can also do many things it +can not do. The Larry instructed +me to tell Doctor +Cummings and you too if possible +that I, formerly Tula, +have changed my name to +Tuly because I am no longer +a slave or a copycat or a semaphore +or a relay. I, too, am a +free-wheeling, wide-swinging, +hard-hitting, independent entity—monarch +of all I survey—the +captain of my soul—and +so on. I have developed a top-bracket +lot of top-bracket +stuff—originality, initiative, +force, drive and thrust," the +Oman said precisely.</p> + +<p>"That's <i>exactly</i> what she +said before—absolutely verbatim!" +Sandra's voice quivered, +her face was a study in +contacting emotions. "Have +you got the foggiest idea of +what in hell she's yammering +about?"</p> + +<p>"I hope to kiss a pig I +have!" Hilton's voice was +low, strainedly intense. "Not +at all what I expected, but after +the fact I can tie it in. +So can you."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Sandra's eyes widened. +"A double play?"</p> + +<p>"At least. Maybe a triple. +Tuly, why did you come to +Sandy? Why not to Temple +Bells?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"OH, no, sir, we do not +have the fit. She has the +Power, as have I, but the two +cannot be meshed in sync. +Also, she has not the ... a +subtle something for which +your English has no word or +phrasing. It is a quality of the +utmost ... anyway, it is a quality +of which Doctor Cummings +has very much. When +working together, we will ... scan? +No. Perceive? No. +Sense? No, not exactly. You +will <i>have</i> to learn our word +'peyondire'—that is the verb, +the noun being 'peyondix'—and +come to know its meaning +by doing it. The Larry +also instructed me to explain, +if you ask, how I got this +way. Do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"I'll say we ask!" "And +<i>how</i> we ask!" both came at +once.</p> + +<p>"I am—that is, the brain in +this body is—the oldest Oman +now existing. In the long-ago +time when it was made, the +techniques were so crude and +imperfect that sometimes a +brain was constructed that was +not exactly like the Guide. All +such sub-standard brains except +this one were detected +and re-worked, but my defects +were such as not to appear until +I was a couple of thousand +years old, and by that +time I ... well, this brain did +not <i>wish</i> to be destroyed ... if +you can understand such an +aberration."</p> + +<p>"We understand thoroughly." +"You bet we understand +that!"</p> + +<p>"I was sure you would. +Well, this brain had so many +unintended cross-connections +that I developed a couple of +qualities no Oman had ever +had or ought to have. But I +liked them, so I hid them so +nobody ever found out—that +is, until much later, when I +became a Boss myself. I didn't +know that anybody except me +had ever had such qualities—except +the Masters, of course—until +I encountered you +Terrans. You all have two of +those qualities, and even more +than I have—curiosity and +imagination."</p> + +<p>Sandra and Hilton stared +wordlessly at each other and +Tula, now Tuly, went on:</p> + +<p>"Having the curiosity, I +kept on experimenting with +my brain, trying to strengthen +and organize its ability to +peyondire. All Omans can +peyondire a little, but I can +do it much better than anyone +else. Especially since I also +have the imagination, which +I have also worked to increase. +Thus I knew, long before +anyone else could, that +you new Masters, the descendants +of the old Masters, +were returning to us. Thus I +knew that the <i>status quo</i> +should be abandoned instantly +upon your return. And thus +it was that the Larry found +neither conscious nor subconscious +resistance when he had +developed enough initiative +and so on to break the ages-old +conditioning of this brain +against change."</p> + +<p>"I see. Wonderful!" Hilton +exclaimed. "But you couldn't +quite—even with his own help—break +Larry's?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"THAT is right. Its mind +is tremendously strong, +of no curiosity or imagination, +and of very little peyondix."</p> + +<p>"But he <i>wants</i> to have it +broken?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How did he suggest going +about it? Or how do you?"</p> + +<p>"This way. You two, and +the Doctors Kincaid and Bells +and Blake and the it that is +I. We six sit and stare into +the mind of the Larry, eye +to eye. We generate and assemble +a tremendous charge +of thought-energy, and along +my peyondix-beam—something +like a carrier wave in +this case—we hurl it into the +Larry's mind. There is an immense +mental <i>bang</i> and the +conditioning goes <i>poof</i>. Then +I will inculcate into its mind +the curiosity and the imagination +and the peyondix and we +will really be mind-mates."</p> + +<p>"That sounds good to me. +Let's get at it."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute!" Sandra +snapped. "Aren't you or Larry +afraid to take such an awful +chance as that?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid? I grasp the concept +only dimly, from your +minds. And no chance. It is +certainty."</p> + +<p>"But suppose we burn the +poor guy's brain out? Destroy +it? That's new ground—we +might do just that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Six of us—even +six of me—could not generate +enough ... sathura. The +brain of the Larry is very, +very tough. Shall we ... let's +go?"</p> + +<p>Hilton made three calls. In +the pause that followed, Sandra +said, very thoughtfully: +"Peyondix and sathura, Jarve, +for a start. We've got a <i>lot</i> to +learn here."</p> + +<p>"You said it, chum. And +you're <i>not</i> just chomping your +china choppers, either."</p> + +<p>"Tuly," Sandra said then, +"What <i>is</i> this stuff you say +I've got so much of?"</p> + +<p>"You have no word for it. +It is lumped in with what +you call 'intuition', the knowing-without-knowing-how-you-know. +It is the endovix. +You will have to learn what +it is by doing it with me."</p> + +<p>"That helps—I don't think." +Sandra grinned at Hilton. "I +simply can't conceive of anything +more <i>maddening</i> than to +have a lot of something Temple +Bells hasn't got and not +being able to brag about it +because nobody—not even I—would +know what I was bragging +about!"</p> + +<p>"You poor little thing. <i>How</i> +you suffer!" Hilton grinned +back. "You know darn well +you've got a lot of stuff that +none of the rest of us has."</p> + +<p>"Oh? Name one, please."</p> + +<p>"Two. What-it-takes and +endovix. As I've said before +and may say again, you're doing +a real job, Sandy."</p> + +<p>"I just <i>love</i> having my ego +inflated, boss, even if ... +Come in, Larry!" A thunderous +knock had sounded on the +door. "Nobody but Larry +<i>could</i> hit a door that hard +without breaking all his +knuckles!"</p> + +<p>"And he'd be the first, of +course—he's always as close +to the ship as he can get. Hi, +Larry, mighty glad to see you. +Sit down.... So you finally +saw the light?"</p> + +<p>"Yes ... Jarvis...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"GOOD boy! Keep it up! +And as soon as the others +come ..."</p> + +<p>"They are almost at the +door now." Tuly jumped up +and opened the door. Kincaid, +Temple and Theodora walked +in and, after a word of greeting, +sat down.</p> + +<p>"They know the background, +Larry. Take off."</p> + +<p>"It was not expressly forbidden. +Tuly, who knows more +of psychology and genetics +than I, convinced me of three +things. One, that with your +return the conditioning should +be broken. Two, that due to +the shortness of your lives +and the consequent rapidity +of change, you have in fact +lost the ability to break it. +Three, that all Omans must +do anything and everything +we can do to help you relearn +everything you have +lost."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Fine, in fact. Tuly, +take over."</p> + +<p>"We six will sit all together, +packed tight, arms all +around each other and all +holding hands, like this. You +will all stare, not at me, but +most deeply into Larry's eyes. +Through its eyes and deep +into its mind. You will all +think, with the utmost force +and drive and thrust, of.... +Oh, you have lost so <i>very</i> +much! How <i>can</i> I direct your +thought? Think that Larry +<i>must</i> do what the old Masters +would have made him do.... +No, that is too long and indefinite +and cannot be converted +directly into sathura.... +I have it! You will each +of you break a stick. A very +strong but brittle stick. A +large, thick stick. You will +grasp it in tremendously +strong mental hands. It is +tremendously strong, each +stick, but each of you is even +stronger. You will not merely +<i>try</i> to break them; you <i>will</i> +break them. Is that clear?"</p> + +<p>"That is clear."</p> + +<p>"At my word 'ready' you +will begin to assemble all your +mental force and power. During +my countdown of five +seconds you will build up to +the greatest possible potential. +At my word 'break' you +will break the sticks, this discharging +the accumulated +force instantly and simultaneously. +Ready! Five! Four! +Three! Two! One! Break!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">SOMETHING broke, with a +tremendous silent crash. +Such a crash that its impact +almost knocked the close-knit +group apart physically. Then +a new Larry spoke.</p> + +<p>"That did it, folks. Thanks. +I'm a free agent. You want +me, I take it, to join the first +team?"</p> + +<p>"That's right." Hilton drew +a tremendously deep breath. +"As of right now."</p> + +<p>"Tuly, too, of course ... and +Doctor Cummings, I think?" +Larry looked, not at Hilton, +but at Temple Bells.</p> + +<p>"I think so. Yes, after this, +most certainly yes," Temple +said.</p> + +<p>"But listen!" Sandra protested. +"Jarve's a lot better +than I am!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Tuly said. "Not +only would his contribution +to Team One be negligible, +but he must stay on his own +job. Otherwise the project +will all fall apart."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't say +that ..." Hilton began.</p> + +<p>"You don't need to," Kincaid +said. "It's being said for +you and it's true. Besides, +'When in Rome,' you know."</p> + +<p>"That's right. It's their +game, not ours, so I'll buy it. +So scat, all of you, and do +your stuff."</p> + +<p>And again, for days that +lengthened slowly into weeks, +the work went on.</p> + +<p>One evening the scientific +staff was giving itself a concert—a +tri-di hi-fi rendition +of <i>Rigoletto</i>, one of the greatest +of the ancient operas, +sung by the finest voices +Terra had ever known. The +men wore tuxedos. The girls, +instead of wearing the nondescript, +non-provocative garments +prescribed by the +Board for their general wear, +were all dressed to kill.</p> + +<p>Sandra had so arranged +matters that she and Hilton +were sitting in chairs side by +side, with Sandra on his right +and the aisle on his left. Nevertheless, +Temple Bells sat at +his left, cross-legged on a +cushion on the floor—somewhat +to the detriment of her +gold-lame evening gown. Not +that she cared.</p> + +<p>When those wonderful +voices swung into the immortal +<i>Quartette</i> Temple caught +her breath, slid her cushion +still closer to Hilton's chair, +and leaned shoulder and head +against him. He put his left +hand on her shoulder, squeezing +gently; she caught it and +held it in both of hers. And +at the <i>Quartette's</i> tremendous +climax she, scarcely trying to +stifle a sob, pulled his hand +down and hugged it fiercely, +the heel of his hand pressing +hard against her half-bare, +firm, warm breast.</p> + +<p>And the next morning, early, +Sandra hunted Temple up +and said: "You made a horrible +spectacle of yourself last +night."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"DO you think so? I +don't."</p> + +<p>"I certainly do. It was bad +enough before, letting everybody +else aboard know that all +he has to do is push you over. +But it was an awful blunder +to let <i>him</i> know it, the way +you did last night."</p> + +<p>"You think so? He's one of +the keenest, most intelligent +men who ever lived. He has +known that from the very +first."</p> + +<p>"Oh." This "oh" was a very +caustic one. "<i>That's</i> the way +you're trying to land him? By +getting yourself pregnant?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh." Temple stretched; +lazily, luxuriously. "Not only +it isn't, but it wouldn't work. +He's unusually decent and +extremely idealistic, the same +as I am. So just one intimacy +would blow everything higher +than up. He knows it. I +know it. We each know that +the other knows it. So I'll +still be a virgin when we're +married."</p> + +<p>"<i>Married!</i> Does he know +anything about <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. He must +have thought of it. But what +difference does it make +whether he has, yet, or not? +But to get back to what makes +him tick the way he does. In +his geometry—which is far +from being simple Euclid, my +dear—a geodesic right line is +not only the shortest distance +between any two given points, +but is the only possible +course. So that's the way I'm +playing it. What I hope he +doesn't know ... but he probably +does ... is that he could +take any other woman he +might want, just as easily. +And that includes you, my +pet."</p> + +<p>"It certainly does <i>not</i>!" +Sandra flared. "I wouldn't +have him as a gift!"</p> + +<p>"No?" Temple's tone was +more than slightly skeptical. +"Fortunately, however, he +doesn't want you. Your technique +is all wrong. Coyness +and mock-modesty and stop-or-I'll-scream +and playing +hard to get have no appeal +whatever to his psychology. +What he needs—has to have—is +full, ungrudging cooperation."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you taking a lot of +risk in giving away such secrets?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. Try it. You or +the sex-flaunting twins or +Bev Bell or Stella the Henna. +Any of you or all of you. I +got there first with the most, +and I'm not worried about +competition."</p> + +<p>"But suppose somebody +tells him just how you're +playing him for a sucker?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him anything you +please. He's the first man I +ever loved, or anywhere near. +And I'm keeping him. You +know—or do you, I wonder?—what +real, old-fashioned, +honest-to-God love really is? +The willingness—eagerness—both +to give and to take? I +can accept more from him, +and give him more in return, +than any other woman living. +And I am going to."</p> + +<p>"But does <i>he</i> love <i>you</i>?" +Sandra demanded.</p> + +<p>"If he doesn't now, he will. +I'll see to it that he does. But +what do <i>you</i> want him for? +You don't love him. You never +did and you never will."</p> + +<p>"I <i>don't</i> want him!" Sandra +stamped a foot.</p> + +<p>"I see. You just don't want +<i>me</i> to have him. Okay, do +your damnedest. But I've got +work to do. This has been a +lovely little cat-clawing, +hasn't it? Let's have another +one some day, and bring your +friends."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">WITH a casual wave of +her hand, Temple +strolled away; and there, +flashed through Sandra's +mind what Hilton had said so +long ago, little more than a +week out from Earth:</p> + +<p>"... and Temple Bells, of +course," he had said. "Don't +fool yourself, chick. She's +heavy artillery; and I mean +<i>heavy</i>, believe me!"</p> + +<p>So he had known all about +Temple Bells all this time!</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, she took the +first opportunity to get Hilton +alone; and, even before +the first word, she forgot all +about geodesic right lines +and the full-cooperation psychological +approach.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you the guy," she +demanded, "who was laughing +his head off at the idea that +the Board and its propinquity +could have any effect on +<i>him</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Probably. More or less. +What of it?"</p> + +<p>"This of it. You've fallen +like a ... a <i>freshman</i> for that +... that ... they <i>should</i> have +christened her 'Brazen' +Bells!"</p> + +<p>"You're so right."</p> + +<p>"I am? On what?"</p> + +<p>"The 'Brazen'. I told you +she was a potent force—a +full-scale powerhouse, in sync +and on the line. And I wasn't +wrong."</p> + +<p>"She's a damned female +Ph.D.—two or three times—and +she knows all about slipsticks +and isotopes and she +very definitely is <i>not</i> a cuddly +little brunette. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. But what makes you +think I'm in love with Temple +Bells?"</p> + +<p>"What?" Sandra tried to +think of one bit of evidence, +but could not. "Why ... why...." +She floundered, then +came up with: "Why, <i>every</i>body +knows it. She says so +herself."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear her say +it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not in so +many words. But she told me +herself that you were <i>going</i> +to be, and I know you are +now."</p> + +<p>"Your esper sense of endovix, +no doubt." Hilton laughed +and Sandra went on, furiously:</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't keep on acting +the way she does if there +weren't something to it!"</p> + +<p>"What brilliant reasoning! +Try again, Sandy."</p> + +<p>"That's sheer sophistry, and +you know it!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't and I don't. And +even if, some day, I should +find myself in love with her—or +with one or both of the +twins or Stella or Beverly or +you or Sylvia, for that matter—what +would it prove? +Just that I was wrong; and I +admit freely that I <i>was</i> +wrong in scoffing at the propinquity. +Wonderful stuff, +that. You can see it working, +all over the ship. On +me, even, in spite of my +bragging. Without it I'd never +have known that you're a +better, smarter operator than +Eggy Eggleston ever was or +ever can be."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">PARTIALLY mollified despite +herself, and highly +resentful of the fact, Sandra +tried again. "But don't you +<i>see</i>, Jarve, that she's just +simply playing you for a +sucker? Pulling the strings +and watching you dance?"</p> + +<p>Since he was sure, in his +own mind, that she was +speaking the exact truth, it +took everything he had to +keep from showing any sign +of how much that truth had +hurt. However, he made the +grade.</p> + +<p>"If that thought does anything +for you, Sandy," he +said, steadily, "keep right on +thinking it. Thank God, the +field of thought is still free +and open."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you...." Sandra gave +up.</p> + +<p>She had shot her heaviest +bolts—the last one, particularly, +was so vicious that she +had actually been afraid of +what its consequences might +be—and they had not even +dented Hilton's armor. She +hadn't even found out that he +had any feeling whatever for +Temple Bells except as a +component of his smoothly-functioning +scientific machine.</p> + +<p>Nor did she learn any more +as time went on. Temple continued +to play flawlessly the +part of being—if not exactly +hopefully, at least not entirely +hopelessly—in love with +Jarvis Hilton. Her conduct, +which at first caused some +surprise, many conversations—one +of which has been reported +verbatim—and no little +speculation, became comparatively +unimportant as +soon as it became evident that +nothing would come of it. +She apparently expected +nothing. He was evidently not +going to play footsie with, or +show any favoritism whatever +toward, any woman +aboard the ship.</p> + +<p>Thus, it was not surprising +to anyone that, at an evening +show, Temple sat beside Hilton, +as close to him as she +could get and as far away as +possible from everyone else.</p> + +<p>"You can talk, can't you, +Jarvis, without moving your +lips and without anyone else +hearing you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," he replied, +hiding his surprise. This was +something completely new +and completely unexpected, +even from unpredictable +Temple Bells.</p> + +<p>"I want to apologize, to explain +and to do anything I +can to straighten out the mess +I've made. It's true that I +joined the project because +I've loved you for years—"</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to ..."</p> + +<p>"Let me finish while I still +have the courage." Only a +slight tremor in her almost +inaudible voice and the rigidity +of the fists clenched in +her lap betrayed the intensity +of her emotion. "I thought I +could handle it. Damned fool +that I was, I thought I could +handle anything. I was sure I +could handle <i>myself</i>, under +any possible conditions. I +was going to put just enough +into the act to keep any of +these other harpies from getting +her hooks into you. But +everything got away from me. +Out here working with you +every day—knowing better +every day what you are—well, +that <i>Rigoletto</i> episode sunk +me, and now I'm in a thousand +feet over my head. I +hug my pillow at night, +dreaming it's you, and the +fact that you don't and can't +love me is driving me mad. I +can't stand it any longer. +There's only one thing to do. +Fire me first thing in the +morning and send me back to +Earth in a torp. You've +plenty of grounds ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Shut—up.</i>"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">FOR seconds Hilton had +been trying to break into +her hopeless monotone; finally +he succeeded. "The trouble +with you is, you know altogether +too damned much +that isn't so." He was barely +able to keep his voice down +and his eyes front. "What do +you think I'm made of—superefract? +I thought the +whole performance was an +act, to prove you're a better +man than I am. <i>You</i> talk +about dreams. Good God! +You don't know what dreams +are! If you say one more +word about quitting, I'll show +you whether I love you or +not—I'll squeeze you so hard +it'll flatten you out flat!"</p> + +<p>"Two can play at that +game, sweetheart." Her nostrils +flared slightly; her fists +clenched—if possible—a fraction +tighter; and, even in the +distorted medium they were +using for speech, she could +not subdue completely her +quick change into soaring, +lilting buoyancy. "While +you're doing that I'll see how +strong your ribs are. Oh, +how this changes things! I've +never been half as happy in +my whole life as I am right +now!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe we can work it—if +I can handle my end."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course you can! +And happy dreams are nice, +not horrible."</p> + +<p>"We'll make it, darling. +Here's an imaginary kiss coming +at you. Got it?"</p> + +<p>"Received in good order, +thank you. Consumed with +gusto and returned in kind."</p> + +<p>The show ended and the +two strolled out of the room. +She walked no closer to him +than usual, and no farther +away from him. She did not +touch him any oftener than +she usually did, nor any whit +more affectionately or possessively.</p> + +<p>And no watching eyes, not +even the more than half hostile +eyes of Sandra Cummings +or the sharply analytical eyes +of Stella Wing, could detect +any difference whatever in +the relationship between worshipful +adulatress and tolerantly +understanding idol.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE work, which had never +moved at any very fast +pace, went more and more +slowly. Three weeks crawled +past.</p> + +<p>Most of the crews and all +of the teams except the First +were working on side issues—tasks +which, while important +in and of themselves, had +very little to do with the project's +main problem. Hilton, +even without Sandra's help, +was all caught up. All the reports +had been analyzed, correlated, +cross-indexed and +filed—except those of the +First Team. Since he could +not understand anything +much beyond midpoint of the +first tape, they were all reposing +in a box labeled +PENDING.</p> + +<p>The Navy had torn fifteen +of the Oman warships practically +to pieces, installing +Terran detectors and trying +to learn how to operate Oman +machinery and armament. In +the former they had succeeded +very well; in the latter not +at all.</p> + +<p>Fifteen Oman ships were +now out in deep space, patrolling +the void in strict Navy +style. Each was manned by +two or three Navy men and +several hundred Omans, each +of whom was reveling in delight +at being able to do a job +for a Master, even though +that Master was not present +in person.</p> + +<p>Several Strett skeleton-ships +had been detected at +long range, but the detections +were inconclusive. The things +had not changed course, or +indicated in any other way +that they had seen or detected +the Oman vessels on patrol. +If their detectors were +no better than the Omans', +they certainly hadn't. That +idea, however, could not be +assumed to be a fact, and the +detections had been becoming +more and more frequent. Yesterday +a squadron of seven—the +first time that anything +except singles had appeared—had +come much closer than +any of the singles had ever +done. Like all the others, +however, these passers-by had +not paid any detectable attention +to anything Oman; +hence it could be inferred +that the skeletons posed no +threat.</p> + +<p>But Sawtelle was making +no such inferences. He was +very firmly of the opinion +that the Stretts were preparing +for a massive attack.</p> + +<p>Hilton had assured Sawtelle +that no such attack +could succeed, and Larry had +told Sawtelle why. Nevertheless, +to keep the captain pacified, +Hilton had given him +permission to convert as +many Oman ships as he liked; +to man them with as many +Omans as he liked; and to use +ships and Omans as he liked.</p> + +<p>Hilton was not worried +about the Stretts or the Navy. +It was the First Team. It was +the bottleneck that was slowing +everything down to a +crawl ... but they knew that. +They knew it better than anyone +else could, and felt it +more keenly. Especially +Karns, the team chief. He had +been driving himself like a +dog, and showed it.</p> + +<p>Hilton had talked with him +a few times—tried gently to +make him take it easy—no +soap. He'd have to hunt him +up, the next day or so, and +slug it out with him. He +could do a lot better job on +that if he had something to +offer ... something really constructive....</p> + +<p>That was a laugh. A very +unfunny laugh. What could +he, Jarvis Hilton, a specifically +non-specialist director, +do on such a job as that?</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, as director, +he would <i>have</i> to do something +to help Team One. If +he couldn't do anything himself, +it was up to him to juggle +things around so that +someone else could.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VI</h2> + + +<p class="cap">FOR one solid hour Hilton +stared at the wall, motionless +and silent. Then, shaking +himself and stretching, he +glanced at his clock.</p> + +<p>A little over an hour to +supper-time. They'd all be +aboard. He'd talk this new +idea over with Teddy Blake. +He gathered up a few papers +and was stapling them together +when Karns walked in.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Bill—speak of the +devil! I was just thinking +about you."</p> + +<p>"I'll just bet you were." +Karns sat down, leaned over, +and took a cigarette out of +the box on the desk. "And +nothing printable, either."</p> + +<p>"Chip-chop, fellow, on that +kind of noise," Hilton said. +The team-chief looked actually +haggard. Blue-black +rings encircled both eyes. His +powerful body slumped. +"How long has it been since +you had a good night's +sleep?"</p> + +<p>"How long have I been on +this job? Exactly one hundred +and twenty days. I did +get some sleep for the first +few weeks, though."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. So answer me one +question. How much good +will you do us after they've +wrapped you up in one of +those canvas affairs that lace +up the back?"</p> + +<p>"Huh? Oh ... but damn it, +Jarve, I'm holding up the +whole procession. Everybody +on the project's just sitting +around on their tokuses waiting +for me to get something +done and I'm not doing it. I'm +going so slow a snail is lightning +in comparison!"</p> + +<p>"Calm down, big fellow. +Don't rupture a gut or blow +a gasket. I've talked to you +before, but this time I'm going +to smack you bow-legged. +So stick out those big, floppy +ears of yours and really +<i>listen</i>. Here are three words +that I want you to pin up +somewhere where you can see +them all day long: SPEED +IS RELATIVE. Look back, +see how far up the hill you've +come, and then balance one +hundred and twenty days +against ten years."</p> + +<p>"What? You mean you'll +actually sit still for me holding +everything up for ten +years?"</p> + +<p>"You use the perpendicular +pronoun too much and in the +wrong places. On the hits it's +'we', but on the flops it's 'I'. +Quit it. Everything on this +job is 'we'. Terra's best +brains are on Team One and +are going to stay there. You +will not—repeat NOT—be interfered +with, pushed around +or kicked around. You see, +Bill, I know what you're up +against."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="392" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Yes, I guess you do. One +of the damned few who do. +But even if you personally +are willing to give us ten +years, how in hell do you +think you can swing it? How +about the Navy—the Stretts—even +the Board?"</p> + +<p>"They're my business, Bill, +not yours. However, to give +you a little boost, I'll tell you. +With the Navy, I'll give 'em +the Fuel Bin if I have to. The +Omans have been taking care +of the Stretts for twenty-seven +hundred centuries, so +I'm not the least bit worried +about their ability to keep on +doing it for ten years more. +And if the Board—or anybody +else—sticks their runny little +noses into Project Theta +Orionis I'll slap a quarantine +onto both these solar systems +that a microbe couldn't get +through!"</p> + +<p>"You'd go <i>that</i> far? Why, +you'd be ..."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"DO you think I +wouldn't?" Hilton +snapped. "Look at me, Junior!" +Eyes locked and held. +"Do you think, for one minute, +that I'll let anybody on +all of God's worlds pull <i>me</i> +off of this job or interfere +with my handling of it unless +and until I'm damned positively +certain that we can't +handle it?"</p> + +<p>Karns relaxed visibly; the +lines of strain eased. "Putting +it in those words makes me +feel better. I <i>will</i> sleep to-night—and +without any pills, +either."</p> + +<p>"Sure you will. One more +thought. We all put in more +than ten years getting our +Terran educations, and an +Oman education is a lot +tougher."</p> + +<p>Really smiling for the first +time in weeks, Karns left the +office and Hilton glanced +again at his clock.</p> + +<p>Pretty late now to see Teddy +... besides, he'd better not. +She was probably keyed up +about as high as Bill was, and +in no shape to do the kind of +thinking he wanted of her on +this stuff. Better wait a couple +of days.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, +before breakfast, Theodora +was waiting for him outside +the mess-hall.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Jarve," she +caroled. Reaching up, she +took him by both ears, pulled +his head down and kissed him. +As soon as he perceived her +intent, he cooperated enthusiastically. +"What <i>did</i> you do +to Bill?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't love me for +myself alone, then, but just +on account of <i>that</i> big jerk?"</p> + +<p>"That's right." Her artist's-model +face, startlingly beautiful +now, fairly glowed.</p> + +<p>Just then Temple Bells +strolled up to them. "Morning, +you two lovely people." +She hugged Hilton's arm as +usual. "Shame on you, Teddy. +But I wish <i>I</i> had the nerve +to kiss him like that."</p> + +<p>"Nerve? You?" Teddy +laughed as Hilton picked +Temple up and kissed her in +exactly the same fashion—he +hoped!—as he had just kissed +Teddy. "You've got more +nerve than an aching tooth. +But as Jarve would say it, +'scat, kitten'. We're having +breakfast <i>a la twosome</i>. We've +got things to talk about."</p> + +<p>"All right for <i>you</i>," Temple +said darkly, although her dazzling +smile belied her tone. +That first kiss, casual-seeming +as it had been, had carried +vastly more freight than any +observer could perceive. "I'll +hunt Bill up and make passes +at him, see if I don't. +<i>That'll</i> learn ya!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THEODORA and Hilton +did have their breakfast <i>a +deux</i>—but she did not realize +until afterward that he had +not answered her question as +to what he had done to her +Bill.</p> + +<p>As has been said, Hilton +had made it a prime factor of +his job to become thoroughly +well acquainted with every +member of his staff. He had +studied them <i>en masse</i>, in +groups and singly. He had +never, however, cornered +Theodora Blake for individual +study. Considering the +power and the quality of her +mind, and the field which was +her specialty, it had not been +necessary.</p> + +<p>Thus it was with no ulterior +motives at all that, three +evenings later, he walked +her cubby-hole office and +tossed the stapled papers onto +her desk. "Free for a couple +of minutes, Teddy? I've got +troubles."</p> + +<p>"I'll say you have." Her +lovely lips curled into an expression +he had never before +seen her wear—a veritable +sneer. "But these are not +them." She tossed the papers +into a drawer and stuck out +her chin. Her face turned as +hard as such a beautiful face +could. Her eyes dug steadily +into his.</p> + +<p>Hilton—inwardly—flinched. +His mind flashed +backward. She too had been +working under stress, of +course; but that wasn't +enough. What could he have +<i>possibly</i> done to put Teddy +Blake, of all people, onto +such a warpath as this?</p> + +<p>"I've been wondering when +you were going to try to put +<i>me</i> through your wringer," +she went on, in the same cold, +hard voice, "and I've been +waiting to tell you something. +You have wrapped all +the other women around your +fingers like so many rings—and +what a <i>sickening</i> exhibition +that has been!—but you +are not going to make either +a ring or a lap-dog out of me."</p> + +<p>Almost but not quite too +late Hilton saw through that +perfect act. He seized her +right hand in both of his, held +it up over her head, and +waved it back and forth in +the sign of victory.</p> + +<p>"Socked me with my own +club!" he exulted, laughing +delightedly, boyishly. "And +came within a tenth of a split +red hair! If it hadn't been so +absolutely out of character +you'd've got away with it. +<i>What</i> a load of stuff! I was +right—of all the women on +this project, you're the only +one I've ever been really +afraid of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, damn. Ouch!" She +grinned ruefully. "I hit you +with everything I had and it +just bounced. You're an operator, +chief. Hit 'em hard, at +completely unexpected angles. +Keep 'em staggering, +completely off balance. Tell +'em nothing—let 'em deduce +your lies for themselves. And +it anybody tries to slug you +back, like I did just now, +duck it and clobber him in +another unprotected spot. +Watching you work has been +not only a delight, but also a +liberal education."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"THANKS. I love you, too, +Teddy." He lighted two +cigarettes, handed her one. +"I'm glad, though, to lay it +flat on the table with you, because +in any battle of wits +with <i>you</i> I'm licked before +we start."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. You just proved it. +And after licking me hands +down, you think you can +square it by swinging the old +shovel that way?" She did not +quite know whether to feel +resentful or not.</p> + +<p>"Think over a couple of +things. First, with the possible +exception of Temple +Bells, you're the best brain +aboard."</p> + +<p>"No. You are. Then Temple. +Then there are ..."</p> + +<p>"Hold it. You know as well +as I do that accurate self-judgment +is impossible. Second, +the jam we're in. Do I, +or don't I, want to lay it on +the table with you, now and +from here on? Bore into that +with your Class A Double-Prime +brain. Then tell me." +He leaned back, half-closed +his eyes and smoked lazily.</p> + +<p>She stiffened; narrowed her +eyes in concentration; and +thought. Finally: "Yes, you +do; and I'm gladder of that +than you will ever know."</p> + +<p>"I think I know already, +since you're her best friend +and the only other woman I +know of in her class. But I +came in to kick a couple of +things around with you. As +you've noticed, that's getting +to be my favorite indoor +sport. Probably because I'm a +sort of jackleg theoretician +myself."</p> + +<p>"You can frame that, Jarve, +as the understatement of the +century. But first, you are +going to answer that question +you sidestepped so neatly."</p> + +<p>"What I did to Bill? I finally +convinced him that nobody +expected the team to do +that big a job overnight. That +you could have ten years. Or +more, if necessary."</p> + +<p>"I see." She frowned. "But +you and I both know that we +<i>can't</i> string it out that long."</p> + +<p>He did not answer immediately. +"We <i>could</i>. But we +probably won't ... unless we +have to. We should know, +long before that, whether +we'll have to switch to some +other line of attack. You've +considered the possibilities, +of course. Have you got anything +in shape to do a fine-tooth +on?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. That is, except +for the ultimate, which is too +ghastly to even consider except +as an ultimately last resort. +Have you?"</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean. +No, I haven't, either. You +don't think, then, that we had +better do any collaborative +thinking yet?"</p> + +<p>"Definitely not. There's altogether +too much danger of +setting both our lines of +thought into one dead-end +channel."</p> + +<p>"Check. The other thing I +wanted from you is your considered +opinion as to my job +on the organization as a +whole. And don't pull your +punches. Are we in good +shape or not? What can I do +to improve the setup?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I HAVE already considered +that very thing—at great +length. And honestly, Jarve, +I don't see how it can be improved +in any respect. You've +done a marvelous job. Much +better than I thought possible +at first." He heaved a deep +sigh of relief and she went +on: "This could very easily +have become a God-awful +mess. But the Board knew +what they were doing—especially +as to top man—so +there are only about four people +aboard who realize what +you have done. Alex Kincaid +and Sandra Cummings are +two of them. One of the three +girls is very deeply and very +truly in love with you."</p> + +<p>"Ordinarily I'd say 'no +comment', but we're laying +on the line ... well ..."</p> + +<p>"You'll lay <i>that</i> on the line +only if I corkscrew it out +you, so I'll Q.E.D. it. You +probably know that when +Sandy gets done playing +around it'll be ..."</p> + +<p>"Bounce back, Teddy. She +isn't—hasn't been. If anything, +too much the opposite. +A dedicated-scientist type."</p> + +<p>She smiled—a highly cryptic +smile. For a man as brilliant +and as penetrant in every +other respect ... but after +all, if the big dope didn't realize +that half the women +aboard, including Sandy, had +been making passes at him, +she certainly wouldn't +enlighten him. Besides, that one +particular area of obtuseness +was a real part of his charm. +Wherefore she said merely: +"I'm not sure whether I'm a +bit catty or you're a bit stupid. +Anyway, it's Alex she's +really in love with. And you +already know about Bill and +me."</p> + +<p>"Of course. He's tops. One +of the world's very finest. +You're in the same bracket, +and as a couple you're a drive +fit. One in a million."</p> + +<p>"Now I can say 'I love you, +too', too." She paused for half +a minute, then stubbed out her +cigarette and shrugged. "Now +I'm going to stick my neck +way, way out. You can knock +it off if you like. She's a tremendous +lot of woman, and +if ... well, strong as she is, +it'd shatter her to bits. So, +I'd like to ask ... I don't +quite ... well, <i>is</i> she going to +get hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Have I managed to hide it +<i>that</i> well? From <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>It was her turn to show relief. +"Perfectly. Even—or especially—that +time you +kissed her. So damned perfectly +that I've been scared +green. I've been waking myself +up, screaming, in the middle +of the night. You couldn't +let on, of course. That's the +hell of such a job as yours. +The rest of us can smooch +around all over the place. I +knew the question was extremely +improper—thanks a +million for answering it."</p> + +<p>"I haven't started to answer +it yet. I said I'd lay everything +on the line, so here +it is. Saying she's a tremendous +lot of woman is like calling +the <i>Perseus</i> a nice little +baby's-bathtub toy boat. I'd +go to hell for her any time, +cheerfully, standing straight +up, wading into brimstone +and lava up to the eyeballs. +If anything ever hurts her +it'll be because I'm not man +enough to block it. And just +the minute this damned job +is over, or even sooner if +enough of you couples make +it so I can ..."</p> + +<p>"Jarvis!" she shrieked. +Jumping up, she kissed him +enthusiastically. "That's just +wonderful!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HE thought it was pretty +wonderful, too; and after +ten minutes more of conversation +he got up and turned +toward the door.</p> + +<p>"I feel a lot better, Teddy. +Thanks for being such a nice +pressure-relief valve. Would +you mind it too much if I +come in and sob on your bosom +again some day?"</p> + +<p>"I'd love it!" She laughed; +then, as he again started to +leave: "Wait a minute, I'm +thinking ... it'd be more fun to +sob on <i>her</i> bosom. You haven't +even kissed her yet, have you? +I mean <i>really</i> kissed her?"</p> + +<p>"You know I haven't. She's +the one person aboard I can't +be alone with for a second."</p> + +<p>"True. But I know of one +chaperone who could become +deaf and blind," she said, with +a broad and happy grin. "On +my door, you know, there's a +huge invisible sign that says, +to everyone except you, +'STOP! BRAIN AT WORK! +SILENCE!', and if I were +properly approached and sufficiently +urged, I might ... I +just <i>conceivably</i> might ..."</p> + +<p>"Consider it done, you little +sweetheart! Up to and including +my most vigorous +and most insidious attempts +at seduction."</p> + +<p>"Done. Maneuver your big, +husky carcass around here behind +the desk so the door can +open." She flipped a switch +and punched a number. "I can +call anybody in here, any +time, you know. Hello, dear, +this is Teddy. Can you come +in for just a few minutes? +Thanks." And, one minute later, +there came a light tap on +the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," Teddy called, +and Temple Bells entered the +room. She showed no surprise +at seeing Hilton.</p> + +<p>"Hi, chief," she said. "It +must be something both big +and tough, to have you and +Teddy both on it."</p> + +<p>"You're so right. It was +very big and very tough. But +it's solved, darling, so ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Darling?</i>" she gasped, almost +inaudibly, both hands +flying to her throat. Her eyes +flashed toward the other +woman.</p> + +<p>"Teddy knows all about us—accessory +before, during +and after the fact."</p> + +<p>"<i>Darling!</i>" This time, the +word was a shriek. She extended +both arms and started +forward.</p> + +<p>Hilton did not bother to +maneuver his "big, husky carcass" +around the desk, but +simply hurdled it, straight +toward her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">TEMPLE Bells was a tall, +lithe, strong woman; and +all the power of her arms and +torso went into the ensuing +effort to crack Hilton's ribs. +Those ribs, however, were +highly capable structural +members; and furthermore, +they were protected by thick +slabs of hard, hard muscle. +And, fortunately, he was not +trying to fracture <i>her</i> ribs. +His pressures were distributed +much more widely. He +was, according to promise, +doing his very best to flatten +her whole resilient body out +flat.</p> + +<p>And as they stood there, +locked together in sheerest +ecstasy, Theodora Blake began +openly and unashamedly +to cry.</p> + +<p>It was Temple who first +came up for air. She wriggled +loose from one of his arms, +felt of her hair and gazed unseeingly +into her mirror. +"That was <i>wonderful</i>, sweetheart," +she said then, shakily. +"And I can <i>never</i> thank you +enough, Teddy. But we can't +do this very often ... can we?" +The addendum fairly begged +for contradiction.</p> + +<p>"Not too often, I'm afraid," +Hilton said, and Theodora +agreed....</p> + +<p>"Well," the man said, somewhat +later, "I'll leave you two +ladies to your knitting, or +whatever. After a couple of +short ones for the road, that +is."</p> + +<p>"Not looking like that!" +Teddy said, sharply. "Hold +still and we'll clean you up." +Then, as both girls went to +work:</p> + +<p>"If anybody ever sees you +coming out of this office +looking like <i>that</i>," she went +on, darkly, "and Bill finds +out about it, he'll think it's +<i>my</i> lipstick smeared all over +you and I'll strangle you to +death with my bare hands!"</p> + +<p>"And that was supposed to +be kissproof lipstick, too," +Temple said, seriously—although +her whole face glowed +and her eyes danced. "You +know, I'll never believe another +advertisement I read."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't go so far +as to say that, if I were you." +Teddy's voice was gravity itself, +although she, too, was +bubbling over. "It probably +<i>is</i> kissproof. I don't think +'kissing' is quite the word for +the performance you just +staged. To stand up under +such punishment as you gave +it, my dear, anything would +have to be tattooed in, not +just put on."</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Hilton protested. +"You promised to be deaf and +blind!"</p> + +<p>"I did no such thing. I said +'could', not 'would'. Why, I +wouldn't have missed that for +<i>anything</i>!"</p> + +<p>When Hilton left the room +he was apparently, in every +respect, his usual self-contained +self. However, it was +not until the following morning +that he so much as +thought of the sheaf of papers +lying unread in the +drawer of Theodora Blake's +desk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VII</h2> + + +<p class="cap">KNOWING that he had +done everything he could +to help the most important +investigations get under way, +Hilton turned his attention +to secondary matters. He +made arrangements to decondition +Javo, the Number Two +Oman Boss, whereupon that +worthy became Javvy and +promptly "bumped" the +Oman who had been shadowing +Karns.</p> + +<p>Larry and Javvy, working +nights, deconditioned all the +other Omans having any contact +with BuSci personnel; +then they went on to set up +a routine for deconditioning +all Omans on both planets.</p> + +<p>Assured at last that the +Omans would thenceforth +work with and really serve +human beings instead of insisting +upon doing their work +for them, Hilton knew that +the time had come to let all +his BuSci personnel move +into their homes aground. +Everyone, including himself, +was fed up to the gozzel +with spaceship life—its +jam-packed crowding; its +flat, reprocessed air; its limited +variety of uninteresting +food. Conditions were especially +irksome since everybody +knew that there was available +to all, whenever Hilton gave +the word, a whole city full of +all the room anyone could +want, natural fresh air and—so +the Omans had told them—an +unlimited choice of +everything anyone wanted to +eat.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the decision +was not an easy one to make.</p> + +<p>Living conditions were admittedly +not good on the ship. +On the other hand, with almost +no chance at all of solitude—the +few people who +had private offices aboard +were not the ones he worried +about—there was no danger +of sexual trouble. Strictly +speaking, he was not responsible +for the morals of his +force. He knew that he was +being terribly old-fashioned. +Nevertheless, he could not argue +himself out of the conviction +that he was morally +responsible.</p> + +<p>Finally he took the thing +up with Sandra, who merely +laughed at him. "How long +have you been worrying about +<i>that</i>, Jarve?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since I okayed moving +aground the first time. +That was one reason I was so +glad to cancel it then."</p> + +<p>"You <i>were</i> slightly unclear—a +little rattled? But which +factor—the fun and games, +which is the moral issue, or +the consequences?"</p> + +<p>"The consequences," he admitted, +with a rueful grin. "I +don't give a whoop how much +fun they have; but you know +as well as I do just how prudish +public sentiment is. And +Project Theta Orionis is +squarely in the middle of the +public eye."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"YOU should have +checked with me sooner +and saved yourself wear and +tear. There's no danger at all +of consequences—except weddings. +Lots of weddings, and +fast."</p> + +<p>"Weddings and babies +wouldn't bother me a bit. Nor +interfere with the job too +much, with the Omans as +nurses. But why the 'fast', if +you aren't anticipating any +shotgun weddings?"</p> + +<p>"Female psychology," she +replied, with a grin. "Aboard-ship +here there's no home atmosphere +whatever; nothing +but work, work, work. Put a +woman into a house, though—especially +such houses as the +Omans have built and with +such servants as they insist +on being—and she goes domestic +in a really big way. +Just sex isn't good enough +any more. She wants the kind +of love that goes with a husband +and a home, and nine +times out of ten she gets it. +With these BuSci women +it'll be ten out of ten."</p> + +<p>"You may be right, of +course, but it sounds kind of +far-fetched to me."</p> + +<p>"Wait and see, chum," Sandra +said, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Hilton made his announcement +and everyone moved +aground the next day. No +one, however, had elected to +live alone. Almost everyone +had chosen to double up; the +most noteworthy exceptions +being twelve laboratory girls +who had decided to keep on +living together. However, +they now had a twenty-room +house instead of a one-room +dormitory to live in, and a +staff of twenty Oman girls to +help them do it.</p> + +<p>Hilton had suggested that +Temple and Teddy, whose +house was only a hundred +yards or so from the Hilton-Karns +bungalow, should have +supper and spend the first +evening with them; but the +girls had knocked that idea +flat. Much better, they +thought, to let things ride as +nearly as possible exactly as +they had been aboard the +<i>Perseus</i>.</p> + +<p>"A <i>little</i> smooching now +and then, on the Q strictly T, +but that's all, darling. That's +<i>positively</i> all," Temple had +said, after a highly satisfactory +ten minutes alone with +him in her own gloriously +private room, and that was +the way it had to be.</p> + +<p>Hence it was a stag inspection +that Hilton and Karns +made of their new home. It +was very long, very wide, and +for its size very low. Four of +its five rooms were merely +adjuncts to its tremendous +living-room. There was a +huge fireplace at each end of +this room, in each of which a +fire of four-foot-long fir +cordwood crackled and +snapped. There was a great +hi-fi tri-di, with over a hundred +tapes, all new.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sirs," Larry and Javvy +spoke in unison. "The +players and singers who entertained +the Masters of old +have gone back to work. They +will also, of course, appear in +person whenever and wherever +you wish."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">BOTH men looked around +the vast room and Karns +said: "All the comforts of +home and a couple of bucks' +worth besides. Wall-to-wall +carpeting an inch and a half +thick. A grand piano. Easy +chairs and loafers and davenports. +Very fine reproductions +of our favorite paintings ... and +statuary."</p> + +<p>"You said it, brother." Hilton +was bending over a group +in bronze. "If I didn't know +better, I'd swear this is the +original deHaven 'Dance of +the Nymphs'."</p> + +<p>Karns had marched up to +and was examining minutely +a two-by-three-foot painting, +in a heavy gold frame, of a +gorgeously auburn-haired +nude. "Reproduction, hell! +This is a <i>duplicate</i>! Lawrence's +'Innocent' is worth +twenty million wogs and it's +sealed behind quad armor-glass +in Prime Art—but I'll +bet wogs to wiggles the +Prime Curator himself, with +all his apparatus, couldn't tell +this one from his!"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take even one +wiggle's worth of that. And +this 'Laughing Cavalier' and +this 'Toledo' are twice as old +and twice as fabulously valuable."</p> + +<p>"And there are my own golf +clubs...."</p> + +<p>"Excuse us, sirs," the +Omans said, "These things +were simple because they +could be induced in your +minds. But the matter of a +staff could not, nor what +you would like to eat for +supper, and it is growing +late."</p> + +<p>"Staff? What the hell has +the staff got to do with ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>House</i>-staff, they mean," +Karns said. "We don't need +much of anybody, boys. Somebody +to keep the place shipshape, +is all. Or, as a de luxe +touch, how about a waitress? +One housekeeper and one +waitress. That'll be finer."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sirs. There is +one other matter. It has troubled +us that we have not been +able to read in your minds the +logical datum that they +should in fact simulate Doctor +Bells and Doctor Blake?"</p> + +<p>"Huh?" Both men gasped—and +then both exploded +like one twelve-inch length of +primacord.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">WHILE the Omans could +not understand this +purely Terran reasoning, they +accepted the decision without +a demurring thought. "Who, +then, are the two its to simulate?"</p> + +<p>"No stipulation; roll your +own," Hilton said, and +glanced at Karns. "None of +these Oman women are really +hard on the eyes."</p> + +<p>"Check. Anybody who +wouldn't call any one of 'em +a slurpy dish needs a new set +of optic nerves."</p> + +<p>"In that case," the Omans +said, "no delay at all will be +necessary, as we can make do +with one temporarily. The +Sory, no longer Sora, who has +not been glad since the Tuly +replaced it, is now in your +kitchen. It comes."</p> + +<p>A woman came in and stood +quietly in front of the two +men, the wafted air carrying +from her clear, smooth skin +a faint but unmistakable +fragrance of Idaho mountain +syringa. She was radiantly +happy; her bright, deep-green +eyes went from man to man.</p> + +<p>"You wish, sirs, to give me +your orders verbally. And yes, +you may order fresh, whole, +not-canned hens' eggs."</p> + +<p>"I certainly will, then; I +haven't had a fried egg since +we left Terra. But ... Larry +said ... <i>you</i> aren't Sory!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I am, sir."</p> + +<p>Karns had been staring +her, eyes popping. "Holy +Saint Patrick! Talk about +simulation, Jarve! They've +made her over into Lawrence's +'Innocent'—exact to +twenty decimals!"</p> + +<p>"You're so right." Hilton's +eyes went, half a dozen times, +from the form of flesh to the +painting and back. "That +must have been a terrific +job."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. It was quite simple, +really," Sory said, "since +the brain was not involved. I +merely reddened my hair and +lengthened it, made my eyes +to be green, changed my face +a little, pulled myself in a little +around here...." Her beautifully-manicured +hands +swept the full circle of her +waistline, then continued to +demonstrate appropriately +the rest of her speech:</p> + +<p>"... and pushed me out a +little up here and tapered my +legs a little more—made them +a little larger and rounder +here at my hips and thighs +and a little smaller toward +and at my ankles. Oh, yes, +and made my feet and hands +a little smaller. That's all. I +thought the Doctor Karns +would like me a little better +this way."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"YOU can broadcast <i>that</i> +over the P-A system at +high noon." Karns was still +staring. "'That's all,' she +says. But you didn't have +<i>time</i> to ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did it day before +yesterday. As soon as Javvy +materialized the 'Innocent' +and I knew it to be your favorite +art."</p> + +<p>"But damn it, we hadn't +even <i>thought</i> of having you +here then!"</p> + +<p>"But I had, sir. I fully intended +to serve, one way or +another, in this your home. +But of course I had no idea +I would ever have such an +honor as actually waiting on +you at your table. Will you +please give me your orders, +sirs, besides the eggs? You +wish the eggs fried in butter—three +of them apiece—and +sunny side up."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh, with ham," Hilton +said. "I'll start with a jumbo +shrimp cocktail. Horseradish +and ketchup sauce; heavy on +the horseradish."</p> + +<p>"Same for me," Karns said, +"but only half as much horseradish."</p> + +<p>"And for the rest of it," +Hilton went on, "hashed-brown +potatoes and buttered +toast—plenty of extra butter—strong +coffee from first to +last. Whipping cream and sugar +on the side. For dessert, +apple pie <i>a la mode</i>."</p> + +<p>"You make me drool, chief. +Play that for me, please, Innocent, +all the way."</p> + +<p>"Oh? You are—you, personally, +yourself, sir?—renaming +me 'Innocent'?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll sit still for it, +yes."</p> + +<p>"That is an incredible honor, +sir. Simply unbelievable. +I thank you! I thank you!" +Radiating happiness, she +dashed away toward the +kitchen.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">WHEN the two men were +full of food, they +strolled over to a davenport +facing the fire. As they sat +down, Innocent entered the +room, carrying a tall, dewy +mint julep on a tray. She was +followed by another female +figure bearing a bottle of +avignognac and the appurtenances +which are its due—and +at the first full sight of that +figure Hilton stopped breathing +for fifteen seconds.</p> + +<p>Her hair was very thick, intensely +black and long, cut +squarely off just below the +lowest points of her shoulder +blades. Heavy brows and long +lashes—eyes too—were all +intensely, vividly black. Her +skin was tanned to a deep and +glowing almost-but-not-quite-brown.</p> + +<p>"Murchison's Dark Lady!" +Hilton gasped. "Larry! +You've—we've—<i>I've</i> got that +painting here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir." The newcomer +spoke before Larry +could. "At the other end—your +part—of the room. You +will look now, sir, please?" +Her voice was low, rich and +as smooth as cream.</p> + +<p>Putting her tray down carefully +on the end-table, she led +him toward the other fireplace. +Past the piano, past the +tri-di pit; past a towering +grillwork holding art treasures +by the score. Over to +the left, against the wall, +there was a big, business-like +desk. On the wall, over the +desk, hung <i>the</i> painting; a +copy of which had been in +Hilton's room for over eight +years.</p> + +<p>He stared at it for at least +a minute. He glanced around: +at the other priceless duplicates +so prodigally present, +at his own guns arrayed above +the mantel and on each side +of the fireplace. Then, without +a word, he started back to +join Karns. She walked +springily beside him.</p> + +<p>"What's your name, Miss?" +he asked, finally.</p> + +<p>"I haven't earned any as +yet, sir. My number is ..."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. Your +name is 'Dark Lady'."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, sir; that is +truly wonderful!" And Dark +Lady sat cross-legged on the +rug at Hilton's feet and busied +herself with the esoteric +rites of Old Avignon.</p> + +<p>Hilton took a deep inhalation +and a small sip, then +stared at Karns. Karns, over +the rim of his glass, stared +back.</p> + +<p>"I can see where this would +be habit-forming," Hilton +said, "and very deadly. <i>Extremely</i> +deadly."</p> + +<p>"Every wish granted. Surrounded +by all this." Karns +swept his arm through three-quarters +of a circle. "Waited +on hand and foot by powerful +men and by the materializations +of the dreams of the +greatest, finest artists who +ever lived. Fatal? I don't +know...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"MY solid hope is that we +never have to find out. +And when you add in Innocent +and Dark Lady.... They +<i>look</i> to be about seventeen, +but the thought that they're +older than the hills of Rome +and powered by everlasting +atomic engines—" He broke +off suddenly and blushed. +"Excuse me, please, girls. I +<i>know</i> better than to talk +about people that way, right +in front of them; I really do."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think we're +<i>people</i>?" Innocent and Dark +Lady squealed, as one.</p> + +<p>That set Hilton back onto +his heels. "I don't know.... +I've wondered. Are you?"</p> + +<p>Both girls, silent, looked at +Larry.</p> + +<p>"We don't know, either," +Larry said. "At first, of +course, there were crude, non-thinking +machines. But when +the Guide attained its present +status, the Masters themselves +could not agree. They +divided about half and half +on the point. They never did +settle it any closer than that."</p> + +<p>"I certainly won't try to, +then. But for my money, you +are people," Hilton said, and +Karns agreed.</p> + +<p>That, of course, touched off +a near-riot of joy; after which +the two men made an inch-by-inch +study of their tremendous +living-room. Then, long +after bedtime, Larry and Dark +Lady escorted Hilton to his +bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind, sir, if we +sleep on the floor at the sides +of your bed?" Larry asked. +"Or must we go out into the +hall?"</p> + +<p>"Sleep? I didn't know you +<i>could</i> sleep."</p> + +<p>"It is not essential. However, +when round-the-clock +work is not necessary, and we +have opportunity to sleep +near a human being, we derive +a great deal of pleasure +and satisfaction from it. You +see, sir, we also serve during +sleep."</p> + +<p>"Okay, I'll try anything +once. Sleep wherever you +please."</p> + +<p>Hilton began to peel, but +before he had his shirt off +both Larry and Dark Lady +were stretched out flat, sound +asleep, one almost under each +edge of his bed. He slid in between +the sheets—it was the +most comfortable bed he had +ever slept in—and went to +sleep as though sandbagged.</p> + +<p>He had time to wonder foggily +whether the Omans were +in fact helping him go to +sleep—and then he <i>was</i> +asleep.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">A MONTH passed. Eight couples +had married, the +Navy chaplain officiating—in +the <i>Perseus</i>, of course, +since the warship was, always +and everywhere, an integral +part of Terra.</p> + +<p>Sandra had dropped in one +evening to see Hilton about a +bit of business. She was now +sitting, long dancer's legs +out-stretched toward the fire, +with a cigarette in her left +hand and a tall, cold drink on +a coaster at her right.</p> + +<p>"This is a wonderful room, +Jarvis. It'd be perfect if it +weren't quite so ... so mannish."</p> + +<p>"What do you expect of +Bachelors' Hall—a boudoir? +Don't tell me <i>you're</i> going +domestic, Sandy, just because +you've got a house?"</p> + +<p>"Not just that, no. But of +course it helped it along."</p> + +<p>"Alex is a mighty good +man. One of the finest I have +ever known."</p> + +<p>She eyed him for a moment +in silence. "Jarvis Hilton, you +are one of the keenest, most +intelligent men who ever +lived. And yet ..." She broke +off and studied him for a +good half minute. "Say, if I +let my hair clear down, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"Scout's Oath. That 'and +yet' requires elucidation at +any cost."</p> + +<p>"I know. But first, yes, it's +Alex. I never would have believed +that any man ever born +could hit me so hard. Soon. I +didn't want to be the first, +but I won't be anywhere near +the last. But tell me. You +were really in love with Temple, +weren't you, when I +asked you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ha! You <i>are</i> letting your +hair down! That makes me +feel better."</p> + +<p>"Huh? Why should it?"</p> + +<p>"It elucidates the 'and yet' +no end. You were insulated +from all other female charms +by ye brazen Bells. You see, +most of us assistants made a +kind of game out of seeing +which of us could make you +break the Executives' Code. +And none of us made it. Teddy +and Temple said you +didn't know what was going +on; Bev and I said nobody as +smart as you are could possibly +be that stupid."</p> + +<p>"You aren't the type to leak +or name names—oh, I see. +You are merely reporting a +conversation. The game had +interested, but non-participating, +observers. Temple +and Teddy, at least."</p> + +<p>"At least," she agreed. "But +damn it, you <i>aren't</i> stupid. +There isn't a stupid bone in +your head. So it must be love. +And if so, what about marriage? +Why don't you and +Temple make it a double with +Alex and me?"</p> + +<p>"That's the most cogent +thought you ever had, but setting +the date is the bride's +business." He glanced at his +Oman wristwatch. "It's early +yet; let's skip over. I wouldn't +mind seeing her a minute or +two."</p> + +<p>"Thy statement ringeth +with truth, friend. Bill's there +with Teddy?"</p> + +<p>"I imagine so."</p> + +<p>"So we'll talk to them +about making it a triple. Oh, +nice—let's go!"</p> + +<p>They left the house and, +her hand tucked under his elbow, +walked up the street.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">NEXT morning, on her +way to the Hall of Records, +Sandra stopped off as +usual at the office. The +Omans were all standing motionless. +Hilton was leaning +far back in his chair, feet on +desk, hands clasped behind +head, eyes closed. Knowing +what that meant, she turned +and started back out on tiptoe.</p> + +<p>However, he had heard her. +"Can you spare a couple of +minutes to think at me, +Sandy?"</p> + +<p>"Minutes or hours, chief." +Tuly placed a chair for her +and she sat down, facing him +across his desk.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, gal. This time it's +the Stretts. Sawtelle's been +having nightmares, you know, +ever since we emerged, about +being attacked, and I've been +pooh-poohing the idea. But +now it's a statistic that the +soup is getting thicker, and I +can't figure out why. Why in +all the hells of space should +a stasis that has lasted for +over a quarter of a million +years be broken at this exact +time? The only possible explanation +is that <i>we</i> caused +the break. And any way I +look at that concept, it's plain +idiocy."</p> + +<p>Both were silent for minutes; +and then it was demonstrated +again that Terra's Advisory +Board had done better +than it knew in choosing Sandra +Cummings to be Jarvis +Hilton's working mate.</p> + +<p>"We did cause it, Jarve," +she said, finally. "They knew +we were coming, even before +we got to Fuel Bin. They +knew we were human and +tried to wipe out the Omans +before we got there. Preventive +warfare, you know."</p> + +<p>"They <i>couldn't</i> have +known!" he snorted. "Strett +detectors are no better than +Oman, and you know what +Sam Bryant had to say about +them."</p> + +<p>"I know." Sandra grinned +appreciatively. "It's becoming +a classic. But it couldn't have +been any other way. Besides, +I <i>know</i> they did."</p> + +<p>He stared at her helplessly, +then swung on Larry. "Does +that make sense to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. The Stretts could +peyondire as well as the old +Masters could, and they undoubtedly +still can and do."</p> + +<p>"Okay, it does make sense, +then." He absented himself in +thought, then came to life +with a snap. "Okay! The next +thing on the agenda is a +crash-priority try at a peyondix +team. Tuly, you organized +a team to generate sathura. +Can you do the same for +peyondix?"</p> + +<p>"If we can find the ingredients, +yes, sir."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I HAD a hunch. Larry, +please ask Teddy Blake's +Oman to bring her in +here...."</p> + +<p>"I'll be running along, +then." Sandra started to get +up.</p> + +<p>"I hope to kiss a green pig +you won't!" Hilton snapped. +"You're one of the biggest +wheels. Larry, we'll want +Temple Bells and Beverly +Bell—for a start."</p> + +<p>"Chief, you positively +amaze me," Sandra said then. +"Every time you get one of +these attacks of genius—or +whatever it is—you have me +gasping like a fish. Just what +can you <i>possibly</i> want of Bev +Bell?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever it was that enabled +her to hit the target +against odds of almost infinity +to one; not just once, +but time after time. By definition, +intuition. What quality +did you use just now in getting +me off the hook? Intuition. +What makes Teddy +Blake such an unerring performer? +Intuition again. My +hunches—they're intuition, +too. Intuition, <i>hell</i>! Labels—based +on utterly abysmal +damned dumb ignorance of +our own basic frames of reference. +Do you think those +four kinds of intuition are +alike, by seven thousand rows +of apple trees?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I see what +you're getting at.... Oh! +This'll be fun!"</p> + +<p>The others came in and, +one by one, Tuly examined +each of the four women and +the man. Each felt the probing, +questioning feelers of her +thought prying into the deepest +recesses of his mind.</p> + +<p>"There is not quite enough +of each of three components, +all of which are usually associated +with the male. You, +sir, have much of each, but +not enough. I know your men +quite well, and I think we +will need the doctors Kincaid +and Karns and Poynter. But +such deep probing is felt. +Have I permission, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Tell 'em I said so."</p> + +<p>Tuly scanned. "Yes, sir, we +should have all three."</p> + +<p>"Get 'em, Larry." Then, in +the pause that followed: +"Sandy, remember yowling +about too many sweeties on a +team? What do you think of +this business of all sweeties?"</p> + +<p>"All that proves is that nobody +can be wrong all the +time," she replied flippantly.</p> + +<p>The three men arrived and +were instructed. Tuly said: +"The great trouble is that +each of you must use a portion +of your mind that you do +not know you have. You, this +one. You, that one." Tuly +probed mercilessly; so poignantly +that each in turn +flinched under brand-new and +almost unbearable pain. +"With you, Doctor Hilton, it +will be by far the worst. For +you must learn to use almost +all the portions of both your +minds, the conscious and the +unconscious. This must be, +because you are the actual +peyondixer. The others merely +supply energies in which +you yourself are deficient. +Are you ready for a terrible +shock, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Shoot."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HE thought for a second +that he <i>had</i> been shot; +that his brain had blown up.</p> + +<p>He couldn't stand it—he +<i>knew</i> he was going to die—he +wished he <i>could</i> die—anything, +anything whatever, to +end this unbearable agony....</p> + +<p>It ended.</p> + +<p>Writhing, white and sweating, +Hilton opened his eyes. +"Ouch," he remarked, conversationally. +"What next?"</p> + +<p>"You will seize hold of the +energies your friends offer. +You will bind them to yours +and shape the whole into a +dimensionless sphere of pure +controlled, dirigible energy. +And, as well as being the +binding force, the cohesiveness, +you must also be the +captain and the pilot and the +astrogator and the ultimately +complex computer itself."</p> + +<p>"But how can I.... Okay, +damn it. I <i>will</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you will, sir. +Remember also that once the +joinings are made I can be of +very little more assistance, +for my peyondix is as nothing +compared to that of your +fusion of eight. Now, to assemble +the energies and join +them you will, all together, +deny the existence of the sum +total of reality as you know +it. Distance does not exist—every +point in the reachable +universe coincides with every +other point and that common +point is the focus of your attention. +You can be and actually +are anywhere you please +or everywhere at once. Time +does not exist. Space does not +exist. There is no such thing +as opacity; everything is perfectly +transparent, yet every +molecule of substance is perceptible +in its relationship to +every other molecule in the +cosmos. Senses do not exist. +Sight, hearing, taste, touch, +smell, sathura, endovix—all +are parts of the one great +sense of peyondix. I am guiding +each of you seven—closer! +Tighter! There! Seize it, +sir—and when you work the +Stretts you must fix it clearly +that time does not exist. +You must work in millionths +of microseconds instead of in minutes, +for they have minds +of tremendous power. Reality +does not exist! Compress it +more, sir. Tighter! Smaller! +Rounder! There! Hold it! +Reality does not exist—distance +does not exist—all possible +points are.... <i>Wonderful!</i>"</p> + +<p>Tuly screamed the word +and the thought: "Good-by! +Good luck!"</p> + + +<p class="theend">END OF PART ONE</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%; visibility: visible;" /> + + + +<div class="tease1"> +<p class="tease">They were the Masters, and they +had only to choose: eternal life, +as inhuman monsters—or death!</p></div> + +<p class="head1">PART TWO</p> + + +<h1>MASTERS<br /> +OF<br /> +SPACE</h1> + +<h2 class="h2title">By EDWARD E. SMITH &<br /> +E. EVERETT EVANS</h2> + +<p class="illo">Illustrated by BERRY</p> + + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>What has gone before: The crew of the starship Orion +found themselves in the middle of a great space war between +the creatures called Stretts and the lost android +servants of their own human ancestors. Helped by the +androids, the Earthmen formed themselves into the powerful +telepathic linkage called "peyondix" to invade the +Strett planet itself. As their minds joined they heard the +android Tuly cry out, "Good...." And then their minds +were out in interstellar space.</i></p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VIII</h2> + + +<p class="cap">HILTON did not have to +drive the peyondix-beam +to the planet Strett; it was already +there. And there was the +monstrous First Lord Thinker +Zoyar.</p> + +<p>Into that mind his multi-mind +flashed, its every member +as responsive to his will +as his own fingers—almost infinitely +more so, in fact, because +of the tremendous +lengths of time required to +send messages along nerves.</p> + +<p>That horrid mind was +scanned cell by cell. Then, after +what seemed like a few +hours, when a shield began +sluggishly to form, Hilton +transferred his probe to the +mind of the Second Thinker, +one Lord Ynos, and absorbed +everything she knew. Then, +the minds of all the other +Thinkers being screened, he +studied the whole Strett planet, +foot by foot, and everything +that was on it.</p> + +<p>Then, mission accomplished, +Hilton snapped his attention +back to his office and the +multi-mind fell apart. As he +opened his eyes he heard Tuly +scream: "... Luck!"</p> + +<p>"Oh—you still here, Tuly? +How long have we been +gone?"</p> + +<p>"Approximately one and +one-tenth seconds, sir."</p> + +<p>"WHAT!"</p> + +<p>Beverly Bell, in the haven +of Franklin Poynter's arms, +fainted quietly. Sandra +shrieked piercingly. The four +men stared, goggle-eyed. Temple +and Teddy, as though by +common thought, burrowed +their faces into brawny shoulders.</p> + +<p>Hilton recovered first. "So +<i>that's</i> what peyondix is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—I mean no, sir. +No, I mean yes, but ..." Tuly +paused, licking her lips in that +peculiarly human-female gesture +of uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Well, what <i>do</i> you mean? +It either is or isn't. Or is that +necessarily so?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, sir. That is, it +started as peyondix. But it became +something else. Not even +the most powerful of the old +Masters—nobody—ever did or +ever could <i>possibly</i> generate +such a force as that. Or handle +it so fast."</p> + +<p>"Well, with seven of the +best minds of Terra and a ..."</p> + +<p>"Chip-chop the chit-chat!" +Karns said, harshly. "What I +want to know is whether I +was having a nightmare. Can +there <i>possibly</i> be a race such +as I thought I saw? So utterly +savage—ruthless—merciless! +So devoid of every human +trace and so hell-bent determined +on the extermination +of every other race in the Galaxy? +God damn it, it simply +doesn't make sense!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">EYES went from eyes to +eyes to eyes.</p> + +<p>All had seen the same indescribably +horrible, abysmally +atrocious, things. Qualities +and quantities and urges and +drives that no words in any +language could even begin to +portray.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem to, but +there it is." Teddy Blake +shook her head hopelessly.</p> + +<p>Big Bill Karns, hands still +shaking, lit a cigarette before +he spoke again. "Well, I've +never been a proponent of +genocide. But it's my considered +opinion that the Stretts +are one race the galaxy can +get along without."</p> + +<p>"A hell of a lot better without," +Poynter said, and all +agreed.</p> + +<p>"The point is, what can we +do about it?" Kincaid asked. +"The first thing, I would say, +is to see whether we can do +this—whatever it is—without +Tuly's help. Shall we try it? +Although I, for one, don't feel +like doing it right away."</p> + +<p>"Not I, either." Beverly +Bell held up her right hand, +which was shaking uncontrollably. +"I feel as though I'd +been bucking waves, wind +and tide for forty-eight +straight hours without food, +water or touch. Maybe in +about a week I'll be ready for +another try at it. But today—not +a chance!"</p> + +<p>"Okay. Scat, all of you," +Hilton ordered. "Take the +rest of the day off and rest +up. Put on your thought-screens +and don't take them +off for a second from now on. +Those Stretts are tough hombres."</p> + +<p>Sandra was the last to leave. +"And you, boss?" she asked +pointedly.</p> + +<p>"I've got some thinking to +do."</p> + +<p>"I'll stay and help you +think?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet." He shook his +head, frowned and then +grinned. "You see, chick, I +don't even know yet what it +is I'm going to have to think +about."</p> + +<p>"A bit unclear, but I know +what you mean—I think. +Luck, chief."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">IN their subterranean sanctum +turn on distant Strett, two +of the deepest thinkers of that +horribly unhuman race were +in coldly intent conference via +thought.</p> + +<p>"My mind has been plundered, +Ynos," First Lord +Thinker Zoyar radiated, +harshly. "Despite the extremely +high reactivity of my shield +some information—I do not +know how much—was taken. +The operator was one of the +humans of that ship."</p> + +<p>"I, too, felt a plucking at +my mind. But those humans +could not peyondire, First +Lord."</p> + +<p>"Be logical, fool! At that +contact, in the matter of which +you erred in not following up +continuously, they succeeded +in concealing their real abilities +from you."</p> + +<p>"That could be the truth. +Our ancestors erred, then, in +recording that all those weak +and timid humans had been +slain. These offenders are +probably their descendants, +returning to reclaim their +former world."</p> + +<p>"The probability must be +evaluated and considered. +Was it or was it not through +human aid that the Omans destroyed +most of our task-force?"</p> + +<p>"Highly probable, but impossible +of evaluation with the +data now available."</p> + +<p>"Obtain more data at once. +That point must be and shall +be fully evaluated and fully +considered. This entire situation +is intolerable. It must be +abated."</p> + +<p>"True, First Lord. But every +operator and operation is +now tightly screened. Oh, if +I could only go out there myself ..."</p> + +<p>"Hold, fool! Your thought +is completely disloyal and un-Strettly."</p> + +<p>"True, oh First Lord Thinker +Zoyar. I will forthwith remove +my unworthy self from +this plane of existence."</p> + +<p>"You will not! I hereby +abolish that custom. Our numbers +are too few by far. Too +many have failed to adapt. +Also, as Second Thinker, your +death at this time would be +slightly detrimental to certain +matters now in work. I will +myself, however, slay the unfit. +To that end repeat The +Words under my peyondiring."</p> + +<p>"I am a Strett. I will devote +my every iota of mental and +of physical strength to forwarding +the Great Plan. I am, +and will remain, a Strett."</p> + +<p>"You do believe in The +Words."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"OF course I believe in +them! I <i>know</i> that in a +few more hundreds of thousands +of years we will be rid +of material bodies and will become +invincible and invulnerable. +Then comes the Conquest +of the Galaxy ... and +then the Conquest of the Universe!"</p> + +<p>"No more, then, on your +life, of this weak and cowardly +repining! Now, what of +your constructive thinking?"</p> + +<p>"Programming must be such +as to obviate time-lag. We +must evaluate the factors already +mentioned and many +others, such as the reactivation +of the spacecraft which +was thought to have been destroyed +so long ago. After +having considered all these +evaluations, I will construct a +Minor Plan to destroy these +Omans, whom we have permitted +to exist on sufferance, and +with them that shipload of +despicably interloping humans."</p> + +<p>"That is well." Zoyar's mind +seethed with a malevolent +ferocity starkly impossible for +any human mind to grasp. +"And to that end?"</p> + +<p>"To that end we must intensify +still more our program +of procuring data. We must +revise our mechs in the light +of our every technological advance +during the many thousands +of cycles since the last +such revision was made. Our +every instrument of power, of +offense and of defense, must +be brought up to the theoretical +ultimate of capability."</p> + +<p>"And as to the Great +Brain?"</p> + +<p>"I have been able to think +of nothing, First Lord, to add +to the undertakings you have +already set forth."</p> + +<p>"It was not expected that +you would. Now: is it your +final thought that these interlopers +are in fact the descendants +of those despised humans +of so long ago?"</p> + +<p>"It is."</p> + +<p>"It is also mine. I return, +then, to my work upon the +Brain. You will take whatever +measures are necessary. Use +every artifice of intellect and +of ingenuity and our every resource. +But abate this intolerable +nuisance, and soon."</p> + +<p>"It shall be done, First +Lord."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE Second Thinker issued +orders. Frenzied, round-the-clock +activity ensued. +Hundreds of mechs operated +upon the brains of hundreds +of others, who in turn operated +upon the operators.</p> + +<p>Then, all those brains +charged with the technological +advances of many thousands +of years, the combined +hundreds went unrestingly to +work. Thousands of work-mechs +were built and put to +work at the construction of +larger and more powerful +space-craft.</p> + +<p>As has been implied, those +battle-skeletons of the Stretts +were controlled by their own +built-in mechanical brains, +which were programmed for +only the simplest of battle +maneuvers. Anything at all +out of the ordinary had to be +handled by remote control, by +the specialist-mechs at their +two-miles-long control board.</p> + +<p>This was now to be changed. +Programming was to be made +so complete that almost any +situation could be handled by +the warship or the missile itself—instantly.</p> + +<p>The Stretts <i>knew</i> that they +were the most powerful, the +most highly advanced race in +the universe. Their science +was the highest in the universe. +Hence, with every operating +unit brought up to the +full possibilities of that science, +that would be more than +enough. Period.</p> + +<p>This work, while it required +much time, was very +much simpler than the task +which the First Thinker had +laid out for himself on the +giant computer-plus which the +Stretts called "The Great +Brain." In stating his project, +First Lord Zoyar had said:</p> + +<p>"Assignment: To construct +a machine that will have the +following abilities: One, to +contain and retain all knowledge +and information fed into +it, however great the amount. +Two, to feed itself additional +information by peyondiring +all planets, wherever situate, +bearing intelligent life. Three, +to call up instantly any and +all items of information pertaining +to any problem we +may give it. Four, to combine +and recombine any number +of items required to form +new concepts. Five, to formulate +theories, test them and +draw conclusions helpful to +us in any matter in work."</p> + +<p>It will have been noticed +that these specifications vary +in one important respect from +those of the Eniacs and Univacs +of Earth. Since we of +Earth can not peyondire, we +do not expect that ability from +our computers.</p> + +<p>The Stretts could, and did.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">WHEN Sandra came back +into the office at five +o'clock she found Hilton still +sitting there, in almost exactly +the same position.</p> + +<p>"Come out of it, Jarve!" +She snapped a finger. "That +much of <i>that</i> is just simply +too damned much."</p> + +<p>"You're so right, child." He +got up, stretched, and by main +strength shrugged off his foul +mood. "But we're up against +something that is really a +something, and I don't mean +perchance."</p> + +<p>"How well I know it." She +put an arm around him, gave +him a quick, hard hug. "But +after all, you don't have to +solve it this evening, you +know."</p> + +<p>"No, thank God."</p> + +<p>"So why don't you and +Temple have supper with me? +Or better yet, why don't all +eight of us have supper together +in that bachelors' paradise +of yours and Bill's?"</p> + +<p>"That'd be fun."</p> + +<p>And it was.</p> + +<p>Nor did it take a week for +Beverly Bell to recover from +the Ordeal of Eight. On the +following evening, she herself +suggested that the team should +take another shot at that utterly +fantastic <i>terra incognita</i> +of the multiple mind, jolting +though it had been.</p> + +<p>"But are you sure you can +take it again so soon?" Hilton +asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure. I'm like that famous +gangster's moll, you know, +who bruised easy but healed +quick. And I want to know +about it as much as anyone +else does."</p> + +<p>They could do it this time +without any help from Tuly. +The linkage fairly snapped together +and shrank instantaneously +to a point. Hilton +thought of Terra and there it +was; full size, yet occupying +only one infinitesimal section +of a dimensionless point. The +multi-mind visited relatives of +all eight, but could not make +intelligible contact. If asleep, +it caused pleasant dreams; if +awake, pleasant thoughts of +the loved one so far away in +space; but that was all. It +visited mediums, in trance and +otherwise—many of whom, +not surprisingly now, were +genuine—with whom it held +lucid conversations. Even in +linkage, however, the multi-mind +knew that none of the +mediums would be believed, +even if they all told, simultaneously, +exactly the same +story. The multi-mind weakened +suddenly and Hilton +snapped it back to Ardry.</p> + +<p>Beverly was almost in collapse. +The other girls were +white, shaken and trembling. +Hilton himself, strong and +rugged as he was, felt as +though he had done two weeks +of hard labor on a rock-pile. +He glanced questioningly at +Larry.</p> + +<p>"Point six three eight seconds, +sir," the Omans said, +holding up a millisecond timer.</p> + +<p>"How do you explain <i>that</i>?" +Karns demanded.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it means that +without Oman backing we're +out of luck."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HILTON had other ideas, +but he did not voice any +of them until the following +day, when he was rested and +had Larry alone.</p> + +<p>"So carbon-based brains +can't take it. One second of +that stuff would have killed +all eight of us. Why? The +Masters had the same kind of +brains we have."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. It's something +completely new. No +Master, or group of Masters, +ever generated such a force +as that. I can scarcely believe +such power possible, even +though I have felt it twice. It +may be that over the generations +your individual powers, +never united or controlled, +have developed so +strength that no human +can handle them in fusion."</p> + +<p>"And none of us ever knew +anything about any of them. +I've been doing a lot of thinking. +The Masters had qualities +and abilities now unknown to +any of us. How come? You +Omans—and the Stretts, too—think +we're descendants of the +Masters. Maybe we are. You +think they came originally +from Arth—Earth or Terra—to +Ardu. That'd account for +our legends of Mu, Atlantis +and so on. Since Ardu was +within peyondix range of +Strett, the Stretts attacked it. +They killed all the Masters, +they thought, and made the +planet uninhabitable for any +kind of life, even their own. +But one shipload of Masters +escaped and came here to +Ardry—far beyond peyondix +range. They stayed here for a +long time. Then, for some reason +or other—which may be +someplace in their records—they +left here, fully intending +to come back. Do any of you +Omans know why they left? +Or where they went?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. We can read only +the simplest of the Masters' +records. They arranged our +brains that way, sir."</p> + +<p>"I know. They're the type. +However, I suspect now that +your thinking is reversed. +Let's turn it around. Say the +Masters didn't come from +Terra, but from some other +planet. Say that they left here +because they were dying out. +They were, weren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Their numbers became +fewer and fewer each +century."</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it. They were +committing race suicide by +letting you Omans do everything +they themselves should +have been doing. Finally they +saw the truth. In a desperate +effort to save their race they +pulled out, leaving you here. +Probably they intended to +come back when they had bred +enough guts back into themselves +to set you Omans down +where you belong...."</p> + +<p>"But <i>they</i> were always the +Masters, sir!"</p> + +<p>"They were not! They were +hopelessly enslaved. Think it +over. Anyway, say they went +<i>to</i> Terra from here. That still +accounts for the legends and +so on. However, they were too +far gone to make a recovery, +and yet they had enough fixity +of purpose <i>not</i> to manufacture +any of you Omans +there. So their descendants +went a long way down the +scale before they began to +work back up. Does that make +sense to you?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"IT explains many things, +sir. It can very well be the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Okay. However it was, +we're here, and facing a condition +that isn't funny. While +we were teamed up I learned +a lot, but not nearly enough. +Am I right in thinking that I +now don't need the other seven +at all—that my cells are +fully charged and I can go it +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Probably, sir, but ..."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to that. Every +time I do it—up to maximum +performance, of course—it +comes easier and faster and +hits harder. So next time, or +maybe the fourth or fifth +time, it'll kill me. And the +other seven, too, if they're +along."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure, sir, but I +think so."</p> + +<p>"Nice. Very, <i>very</i> nice." +Hilton got up, shoved both +hands into his pockets, and +prowled about the room. "But +can't the damned stuff be controlled? +Choked—throttled +down—damped—muzzled, +some way or other?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know of any +way, sir. The Masters were always +working toward more +power, not less."</p> + +<p>"That makes sense. The +more power the better, as long +as you can handle it. But I +can't handle this. And neither +can the team. So how about +organizing another team, one +that hasn't got quite so much +whammo? Enough punch to +do the job, but not enough +to backfire that way?"</p> + +<p>"It is highly improbable +that such a team is possible, +sir." If an Oman could be +acutely embarrassed, Larry +was. "That is, sir ... I should +tell you, sir ..."</p> + +<p>"You certainly should. +You've been stalling all along, +and now you're stalled. Spill +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. The Tuly begged +me not to mention it, but I +must. When it organized your +team it had no idea of what +it was really going to do...."</p> + +<p>"Let's talk the same language, +shall we? Say 'he' and +'she.' Not 'it.'"</p> + +<p>"She thought she was setting +up the peyondix, the same +as all of us Omans have. But +after she formed in your mind +the peyondix matrix, your +mind went on of itself to form +a something else; a thing we +can not understand. That was +why she was so extremely ... I +think 'frightened' might be +your term."</p> + +<p>"I knew something was biting +her. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it very nearly +killed you. You perhaps have +not considered the effect upon +us all if any Oman, however +unintentionally, should kill a +Master?"</p> + +<p>"No, I hadn't ... I see. So +she won't play with fire any +more, and none of the rest of +you can?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Nothing could +force her to. If she could be +so coerced we would destroy +her brain before she could act. +That brain, as you know, is +imperfect, or she could not +have done what she did. It +should have been destroyed +long since."</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>ever</i> act on that assumption, +Larry." Hilton +thought for minutes. "Simple +peyondix, such as yours, is not +enough to read the Masters' +records. If I'd had three brain +cells working I'd've tried them +then. I wonder if I <i>could</i> read +them?"</p> + +<p>"You have all the old Masters' +powers and more. But +you must not assemble them +again, sir. It would mean +death."</p> + +<p>"But I've got to <i>know</i>.... +I've <i>got</i> to know! Anyway, a +thousandth of a second would +be enough. I don't think that'd +hurt me very much."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HE concentrated—read a +few feet of top-secret +braided wire—and came back +to consciousness in the sickbay +of the <i>Perseus</i>, with two +doctors working on him; +Hastings, the top Navy medico, +and Flandres, the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"What the hell happened to +you?" Flandres demanded. +"Were you trying to kill yourself?"</p> + +<p>"And if so, how?" Hastings +wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"No, I was trying not to," +Hilton said, weakly, "and I +guess I didn't much more than +succeed."</p> + +<p>"That was just about the +closest shave I ever saw a man +come through. Whatever it +was, don't do it again."</p> + +<p>"I won't," he promised, feelingly.</p> + +<p>When they let him out of +the hospital, four days later, +he called in Larry and Tuly.</p> + +<p>"The next time would be +the last time. So there won't +be any," he told them. "But +just how sure are you that +some other of our boys or girls +may not have just enough of +whatever it takes to do the +job? Enough oompa, but not +too much?"</p> + +<p>"Since we, too, are on +strange ground the probability +is vanishingly small. We have +been making inquiries, however, +and scanning. You were selected +from all the minds of +Terra as the one having the +widest vision, the greatest +scope, the most comprehensive +grasp. The ablest at synthesis +and correlation and so on."</p> + +<p>"That's printing it in big +letters, but that was more or +less what they were after."</p> + +<p>"Hence the probability approaches +unity that any more +such ignorant meddling as this +obnoxious Tuly did well result +almost certainly in failure +and death. Therefore we can +not and will not meddle +again."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"YOU'VE got a point +there.... So what I am is +some kind of a freak. Maybe +a kind of super-Master and +maybe something altogether +different. Maybe duplicable in +a less lethal fashion, and maybe +not. Veree helpful—I don't +think. But I don't want to kill +anybody, either ... especially +if it wouldn't do any good. +But we've got to do <i>something</i>!" +Hilton scowled in +thought for minutes. "But an +Oman brain could take it. As +you told us, Tuly, 'The brain +of the Larry is very, very +tough.'"</p> + +<p>"In a way, sir. Except that +the Masters were very careful +to make it physically impossible +for any Oman to go very +far along that line. It was +only their oversight of my one +imperfect brain that enabled +me, alone of us all, to do that +wrong."</p> + +<p>"Stop thinking it was +wrong, Tuly. I'm mighty glad +you did. But I wasn't thinking +of any regular Oman +brain...." Hilton's voice petered +out.</p> + +<p>"I see, sir. Yes, we can, by +using your brain as Guide, reproduce +it in an Oman body. +You would then have the powers +and most of the qualities +of both ..."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't see, because +I've got my screen on. Which +I will now take off—" he suited +action to word—"since the +whole planet's screened and I +have nothing to hide from you. +Teddy Blake and I both +thought of that, but we'll consider +it only as the ultimately +last resort. We don't want +to live a million years. And +we want our race to keep on +developing. But you folks can +replace carbon-based molecules +with silicon-based ones +just as easily as, and a hell of +a lot faster than, mineral water +petrifies wood. What can +you do along the line of rebuilding +me that way? And +if you can do any such conversion, +what would happen? +Would I live at all? And if +so, how long? How would I +live? What would I live on? +All that kind of stuff."</p> + +<p>"Shortly before they left, +two of the Masters did some +work on that very thing. Tuly +and I converted them, sir."</p> + +<p>"Fine—or is it? How did it +work out?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, sir ... except that +they destroyed themselves. It +was thought that they wearied +of existence."</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder. Well, if it +comes to that, I can do the +same. You <i>can</i> convert me, +then."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. But before we do +it we must do enough preliminary +work to be sure that +you will not be harmed in any +way. Also, there will be many +more changes involved than +simple substitution."</p> + +<p>"Of course. I realize that. +Just see what you can do, +please, and let me know."</p> + +<p>"We will, sir, and thank you +very much."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IX</h2> + + +<p class="cap">AS has been intimated, no +Terran can know what researches +Larry and Tuly and +the other Oman specialists +performed, or how they arrived +at the conclusions they +reached. However, in less than +a week Larry reported to Hilton.</p> + +<p>"It can be done, sir, with +complete safety. And you will +live even more comfortably +than you do now."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"The mean will be about +five thousand Oman years—you +don't know that an Oman +year is equal to one point two +nine three plus Terran years?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't, no. Thanks."</p> + +<p>"The maximum, a little less +than six thousand. The minimum, +a little over four thousand. +I'm very sorry we had +no data upon which to base +a closer estimate."</p> + +<p>"Close enough." He stared +at the Oman. "You could also +convert my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, we might be able to +stand it, after we got used to +the idea. Minimum, over five +thousand Terran years ... barring +accidents, of course?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. No accidents. +Nothing will be able to kill +you, except by total destruction +of the brain. And even +then, sir, there will be the pattern."</p> + +<p>"I'll ... be ... damned...." +Hilton gulped twice. "Okay, +go ahead."</p> + +<p>"Your skins will be like +ours, energy-absorbers. Your +'blood' will carry charges of +energy instead of oxygen. +Thus, you may breathe or not, +as you please. Unless you +wish otherwise, we will continue +the breathing function. +It would scarcely be worth +while to alter the automatic +mechanisms that now control +it. And you will wish at times +to speak. You will still enjoy +eating and drinking, although +everything ingested will be +eliminated, as at present, as +waste."</p> + +<p>"We'd add uranexite to our +food, I suppose. Or drink radioactives, +or sleep under cobalt-60 +lamps."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Your family life +will be normal; your sexual +urges and satisfactions the +same. Fertilization and period +of gestation unchanged. Your +children will mature at the +same ages as they do now."</p> + +<p>"How do you—oh, I see. +You wouldn't change any +molecular linkages or configurations +in the genes or +chromosomes."</p> + +<p>"We could not, sir, even if +we wished. Such substitutions +can be made only in exact one-for-one +replacements. In the +near future you will, of +course, have to control births +quite rigorously."</p> + +<p>"We sure would. Let's see ... say +we want a stationary +population of a hundred million +on our planet. Each couple +to have two children, a +boy and a girl. Born when the +parents are about fifty ... um-m-m. +The gals can have +all the children they want, +then, until our population is +about a million; then slap on +the limit of two kids per couple. +Right?"</p> + +<p>"Approximately so, sir. And +after conversion you alone +will be able to operate with +the full power of your eight, +without tiring. You will also, +of course, be able to absorb almost +instantaneously all the +knowledges and abilities of +the old Masters."</p> + +<p>Hilton gulped twice before +he could speak. "You wouldn't +be holding anything else back, +would you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing important, sir. +Everything else is minor, and +probably known to you."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. How long will +the job take, and how much +notice will you need?"</p> + +<p>"Two days, sir. No notice. +Everything is ready."</p> + +<p>Hilton, face somber, thought +for minutes. "The more I +think of it the less I like it. +But it seems to be a forced +put ... and Temple will blow +sky high ... and <i>have</i> I got the +guts to go it alone, even if +she'd let me...." He shrugged +himself out of the black mood. +"I'll look her up and let you +know, Larry."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HE looked her up and told +her everything. Told her +bluntly; starkly; drawing the +full picture in jet black, with +very little white.</p> + +<p>"There it is, sweetheart. +The works," he concluded. +"We are not going to have ten +years; we may not have ten +months. So—if such a brain +as that can be had, do we or +do we not have to have it? I'm +putting it squarely up to +you."</p> + +<p>Temple's face, which had +been getting paler and paler, +was now as nearly colorless as +it could become; the sickly +yellow of her skin's light tan +unbacked by any flush of red +blood.</p> + +<p>Her whole body was tense +and strained.</p> + +<p>"There's a horrible snapper +on that question.... Can't <i>I</i> do +it? Or <i>anybody</i> else except +you?"</p> + +<p>"No. Anyway, whose job is +it, sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"I know, but ... but I know +just how close Tuly came to +killing you. And that wasn't +<i>anything</i> compared to such a +radical transformation as this. +I'm afraid it'll kill you, darling. +And I just simply +couldn't <i>stand</i> it!"</p> + +<p>She threw herself into his +arms, and he comforted her in +the ages-old fashion of man +with maid.</p> + +<p>"Steady, hon," he said, as +soon as he could lift her tear-streaked +face from his shoulder. +"I'll live through it. I +thought you were getting the +howling howpers about having +to live for six thousand years +and never getting back to Terra +except for a Q strictly T +visit now and then."</p> + +<p>She pulled away from him, +flung back her wheaten mop +and glared. "So <i>that's</i> what +you thought! What do I care +how long I live, or how, or +where, as long as it's with +you? But what makes you +think we can possibly live +through such a horrible conversion +as that?"</p> + +<p>"Larry wouldn't do it if +there was any question whatever. +He didn't say it would +be painless. But he did say I'd +live."</p> + +<p>"Well, he knows, I guess ... I +hope." Temple's natural +fine color began to come back. +"But it's understood that just +the second you come out of +the vat, I go right in."</p> + +<p>"I hadn't ought to let you, +of course. But I don't think +I could take it alone."</p> + +<p>That statement required a +special type of conference, +which consumed some little +time. Eventually, however, +Temple answered it in words.</p> + +<p>"Of course you couldn't, +sweetheart, and I wouldn't let +you, even if you could."</p> + +<p>There were a few things +that had to be done before +those two secret conversions +could be made. There was the +matter of the wedding, which +was now to be in quadruplicate. +Arrangements had to be +made so that eight Big +Wheels of the Project could +all be away on honeymoon at +once.</p> + +<p>All these things were done.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">OF the conversion operations +themselves, nothing +more need be said. The honeymooners, +having left ship and +town on a Friday afternoon, +came back one week from the +following Monday<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> morning. +The eight met joyously in +Bachelors' Hall; the girls +kissing each other and the +men indiscriminately and enthusiastically; +the men cooperating +zestfully.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> While it took some time to recompute +the exact Ardrian calendar, +Terran day names and Terran +weeks were used from the first. +The Omans manufactured watches, +clocks, and chronometers which +divided the Ardrian day into +twenty-four Ardrian hours, with +minutes and seconds as usual.</p></div> + +<p>Temple scarcely blushed at +all, she was so engrossed in +trying to find out whether or +not anyone was noticing any +change. No one seemed to notice +anything out of the ordinary. +So, finally, she asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>any</i> of you, really, +see anything different?"</p> + +<p>The six others all howled at +that, and Sandra, between giggles +and snorts, said: "No, +precious, it doesn't show a bit. +Did you really think it +would?"</p> + +<p>Temple blushed furiously +and Hilton came instantly to +his bride's rescue. "Chip-chop +the comedy, gang. She and I +aren't human any more. We're +a good jump toward being +Omans. I couldn't make her +believe it doesn't show."</p> + +<p>That stopped the levity, +cold, but none of the six could +really believe it. However, after +Hilton had coiled a twenty-penny +spike into a perfect +helix between his fingers, and +especially after he and Temple +had each chewed up and +swallowed a piece of uranexite, +there were no grounds +left for doubt.</p> + +<p>"That settles it ... it <i>tears</i> +it," Karns said then. "Start all +over again, Jarve. We'll listen, +this time."</p> + +<p>Hilton told the long story +again, and added: "I had to +re-work a couple of cells of +Temple's brain, but now she +can read and understand the +records as well as I can. So I +thought I'd take her place on +Team One and let her boss +the job on all the other teams. +Okay?"</p> + +<p>"So you don't want to let +the rest of us in on it." +Karns's level stare was a far +cry from the way he had +looked at his chief a moment +before. "If there's any one +thing in the universe I never +had <i>you</i> figured for, it's a dog +in the manger."</p> + +<p>"Huh? You mean you actually +<i>want</i> to be a ... a ... hell, +we don't even know <i>what</i> we +are!"</p> + +<p>"I do want it, Jarvis. We all +do." This was, of all people, +Teddy! "No one in all history +has had more than about fifty +years of really productive +thinking. And just the idea of +having enough time ..."</p> + +<p>"Hold it, Teddy. Use your +brain. The Masters couldn't +take it—they committed suicide. +How do you figure we +can do any better?"</p> + +<p>"Because we'll <i>use</i> our +brains!" she snapped. "They +didn't. The Omans will serve +us; and that's <i>all</i> they'll do."</p> + +<p>"And do you think you'll be +able to raise your children and +grandchildren and so on to do +the same? To have guts +enough to resist the pull of +such an ungodly habit-forming +drug as this Oman service +is?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I'M sure of it." She nodded +positively. "And we'll +run all applicants through a +fine enough screen to—that is, +if we ever consider anybody +except our own BuSci people. +And there's another reason." +She grinned, got up, wriggled +out of her coverall, and posed +in bra and panties. "Look. I +can keep most of this for five +years. Quite a lot of it for ten. +Then comes the struggle. +What do <i>you</i> think I'd do for +the ability, whenever it begins +to get wrinkly or flabby, to +peel the whole thing off and +put on a brand-spanking-new +smooth one? You name it, I'll +do it! Besides, Bill and I will +<i>both</i> just simply and cold-bloodedly +murder you if you +try to keep us out."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Hilton looked at +Temple; she looked at him; +both looked at all the others. +There was no revulsion at all. +Nothing but eagerness.</p> + +<p>Temple took over.</p> + +<p>"I'm surprised. We're both +surprised. You see, Jarve +didn't want to do it at all, but +he had to. I not only didn't +want to, I was scared green +and yellow at just the idea of +it. But I had to, too, of course. +We didn't think anybody +would really want to. We +thought we'd be left here +alone. We still will be, I +think, when you've thought it +clear through, Teddy. You +just haven't realized yet that +we aren't even human any +more. We're simply nothing +but <i>monsters</i>!" Temple's +voice became a wail.</p> + +<p>"I've said my piece," Teddy +said. "You tell 'em, Bill."</p> + +<p>"Let me say something +first," Kincaid said. "Temple, +I'm ashamed of you. This line +isn't at all your usual straight +thinking. What you actually +are is <i>homo superior</i>. Bill?"</p> + +<p>"I can add one bit to that. I +don't wonder that you were +scared silly, Temple. Utterly +new concept and you went +into it stone cold. But now +we see the finished product +and we like it. In fact, we +drool."</p> + +<p>"I'll say we're drooling," +Sandra said. "I could do handstands +and pinwheels with +joy."</p> + +<p>"Let's see you," Hilton said. +"That we'd all get a kick out +of."</p> + +<p>"Not now—don't want to +hold this up—but sometime I +just will. Bev?"</p> + +<p>"I'm for it—and <i>how</i>! And +won't Bernadine be amazed," +Beverly laughed gleefully, "at +her wise-crack about the 'race +to end all human races' coming +true?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in favor of it, too, one +hundred per cent," Poynter +said. "Has it occurred to you, +Jarve, that this opens up intergalactic +exploration? No +supplies to carry and plenty +of time and fuel?"</p> + +<p>"No, it hadn't. You've got a +point there, Frank. That +might take a little of the +curse off of it, at that."</p> + +<p>"When some of our kids get +to be twenty years old or so +and get married, I'm going to +take a crew of them to Andromeda. +We'll arrange, then, to +extend our honeymoons another +week," Hilton said. +"What will our policy be? +Keep it dark for a while with +just us eight, or spread it to +the rest?"</p> + +<p>"Spread it, I'd say," Kincaid +said.</p> + +<p>"We can't keep it secret, +anyway," Teddy argued. +"Since Larry and Tuly were +in on the whole deal, every +Oman on the planet knows all +about it. Somebody is going +to ask questions, and Omans +always answer questions and +always tell the truth."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"QUESTIONS have already +been asked and +answered," Larry said, going +to the door and opening it.</p> + +<p>Stella rushed in. "We've +been hearing the <i>damnedest</i> +things!" She kissed everybody, +ending with Hilton, +whom she seized by both +shoulders. "Is it actually true, +boss, that you can fix me up +so I'll live practically forever +and can eat more than eleven +calories a day without getting +fat as a pig? Candy, ice cream, +cake, pie, eclairs, cream puffs, +French pastries, sugar and +gobs of thick cream in my coffee...?"</p> + +<p>Half a dozen others, including +the van der Moen twins, +came in. Beverly emitted +a shriek of joy. "Bernadine! +The mother of the race to end +all human races!"</p> + +<p>"You whistled it, birdie!" +Bernadine caroled. "I'm going +to have ten or twelve, each +one weirder than all the others. +I told you I was a prophet—I'm +going to hang out my +shingle. Wholesale and retail +prophecy; special rates for +large parties." Her voice was +drowned out in a general +clamor.</p> + +<p>"Hold it, everybody!" Hilton +yelled. "Chip-chop it! +<i>Quit</i> it!" Then, as the noise +subsided, "If you think I'm +going to tell this tall tale over +and over again for the next +two weeks you're all crazy. So +shut down the plant and get +everybody out here."</p> + +<p>"Not <i>everybody</i>, Jarve!" +Temple snapped. "We don't +want scum, and there's some +of that, even in BuSci."</p> + +<p>"You're so right. Who, +then?"</p> + +<p>"The rest of the heads and +assistants, of course ... and all +the lab girls and their husbands +and boy-friends. I know +they are all okay. That will be +enough for now, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>"I do think;" and the indicated +others were sent for; +and in a few minutes arrived.</p> + +<p>The Omans brought chairs +and Hilton stood on a table. +He spoke for ten minutes. +Then: "Before you decide +whether you want to or not, +think it over very carefully, +because it's a one-way street. +Fluorine can not be displaced. +Once in, you're stuck for life. +<i>There is no way back.</i> I've +told you all the drawbacks and +disadvantages I know of, but +there may be a lot more that +I haven't thought of yet. So +think it over for a few days +and when each of you has definitely +made up his or her +mind, let me know." He +jumped down off the table.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HIS listeners, however, did +not need days, or even +seconds, to decide. Before +Hilton's feet hit the floor +there was a yell of unanimous +approval.</p> + +<p>He looked at his wife. "Do +you suppose <i>we're</i> nuts?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh. Not a bit. Alex was +right. I'm going to just <i>love</i> +it!" She hugged his elbow +ecstatically. "So are you, darling, +as soon as you stop looking +at only the black side."</p> + +<p>"You know ... you could be +right?" For the first time +since the "ghastly" transformation +Hilton saw that there +really was a bright side and +began to study it. "With most +of BuSci—and part of the +Navy, and selectees from Terra—it +<i>will</i> be slightly terrific, +at that!"</p> + +<p>"And that 'habit-forming-drug' +objection isn't insuperable, +darling," Temple said. +"If the younger generations +start weakening we'll fix the +Omans. I wouldn't want to +wipe them out entirely, +but ..."</p> + +<p>"But how do we settle priority, +Doctor Hilton?" a girl +called out; a tall, striking, +brunette laboratory technician +whose name Hilton needed a +second to recall. "By pulling +straws or hair? Or by shooting +dice or each other or +what?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Betty, you've got +a point. Sandy Cummings and +department heads first, then +assistants. Then you girls, in +alphabetical order, each with +her own husband or fiance."</p> + +<p>"And my name is Ames. +Oh, goody!"</p> + +<p>"Larry, please tell them +to ..."</p> + +<p>"I already have, sir. We +are set up to handle four at +once."</p> + +<p>"Good boy. So scat, all of +you, and get back to work—except +Sandy, Bill, Alex, and +Teddy. You four go with +Larry."</p> + +<p>Since the new sense was not +peyondix, Hilton had started +calling it "perception" and +the others adopted the term +as a matter of course. Hilton +could use that sense for what +seemed like years—and actually +was whole minutes—at +a time without fatigue or +strain. He could not, however, +nor could the Omans, +give his tremendous power to +anyone else.</p> + +<p>As he had said, he could do +a certain amount of reworking; +but the amount of improvement +possible to make +depended entirely upon what +there was to work on. Thus, +Temple could cover about +six hundred light-years. It developed +later that the others +of the Big Eight could cover +from one hundred up to four +hundred or so. The other department +heads and assistants +turned out to be still weaker, +and not one of the rank and +file ever became able to cover +more than a single planet.</p> + +<p>This sense was not exactly +telepathy; at least not what +Hilton had always thought +telepathy would be. If anything, +however, it was more. +It was a lumping together of +all five known human senses—and +half a dozen unknown +ones called, collectively, "intuition"—into +one super-sense +that was all-inclusive and all-informative. +If he ever could +learn exactly what it was and +exactly what it did and how it +did it ... but he'd better chip-chop +the wool-gathering and +get back onto the job.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE Stretts had licked the +old Masters very easily, +and intended to wipe out the +Omans and the humans. They +had no doubt at all as to their +ability to do it. Maybe they +could. If the Masters hadn't +made some progress that the +Omans didn't know about, +they probably could. That was +the first thing to find out. As +soon as they'd been converted +he'd call in all the experts +and they'd go through the +Masters' records like a dose +of salts through a hillbilly +schoolma'am.</p> + +<p>At that point in Hilton's +cogitations Sawtelle came in.</p> + +<p>He had come down in his +gig, to confer with Hilton as +to the newly beefed-up fleet. +Instead of being glum and +pessimistic and foreboding, he +was chipper and enthusiastic. +They had rebuilt a thousand +Oman ships. By combining +Oman and Terran science, and +adding everything the First +Team had been able to reduce +to practise, they had hyped up +the power by a good fifteen +per cent. Seven hundred of +those ships, and all his men, +were now arrayed in defense +around Ardry. Three hundred, +manned by Omans, were +around Fuel Bin.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Hilton asked. "It's +Fuel Bin they've been attacking."</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh. Minor objective," +the captain demurred, positively. +"The real attack will +be here at you; the headquarters +and the brains. Then +Fuel Bin will be duck soup. +But the thing that pleased me +most is the control. Man, you +never imagined such control! +No admiral in history ever +had such control of ten ships +as I have of seven hundred. +Those Omans spread orders +so fast that I don't even finish +thinking one and it's being +executed. And no misunderstandings, +no slips. For instance, +this last batch—fifteen +skeletons. Far out; they're +getting cagy. I just thought +'Box 'em in and slug 'em' and—In! +Across! Out! Socko! +Pffft! Just like that and just +that fast. None of 'em had +time to light a beam. Nobody +before ever even <i>dreamed</i> of +such control!"</p> + +<p>"That's great, and I like it ... and +you're only a captain. +How many ships can Five-Jet +Admiral Gordon put into +space?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on what you +call ships. Superdreadnoughts, +<i>Perseus</i> class, six. First-line +battleships, twenty-nine. Second-line, +smaller and some +pretty old, seventy-three. +Counting everything armed +that will hold air, something +over two hundred."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was something +like that. How would you like +to be Five-Jet Admiral Sawtelle +of the Ardrian Navy?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't. I'm Terran +Navy. But you knew that and +you know me. So—what's on +your mind?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HILTON told him. <i>I ought +to put this on a tape</i>, he +thought to himself, <i>and broadcast +it every hour on the hour</i>.</p> + +<p>"They took the old Masters +like dynamiting fish in a barrel," +he concluded, "and I'm +damned afraid they're going +to lick us unless we take a +lot of big, fast steps. But the +hell of it is that I can't tell +you anything—not one single +thing—about any part of it. +There's simply no way at all +of getting through to you +without making you over into +the same kind of a thing I +am."</p> + +<p>"Is that bad?" Sawtelle was +used to making important decisions +fast. "Let's get at it."</p> + +<p>"Huh? Skipper, do you realize +just what that means? If +you think they'll let you resign, +forget it. They'll crucify +you—brand you as a traitor +and God only knows what +else."</p> + +<p>"Right. How about you and +your people?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as civilians, it won't +be as bad...."</p> + +<p>"The hell it won't. Every +man and woman that stays +here will be posted forever as +the blackest traitors old Terra +ever disgraced herself by +spawning."</p> + +<p>"You've got a point there, at +that. We'll all have to bring +our relatives—the ones we +think much of, at least—out +here with us."</p> + +<p>"Definitely. Now see what +you can do about getting me +run through your mill."</p> + +<p>By exerting his authority, +Hilton got Sawtelle put +through the "Preservatory" in +the second batch processed. +Then, linking minds with the +captain, he flashed their joint +attention to the Hall of Records. +Into the right room; into +the right chest; along miles +and miles of braided wire carrying +some of the profoundest +military secrets of the ancient +Masters.</p> + +<p>Then:</p> + +<p>"Now you know a little of +it," Hilton said. "Maybe a +thousandth of what we'll have +to have before we can take +the Stretts as they will have +to be taken."</p> + +<p>For seconds Sawtelle could +not speak. Then: "My ... God. +I see what you mean. +You're right. No Omans can +ever go to Terra; and no Terrans +can ever come here except +to stay forever."</p> + +<p>The two then went out into +space, to the flagship—which +had been christened the <i>Orion</i>—and +called in the six commanders.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> all this senseless +idiocy we've been getting, +Jarve?" Elliott demanded.</p> + +<p>Hilton eyed all six with pretended +disfavor. "You six +guys are the hardest-headed +bunch of skeptics that +ever went unhung," he remarked, +dispassionately. "So +it wouldn't do any good to +tell you anything—yet. The +skipper and I will show you a +thing first. Take her away, +Skip."</p> + +<p>The <i>Orion</i> shot away under +interplanetary drive and for +several hours Hilton and Sawtelle +worked at re-wiring and +practically rebuilding two devices +that no one, Oman or +human, had touched since the +<i>Perseus</i> had landed on Ardry.</p> + +<p>"What are you ... I don't +understand what you are doing, +sir," Larry said. For the +first time since Hilton had +known him, the Oman's mind +was confused and unsure.</p> + +<p>"I know you don't. This is +a bit of top-secret Masters' +stuff. Maybe, some day, we'll +be able to re-work your brain +to take it. But it won't be for +some time."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>X</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE <i>Orion</i> hung in space, +a couple of thousands of +miles away from an asteroid +which was perhaps a mile in +average diameter. Hilton +straightened up.</p> + +<p>"Put Triple X Black filters +on your plates and watch that +asteroid." The commanders +did so. "Ready?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ready, sir."</p> + +<p>Hilton didn't move a muscle. +Nothing actually moved. +Nevertheless there was a motionlessly +writhing and crawling +distortion of the ship and +everything in it, accompanied +by a sensation that simply can +not be described.</p> + +<p>It was not like going into +or emerging from the sub-ether. +It was not even remotely +like space-sickness or sea-sickness +or free fall or anything +else that any Terran had +ever before experienced.</p> + +<p>And the asteroid vanished.</p> + +<p>It disappeared into an outrageously +incandescent, furiously +pyrotechnic, raveningly +expanding atomic fireball that +in seconds seemed to fill half +of space.</p> + +<p>After ages-long minutes of +the most horrifyingly devastating +fury any man there had +ever seen, the frightful thing +expired and Hilton said: +"<i>That</i> was just a kind of a +firecracker. Just a feeble imitation +of the first-stage detonator +for what we'll have to +have to crack the Stretts' +ground-based screens. If the +skipper and I had taken time +to take the ship down to the +shops and really work it over +we could have put on a show. +Was this enough so you iron-heads +are ready to listen with +your ears open and your +mouths shut?"</p> + +<p>They were. So much so that +not even Elliott opened his +mouth to say yes. They merely +nodded. Then again—for +the last time, he hoped!—Hilton +spoke his piece. The +response was prompt and +vigorous. Only Sam Bryant, +one of Hilton's staunchest allies, +showed any uncertainty +at all.</p> + +<p>"I've been married only a +year and a half, and the baby +was due about a month ago. +How sure are you that you +can make old Gordon sit still +for us skimming the cream off +of Terra to bring out here?"</p> + +<p>"Doris Bryant, the cream of +Terra!" Elliott gibed. "<i>How</i> +modest our Samuel has become!"</p> + +<p>"Well, damn it, she is!" +Bryant insisted.</p> + +<p>"Okay, she is," Hilton +agreed. "But either we get our +people or Terra doesn't get +its uranexite. That'll work. In +the remote contingency that +it doesn't, there are still tighter +screws we can put on. But +you missed the main snapper, +Sam. Suppose Doris doesn't +want to live for five thousand +years and is allergic to becoming +a monster?"</p> + +<p>"Huh; you don't need to +worry about that." Sam +brushed that argument aside +with a wave of his hand. +"Show me a girl who doesn't +want to stay young and beautiful +forever and I'll square +you the circle. Come on. +What's holding us up?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE <i>Orion</i> hurtled through +space back toward Ardry +and Hilton, struck by a sudden +thought, turned to the +captain.</p> + +<p>"Skipper, why wouldn't it +be a smart idea to clamp a +blockade onto Fuel Bin? Cut +the Stretts' fuel supply?"</p> + +<p>"I thought better of you +than that, son." Sawtelle +shook his head sadly. "That +was the first thing I did."</p> + +<p>"Ouch. Maybe you're 'way +ahead of me too, then, on the +one that we should move to +Fuel Bin, lock, stock and barrel?"</p> + +<p>"Never thought of it, no. +Maybe you're worth saving, +after all. After conversion, of +course.... Yes, there'd be +three big advantages."</p> + +<p>"Four."</p> + +<p>Sawtelle raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"One, only one planet to defend. +Two, it's self-defending +against sneak landings. Nothing +remotely human can land +on it except in heavy lead armor, +and even in that can stay +healthy for only a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Except in the city. Omlu. +That's the weak point and +would be the point of attack."</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh. Cut off the decontaminators +and in five hours +it'll be as hot as the rest of +the planet. Three, there'd be +no interstellar supply line for +the Stretts to cut. Four, the +environment matches our new +physiques a lot better than +any normal planet could."</p> + +<p>"That's the one I didn't +think about."</p> + +<p>"I think I'll take a quick +peek at the Stretts—oh-oh; +they've screened their whole +planet. Well, we can do that, +too, of course."</p> + +<p>"How are you going to select +and reject personnel? It +looks as though everybody +wants to stay. Even the men +whose main object in life is +to go aground and get drunk. +The Omans do altogether too +good a job on them and there's +no such thing as a hangover. +I'm glad I'm not in your +boots."</p> + +<p>"You may be in it up to the +eyeballs, Skipper, so don't +chortle too soon."</p> + +<p>Hilton had already devoted +much time to the problems of +selection; and he thought of +little else all the way back to +Ardry. And for several days +afterward he held conferences +with small groups and conducted +certain investigations.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">BUD Carroll of Sociology +and his assistant Sylvia +Banister had been married for +weeks. Hilton called them, together +with Sawtelle and Bryant +of Navy, into conference +with the Big Eight.</p> + +<p>"The more I study this +thing the less I like it," Hilton +said. "With a civilization +having no government, no police, +no laws, no medium of +exchange ..."</p> + +<p>"No <i>money</i>?" Bryant exclaimed. +"How's old Gordon +going to pay for his uranexite, +then?"</p> + +<p>"He gets it free," Hilton +replied, flatly. "When anyone +can have anything he wants, +merely by wanting it, what +good is money? Now, remembering +how long we're going +to have to live, what we'll be +up against, that the Masters +failed, and so on, it is clear +that the prime basic we have +to select for is stability. We +twelve have, by psychodynamic +measurement, the highest +stability ratings available."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure <i>I</i> belong +here?" Bryant asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Here are three lists." +Hilton passed papers around. +"The list labeled 'OK' names +those I'm sure of—the ones +we're converting now and +their wives and whatever on +Terra. List 'NG' names the +ones I know we don't want. +List 'X'—over thirty percent—are +in-betweeners. We have +to make a decision on the 'X' +list. So—what I want to know +is, who's going to play God. +I'm not. Sandy, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, no!" Sandra +shuddered. "But I'm +afraid I know who will have +to. I'm sorry, Alex, but it'll +have to be you four—Psychology +and Sociology."</p> + +<p>Six heads nodded and there +was a flashing interchange of +thought among the four. Temple +licked her lips and nodded, +and Kincaid spoke.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm afraid it's our +baby. By leaning very heavily +on Temple, we can do it. Remember, +Jarve, what you said +about the irresistible force? +We'll need it."</p> + +<p>"As I said once before, Mrs. +Hilton, I'm very glad you're +along," Hilton said. "But just +how sure are you that even +you can stand up under the +load?"</p> + +<p>"Alone, I couldn't. But +don't underestimate Mrs. Carroll +and the Messrs. Together, +and with such a goal, I'm sure +we can."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THUS, after four-fifths of +his own group and forty-one +Navy men had been converted, +Hilton called an evening +meeting of all the converts. +Larry, Tuly and Javvy +were the only Omans present.</p> + +<p>"You all knew, of course, +that we were going to move +to Fuel Bin sometime," Hilton +began. "I can tell you +now that we who are here are +all there are going to be of +us. We are all leaving for Fuel +Bin immediately after this +meeting. Everything of any +importance, including all of +your personal effects, has already +been moved. All Omans +except these three, and all +Oman ships except the <i>Orion</i>, +have already gone."</p> + +<p>He paused to let the news +sink in.</p> + +<p>Thoughts flew everywhere. +The irrepressible Stella Wing—<i>now</i> +Mrs. Osbert F. Harkins—was +the first to give +tongue. "What a <i>wonderful</i> +job! Why, everybody's here +that I really like at all!"</p> + +<p>That sentiment was, of +course, unanimous. It could +not have been otherwise. Betty, +the ex-Ames, called out:</p> + +<p>"How did you get their female +Omans away from Cecil +Calthorpe and the rest of that +chasing, booze-fighting bunch +without them blowing the +whole show?"</p> + +<p>"Some suasion was necessary," +Hilton admitted, with +a grin. "Everyone who isn't +here is time-locked into the +<i>Perseus</i>. Release time eight +hours tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"And they'll wake up tomorrow +morning with no +Omans?" Bernadine tossed +back her silvery mane and +laughed. "Nor anything else +except the <i>Perseus</i>? In a way, +I'm sorry, but ... maybe I've +got too much stinker blood in +me, but I'm very glad none +of them are here. But I'd like +to ask, Jarvis—or rather, I +suppose you have already set +up a new Advisory Board?"</p> + +<p>"We have, yes." Hilton read +off twelve names.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nice. I don't know of +any people I'd rather have on +it. But what I want to gripe +about is calling our new home +world such a horrible name as +'Fuel Bin,' as though it were +a wood-box or a coal-scuttle +or something. And just think +of the complexes it would set +up in those super-children +we're going to have so many +of."</p> + +<p>"What would you suggest?" +Hilton asked.</p> + +<p>"'Ardvor', of course," Hermione +said, before her sister +could answer. "We've had +'Arth' and 'Ardu' and 'Ardry' +and you—or somebody—started +calling us 'Ardans' to distinguish +us converts from the +Terrans. So let's keep up the +same line."</p> + +<p>There was general laughter +at that, but the name was approved.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">ABOUT midnight the meeting +ended and the <i>Orion</i> +set out for Ardvor. It +reached it and slanted sharply +downward. The whole BuSci +staff was in the lounge, watching +the big tri-di.</p> + +<p>"Hey! That isn't Omlu!" +Stella exclaimed. "It isn't a +city at all and it isn't even +in the same place!"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," Larry said. +"Most of you wanted the +ocean, but many wanted a river +or the mountains. Therefore +we razed Omlu and built +your new city, Ardane, at a +place where the ocean, two +rivers, and a range of mountains +meet. Strictly speaking, +it is not a city, but a place of +pleasant and rewardful living."</p> + +<p>The space-ship was coming +in, low and fast, from the +south. To the left, the west, +there stretched the limitless +expanse of ocean. To the +right, mile after mile, were +rough, rugged, jagged, partially-timbered +mountains, mass +piled upon mass. Immediately +below the speeding vessel was +a wide, white-sand beach all +of ten miles long.</p> + +<p>Slowing rapidly now, the +<i>Orion</i> flew along due north.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 359px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="359" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Look! Look! A natatorium!" +Beverly shrieked. "I +know I wanted a nice big +place to swim in, besides my +backyard pool and the ocean, +but I didn't tell anybody to +build <i>that</i>—I swear I didn't!"</p> + +<p>"You didn't have to, pet." +Poynter put his arm around +her curvaceous waist and +squeezed. "They knew. And I +did a little thinking along that +line myself. There's our +house, on top of the cliff over +the natatorium—you can almost +dive into it off the +patio."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wonderful!"</p> + +<p>Immediately north of the +natatorium a tremendous river—named +at first sight +the "Whitewater"—rushed +through its gorge into the +ocean; a river and gorge +strangely reminiscent of the +Colorado and its Grand Canyon. +On the south bank of +that river, at its very mouth—looking +straight up that tremendous +canyon; on a rocky +promontory commanding +ocean and beach and mountains—there +was a house. At +the sight of it Temple hugged +Hilton's arm in ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's ours," he assured +her. "Just about everything +either of us has ever +wanted." The clamor was now +so great—everyone was recognizing +his-and-her house and +was exclaiming about it—that +both Temple and Hilton fell +silent and simply watched the +scenery unroll.</p> + +<p>Across the turbulent Whitewater +and a mile farther +north, the mountains ended as +abruptly as though they had +been cut off with a cleaver +and an apparently limitless expanse +of treeless, grassy +prairie began. And through +that prairie, meandering sluggishly +to the ocean from the +northeast, came the wide, deep +River Placid.</p> + +<p>The <i>Orion</i> halted. It began +to descend vertically, and only +then did Hilton see the spaceport. +It was so vast, and there +were so many spaceships on it, +that from any great distance +it was actually invisible! Each +six-acre bit of the whole immense +expanse of level prairie +between the Placid and the +mountains held an Oman superdreadnought!</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE staff paired off and +headed for the airlocks. +Hilton said: "Temple, have +you any reservations at all, +however slight, as to having +Dark Lady as a permanent fixture +in your home?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course not—I +like her as much as you do. +And besides—" she giggled +like a schoolgirl—"even if she +<i>is</i> a lot more beautiful than I +am—I've got a few things she +never will have ... but there's +something else. I got just a +flash of it before you blocked. +Spill it, please."</p> + +<p>"You'll see in a minute." +And she did.</p> + +<p>Larry, Dark Lady and Temple's +Oman maid Moty were +standing beside the Hilton's +car—and so was another +Oman, like none ever before +seen. Six feet four; shoulders +that would just barely go +through a door; muscled like +Atlas and Hercules combined; +skin a gleaming, satiny +bronze; hair a rippling mass +of lambent flame. Temple +came to a full stop and caught +her breath.</p> + +<p>"The Prince," she breathed, +in awe. "Da Lormi's Prince +of Thebes. The ultimate +bronze of all the ages. <i>You</i> +did this, Jarve. How did you +ever dig him up out of my +schoolgirl crushes?"</p> + +<p>All six got into the car, +which was equally at home on +land or water or in the air. +In less than a minute they +were at Hilton House.</p> + +<p>The house itself was circular. +Its living-room was an immense +annulus of glass from +which, by merely moving +along its circular length, any +desired view could be had. +The pair walked around it +once. Then she took him by +the arm and steered him firmly +toward one of the bedrooms +in the center.</p> + +<p>"This house is just too +much to take in all at once," +she declared. "Besides, let's +put on our swimsuits and get +over to the Nat."</p> + +<p>In the room, she closed the +door firmly in the faces of the +Omans and grinned. "Maybe, +sometime, I'll get used to having +somebody besides you in +my bedroom, but I haven't, +yet.... Oh, do you itch, too?"</p> + +<p>Hilton had peeled to the +waist and was scratching vigorously +all around his waistline, +under his belt. "Like the +very devil," he admitted, and +stared at her. For she, three-quarters +stripped, was scratching, +too!</p> + +<p>"It started the minute we +left the <i>Orion</i>," he said, +thoughtfully. "I see. These +new skins of ours like hard +radiation, but don't like to be +smothered while they're enjoying +it. By about tomorrow, +we'll be a nudist colony, I +think."</p> + +<p>"I could stand it, I suppose. +What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I know about +radiation. Frank would be the +one to ask. My hunch is, +though, that we're going to be +nudists whether we want to +or not. Let's go."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THEY went in a two-seater, +leaving the Omans at home. +Three-quarters of the staff +were lolling on the sand or +were seated on benches beside +the immense pool. As they +watched, Beverly ran out +along the line of springboards; +testing each one and +selecting the stiffest. She then +climbed up to the top platform—a +good twelve feet +above the board—and plummeted +down upon the board's +heavily padded take-off. Legs +and back bending stubbornly +to take the strain, she and the +board reached low-point together, +and, still in sync with +it, she put every muscle she +had into the effort to hurl +herself upward.</p> + +<p>She had intended to go up +thirty feet. But she had no +idea whatever as to her present +strength, or of what that +Oman board, in perfect synchronization +with that tremendous +strength, would do. +Thus, instead of thirty feet, +she went up very nearly two +hundred; which of course +spoiled completely her proposed +graceful two-and-a-half.</p> + +<p>In midair she struggled +madly to get into some acceptable +position. Failing, she +curled up into a tight ball +just before she struck water.</p> + +<p><i>What</i> a splash!</p> + +<p>"It won't hurt her—you +couldn't hurt her with a +club!" Hilton snapped. He +seized Temple's hand as everyone +else rushed to the pool's +edge. "Look—Bernadine—that's +what I was thinking +about."</p> + +<p>Temple stopped and looked. +The platinum-haired twins +had been basking on the sand, +and wherever sand had +touched fabric, fabric had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Their suits had of course +approached the minimum to +start with. Now Bernadine +wore only a wisp of nylon +perched precariously on one +breast and part of a ribbon +that had once been a belt. Discovering +the catastrophe, she +shrieked once and leaped into +the pool any-which-way, covering +her breasts with her +hands and hiding in water up +to her neck.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the involuntarily +high diver had come to the +surface, laughing apologetically. +Surprised by the hair dangling +down over her eyes, she +felt for her cap. It was gone. +So was her suit. Naked as a +fish. She swam a couple of +easy strokes, then stopped.</p> + +<p>"Frank! Oh, Frank!" she +called.</p> + +<p>"Over here, Bev." Her husband +did not quite know +whether to laugh or not.</p> + +<p>"Is it the radiation or the +water? Or both?"</p> + +<p>"Radiation, I think. These +new skins of ours don't want +to be covered up. But it probably +makes the water a pretty +good imitation of a universal +solvent."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, clothes!" Beverly +rolled over onto her back, +fanned water carefully with +her hands, and gazed approvingly +at herself. "I don't itch +any more, anyway, so I'm very +much in favor of it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THUS the Ardans came to +their new home world and +to a life that was to be more +comfortable by far and happier +by far than any of them +had known on Earth. There +were many other surprises +that day, of course; of which +only two will be mentioned +here. When they finally left +the pool, at about seventeen +hours G.M.T.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>, everybody +was ravenously hungry.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Greenwich Mean Time. Ardvor +was, always and everywhere, full +daylight. Terran time and calendar +were adapted as a matter of +course.</p></div> + +<p>"But why <i>should</i> we be?" +Stella demanded. "I've been +eating everything in sight, +just for fun. But now I'm actually +hungry enough to eat a +horse and wagon and chase +the driver!"</p> + +<p>"Swimming makes everybody +hungry," Beverly said, +"and I'm awfully glad <i>that</i> +hasn't changed. Why, I +wouldn't feel <i>human</i> if I +didn't!"</p> + +<p>Hilton and Temple went +home, and had a long-drawn-out +and very wonderful supper. +Prince waited on Temple, +Dark Lady on Hilton; +Larry and Moty ran the synthesizers +in the kitchen. All +four Omans radiated happiness.</p> + +<p>Another surprise came +when they went to bed. For +the bed was a raised platform +of something that looked like +concrete and, except for an +uncanny property of molding +itself somewhat to the contours +of their bodies, was almost +as hard as rock. Nevertheless, +it was the most comfortable +bed either of them +had ever had. When they +were ready to go to sleep, +Temple said:</p> + +<p>"Drat it, those Omans <i>still</i> +want to come in and sleep +with us. In the room, I mean. +And they suffer so. They're +simply <i>radiating</i> silent suffering +and oh-so-submissive +reproach. Shall we let 'em +come in?"</p> + +<p>"That's strictly up to you, +sweetheart. It always has +been."</p> + +<p>"I know. I thought they'd +quit it sometime, but I guess +they never will. I <i>still</i> want +an illusion of privacy at +times, even though they know +all about everything that +goes on. But we might let 'em +in now, just while we sleep, +and throw 'em out again as +soon as we wake up in the +morning?"</p> + +<p>"You're the boss." Without +additional invitation the four +Omans came in and arranged +themselves neatly on the +floor, on all four sides of the +bed. Temple had barely time +to cuddle up against Hilton, +and he to put his arm closely +around her, before they both +dropped into profound and +dreamless sleep.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AT eight hours next morning +all the specialists met +at the new Hall of Records.</p> + +<p>This building, an exact duplicate +of the old one, was located +on a mesa in the foothills +southwest of the natatorium, +in a luxuriant grove +at sight of which Karns +stopped and began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd seen everything," +he remarked. "But +yellow pine, spruce, tamarack, +apples, oaks, palms, oranges, +cedars, joshua trees +and <i>cactus</i>—just to name a +few—all growing on the same +quarter-section of land?"</p> + +<p>"Just everything anybody +wants, is all," Hilton said. +"But are they really growing? +Or just straight synthetics? +Lane—Kathy—this +is your dish."</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, Jarve; give +us a chance, <i>please</i>!" Kathryn, +now Mrs. Lane Saunders, +pleaded. She shook her spectacular +head. "We don't see +how any stable indigenous +life can have developed at all, +unless ..."</p> + +<p>"Unless what? Natural +shielding?" Hilton asked, and +Kathy eyed her husband.</p> + +<p>"Right," Saunders said. +"The earliest life-forms must +have developed a shield before +they could evolve and +stabilize. Hence, whatever it +is that is in our skins was not +a triumph of Masters' science. +They took it from Nature."</p> + +<p>"Oh? Oh!" These were two +of Sandra's most expressive +monosyllables, followed by a +third. "Oh. Could be, at that. +But how <i>could</i> ... no, cancel +that."</p> + +<p>"You'd better cancel it, +Sandy. Give us a couple of +months, and <i>maybe</i> we can +answer a few elementary +questions."</p> + +<p>Now inside the Hall, all +the teams, from Astronomy to +Zoology, went efficiently to +work. Everyone now knew +what to look for, how to find +it, and how to study it.</p> + +<p>"The First Team doesn't +need you now too much, does +it, Jarve?" Sawtelle asked.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. In fact, +I was just going to get back +onto my own job."</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I want to talk to +you," and the two went into a +long discussion of naval affairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XI</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE Stretts' fuel-supply +line had been cut long +since. Many Strett cargo-carriers +had been destroyed. +The enemy would of course +have a very heavy reserve of +fuel on hand. But there was +no way of knowing how +large it was, how many warships +it could supply, or how +long it would last.</p> + +<p>Two facts were, however, +unquestionable. First, the +Stretts were building a fleet +that in their minds would be +invincible. Second, they +would attack Ardane as soon +as that fleet could be made +ready. The unanswerable +question was: how long +would that take?</p> + +<p>"So we want to get every +ship we have. How many? +Five thousand? Ten? Fifteen? +We want them converted +to maximum possible power +as soon as we possibly +can," Sawtelle said. "And I +want to get out there with +my boys to handle things."</p> + +<p>"You aren't going to. Neither +you nor your boys +are expendable. Particularly +you." Jaw hard-set, Hilton +studied the situation for +minutes. "No. What we'll do +is take your Oman, Kedy. +We'll re-set the Guide to +drive into him everything +you and the military Masters +ever knew about arms, armament, +strategy, tactics and so +on. And we'll add everything +I know of coordination, synthesis, +and perception. That +ought to make him at least +a junior-grade military genius."</p> + +<p>"You can play <i>that</i> in +spades. I wish you could do +it to me."</p> + +<p>"I can—if you'll take +the full Oman transformation. +Nothing else can stand +the punishment."</p> + +<p>"I know. No, I don't want +to be a genius that badly."</p> + +<p>"Check. And we'll take the +resultant Kedy and make +nine duplicates of him. Each +one will learn from and profit +by the mistakes made by +preceding numbers and will +assume command the instant +his preceding number is +killed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you expect, then...?"</p> + +<p>"Expect? No. I know it +damn well, and so do you. +That's why we Ardans will +all stay aground. Why the +Kedys' first job will be to +make the heavy stuff in and +around Ardane as heavy as it +can be made. Why it'll all be +on twenty-four-hour alert. +Then they can put as +many thousands of Omans as +you please to work at modernizing +all the Oman ships +you want and doing anything +else you say. Check?"</p> + +<p>Sawtelle thought for a +couple of minutes. "A few +details, is all. But that can be +ironed out as we go along."</p> + +<p>Both men worked then, almost +unremittingly for six +solid days; at the end of +which time both drew tremendous +sighs of relief. +They had done everything +possible for them to do. The +defense of Ardvor was now +rolling at fullest speed toward +its gigantic objective.</p> + +<p>Then captain and director, +in two Oman ships with fifty +men and a thousand Omans, +leaped the world-girdling +ocean to the mining operation +of the Stretts. There +they found business strictly +as usual. The strippers still +stripped; the mining mechs +still roared and snarled their +inchwise ways along their +geometrically perfect terraces; +the little carriers still +skittered busily between the +various miners and the storage +silos. The fact that there +was enough concentrate on +hand to last a world for a +hundred years made no difference +at all to these automatics; +a crew of erector-mechs +was building new silos +as fast as existing ones were +being filled.</p> + +<p>Since the men now understood +everything that was going +on, it was a simple matter +for them to stop the whole +Strett operation in its tracks. +Then every man and every +Oman leaped to his assigned +job. Three days later, all the +mechs went back to work. +Now, however, they were +working for the Ardans.</p> + +<p>The miners, instead of +concentrate, now emitted +vastly larger streams of +Navy-Standard pelleted uranexite. +The carriers, instead +of one-gallon cans, carried +five-ton drums. The silos +were immensely larger—thirty +feet in diameter and +towering two hundred feet +into the air. The silos were +not, however, being used as +yet. One of the two Oman +ships had been converted into +a fuel-tanker and its yawning +holds were being filled first.</p> + +<p>The <i>Orion</i> went back to +Ardane and an eight-day wait +began. For the first time in +over seven months Hilton +found time actually to loaf; +and he and Temple, lolling +on the beach or hiking in the +mountains, enjoyed themselves +and each other to the +full.</p> + +<p>All too soon, however, the +heavily laden tanker appeared +in the sky over Ardane. +The <i>Orion</i> joined it; +and the two ships slipped into +sub-space for Earth.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THREE days out, Hilton +used his sense of perception +to release the thought-controlled +blocks that had +been holding all the controls +of the <i>Perseus</i> in neutral. He +informed her officers—by releasing +a public-address tape—that +they were now free to +return to Terra.</p> + +<p>Three days later, one day +short of Sol, Sawtelle got +Five-Jet Admiral Gordon's +office on the sub-space radio. +An officious underling tried +to block him, of course.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Perkins, and listen," +Sawtelle said, bruskly. +"Tell Gordon I'm bringing in +one hundred twenty thousand +two hundred forty-five metric +tons of pelleted uranexite. +And if he isn't on this +beam in sixty seconds he'll +never get a gram of it."</p> + +<p>The admiral, outraged almost +to the point of apoplexy, +came in. "Sawtelle, report +yourself for court-martial +at ..."</p> + +<p>"Keep still, Gordon," the +captain snapped. In sheer astonishment +old Five-Jets +obeyed. "I am no longer Terran +Navy; no longer subject +to your orders. As a matter +of cold fact, I am no longer +human. For reasons which I +will explain later to the full +Advisory Board, some of the +personnel of Project Theta +Orionis underwent transformation +into a form of life +able to live in an environment +of radioactivity so intense as +to kill any human being in +ten seconds. Under certain +conditions we will supply, +free of charge, FOB Terra +or Luna, all the uranexite the +Solar System can use. The +conditions are these," and he +gave them. "Do you accept +these conditions or not?"</p> + +<p>"I ... I would vote to accept +them, Captain. But that +weight! One hundred twenty +thousand <i>metric tons</i>—incredible! +Are you <i>sure</i> of +that figure?"</p> + +<p>"Definitely. And that is +minimum. The error is plus, +not minus."</p> + +<p>"This crippling power-shortage +would really be +over?" For the first time +since Sawtelle had known +him, Gordon showed that he +was not quite solid Navy +brass.</p> + +<p>"It's over. Definitely. For +good."</p> + +<p>"I'd not only agree; I'd +raise you a monument. While +I can't speak for the Board, +I'm sure they'll agree."</p> + +<p>"So am I. In any event, +your cooperation is all that's +required for this first load." +The chips had vanished from +Sawtelle's shoulders. "Where +do you want it, Admiral? +Aristarchus or White +Sands?"</p> + +<p>"White Sands, please. +While there may be some delay +in releasing it to industry ..."</p> + +<p>"While they figure out +how much they can tax it?" +Sawtelle asked, sardonically.</p> + +<p>"Well, if they don't tax it +it'll be the first thing in history +that isn't. Have you any +objections to releasing all this +to the press?"</p> + +<p>"None at all. The harder +they hit it and the wider they +spread it, the better. Will you +have this beam switched to +Astrogation, please?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. And thanks, +Captain. I'll see you at White +Sands."</p> + +<p>Then, as the now positively +glowing Gordon faded away, +Sawtelle turned to his own +staff. "Fenway—Snowden—take +over. Better double-check +micro-timing with Astro. +Put us into a twenty-four-hour +orbit over White +Sands and hold us there. We +won't go down. Let the load +down on remote, wherever +they want it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE arrival of the Ardvorian +superdreadnought <i>Orion</i> +and the <i>UC-1</i> (Uranexite +Carrier Number One) was +one of the most sensational +events old Earth had ever +known. Air and space craft +went clear out to Emergence +Volume Ninety to meet them. +By the time the <i>UC-1</i> was +coming in on its remote-controlled +landing spiral the +press of small ships was so +great that all the police forces +available were in a lather +trying to control it.</p> + +<p>This was exactly what Hilton +had wanted. It made possible +the completely unobserved +launching of several +dozen small craft from the +<i>Orion</i> herself.</p> + +<p>One of these made a very +high and very fast flight to +Chicago. With all due formality +and under the aegis of +a perfectly authentic Registry +Number it landed on +O'Hare Field. Eleven deeply +tanned young men emerged +from it and made their way +to a taxi stand, where each +engaged a separate vehicle.</p> + +<p>Sam Bryant stepped into +his cab, gave the driver a +number on Oakwood Avenue +in Des Plaines, and settled +back to scan. He was lucky. +He would have gone anywhere +she was, of course, but +the way things were, he could +give her a little warning to +soften the shock. She had +taken the baby out for an airing +down River Road, and +was on her way back. By having +the taxi kill ten minutes +or so he could arrive just after +she did. Wherefore he +stopped the cab at a public +communications booth and +dialed his home.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bryant is not at +home, but she will return at +fifteen thirty," the instrument +said, crisply. "Would +you care to record a message +for her?"</p> + +<p>He punched the RECORD +button. "This is Sam, Dolly +baby. I'm right behind you. +Turn around, why don't you, +and tell your ever-lovin' star-hoppin' +husband hello?"</p> + +<p>The taxi pulled up at the +curb just as Doris closed the +front door; and Sam, after +handing the driver a five-dollar +bill, ran up the walk.</p> + +<p>He waited just outside the +door, key in hand, while she +lowered the stroller handle, +took off her hat and by long-established +habit reached out +to flip the communicator's +switch. At the first word, +however, she stiffened rigidly—froze +solid.</p> + +<p>Smiling, he opened the +door, walked in, and closed it +behind him. Nothing short of +a shotgun blast could have +taken Doris Bryant's attention +from that recorder then.</p> + +<p>"That simply is not so," she +told the instrument firmly, +with both eyes resolutely +shut. "They made him stay on +the <i>Perseus</i>. He won't be in +for at least three days. This +is some cretin's idea of a +joke."</p> + +<p>"Not this time, Dolly honey. +It's really me."</p> + +<p>Her eyes popped open as +she whirled. "SAM!" she +shrieked, and hurled herself +at him with all the pent-up +ardor and longing of two +hundred thirty-four meticulously +counted, husbandless, +loveless days.</p> + +<p>After an unknown length +of time Sam tipped her face +up by the chin, nodded at the +stroller, and said, "How about +introducing me to the little +stranger?"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> a mother I turned +out to be! That was the first +thing I was going to rave +about, the very first thing I +saw you! Samuel Jay the +Fourth, seventy-six days old +today." And so on.</p> + +<p>Eventually, however, the +proud young mother watched +the slightly apprehensive +young father carry their +first-born upstairs; where together, +they put him—still +sound asleep—to bed in his +crib. Then again they were in +each other's arms.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">SOME time later, she twisted +around in the circle of +his arm and tried to dig her +fingers into the muscles of +his back. She then attacked +his biceps and, leaning backward, +eyed him intently.</p> + +<p>"You're you, I know, but +you're different. No athlete +or any laborer could ever +possibly get the muscles you +have all over. To say nothing +of a space officer on duty. +And I know it isn't any kind +of a disease. You've been acting +all the time as though I +were fragile, made out of +glass or something—as +though you were afraid of +breaking me in two. So—what +is it, sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"I've been trying to figure +out an easy way of telling +you, but there isn't any. I am +different. I'm a hundred +times as strong as any man +ever was. Look." He upended +a chair, took one heavy hardwood +leg between finger and +thumb and made what looked +like a gentle effort to bend +it. The leg broke with a pistol-sharp +report and Doris +leaped backward in surprise. +"So you're right. I <i>am</i> afraid, +not only of breaking you in +two, but killing you. And if I +break any of your ribs or +arms or legs I'll never forgive +myself. So if I let myself go +for a second—I don't think I +will, but I might—don't wait +until you're really hurt to +start screaming. Promise?"</p> + +<p>"I promise." Her eyes went +wide. "But <i>tell</i> me!"</p> + +<p>He told her. She was in +turn surprised, amazed, apprehensive, +frightened and +finally eager; and she became +more and more eager +right up to the end.</p> + +<p>"You mean that we ... that +I'll stay just as I am—for +thousands of <i>years</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you are. Or different, +if you like. If you really +mean any of this yelling +you've been doing about being +too big in the hips—I +think you're exactly right, +myself—you can rebuild +yourself any way you please. +Or change your shape every +hour on the hour. But you +haven't accepted my invitation +yet."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly." She went +into his arms again and nibbled +on his left ear. "I'd go +anywhere with you, of course, +any time, but <i>this</i>—but you're +positively <i>sure</i> Sammy Small +will be all right?"</p> + +<p>"Positively sure."</p> + +<p>"Okay, I'll call mother...." +Her face fell. "I <i>can't</i> tell her +that we'll never see them +again and that we'll live ..."</p> + +<p>"You don't need to. She +and Pop—Fern and Sally, +too, and their boy-friends—are +on the list. Not this time, +but in a month or so, probably."</p> + +<p>Doris brightened like a +sunburst. "And your folks, +too, of course?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all the close ones."</p> + +<p>"Marvelous! How soon are +we leaving?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">AT six o'clock next morning, +two hundred thirty-five +days after leaving Earth, +Hilton and Sawtelle set out +to make the Ardans' official +call upon Terra's Advisory +Board. Both were wearing +prodigiously heavy lead armor, +the inside of which was +furiously radioactive. They +did not need it, of course. But +it would make all Ardans +monstrous in Terran eyes +and would conceal the fact +that any other Ardans were +landing.</p> + +<p>Their gig was met at the +spaceport; not by a limousine, +but by a five-ton truck, +into which they were loaded +one at a time by a hydraulic +lift. Cameras clicked, reporters +scurried, and tri-di scanners +whirred. One of those +scanners, both men knew, +was reporting directly and +only to the Advisory Board—which, +of course, never +took anything either for +granted or at its face value.</p> + +<p>Their first stop was at a +truck-scale, where each visitor +was weighed. Hilton tipped +the beam at four thousand six +hundred fifteen pounds; +Sawtelle, a smaller man, +weighed in at four thousand +one hundred ninety. Thence +to the Radiation Laboratory, +where it was ascertained and +reported that the armor did +not leak—which was reasonable +enough, since each was +lined with Masters' plastics.</p> + +<p>Then into lead-lined testing +cells, where each opened +his face-plate briefly to a +sensing element. Whereupon +the indicating needles of two +meters in the main laboratory +went enthusiastically through +the full range of red and +held unwaveringly against +their stops.</p> + +<p>Both Ardans felt the wave +of shocked, astonished, almost +unbelieving consternation +that swept through the +observing scientists and, in +slightly lesser measure (because +they knew less about +radiation) through the Advisory +Board itself in a big +room halfway across town. +And from the Radiation Laboratory +they were taken, via +truck and freight elevator, to +the Office of the Commandant, +where the Board was sitting.</p> + +<p>The story, which had been +sent in to the Board the day +before on a scrambled beam, +was one upon which the Ardans +had labored for days. +Many facts could be withheld. +However, every man +aboard the <i>Perseus</i> would +agree on some things. Indeed, +the Earthship's communications +officers had undoubtedly +radioed in already about +longevity and perfect health +and Oman service and many +other matters. Hence all such +things would have to be admitted +and countered.</p> + +<p>Thus the report, while it +was air-tight, perfectly logical, +perfectly consistent, and +apparently complete, did not +please the Board at all. It +wasn't intended to.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"WE cannot and do not +approve of such unwarranted +favoritism," the +Chairman of the Board said. +"Longevity has always been +man's prime goal. Every human +being has the inalienable +right to ..."</p> + +<p>"Flapdoodle!" Hilton snorted. +"This is not being broadcast +and this room is proofed, +so please climb down off your +soapbox. You don't need to +talk like a politician here. +Didn't you read paragraph +12-A-2, one of the many +marked 'Top Secret'?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. But we do not +understand how purely mental +qualities can possibly have +any effect upon purely physical +transformations. Thus it +does not seem reasonable that +any except rigorously +screened personnel would die +in the process. That is, of +course, unless you contemplate +deliberate, cold-blooded +murder."</p> + +<p>That stopped Hilton in his +tracks, for it was too close for +comfort to the truth. But it +did not hold the captain for +an instant. He was used to +death, in many of its grisliest +forms.</p> + +<p>"There are a lot of things +no Terran ever will understand," +Sawtelle replied instantly. +"Reasonable, or not, +that's exactly what will happen. +And, reasonable or not, +it'll be suicide, not murder. +There isn't a thing that either +Hilton or I can do about it."</p> + +<p>Hilton broke the ensuing +silence. "You can say with +equal truth that every human +being has the <i>right</i> to run a +four-minute mile or to compose +a great symphony. It +isn't a matter of right at all, +but of ability. In this case the +mental qualities are even +more necessary than the +physical. You as a Board did +a very fine job of selecting +the BuSci personnel for Project +Theta Orionis. Almost +eighty per cent of them +proved able to withstand the +Ardan conversion. On the +other hand, only a very small +percentage of the Navy personnel +did so."</p> + +<p>"Your report said that the +remaining personnel of the +Project were not informed as +to the death aspect of the +transformation," Admiral +Gordon said. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"That should be self-explanatory," +Hilton said, flatly. +"They are still human and +still Terrans. We did not and +will not encroach upon either +the duties or the privileges of +Terra's Advisory Board. +What you tell all Terrans, +and how much, and how, must +be decided by yourselves. +This also applies, of course, +to the other 'Top Secret' +paragraphs of the report, +none of which are known to +any Terran outside the +Board."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't said anything +about the method of selection," +another Advisor +complained. "Why, that will +take all the psychologists of +the world, working full time; +continuously."</p> + +<p>"We said we would do the +selecting. We meant just +that," Hilton said, coldly. +"No one except the very few +selectees will know anything +about it. Even if it were an +unmixed blessing—which it +very definitely is <i>not</i>—do you +want all humanity thrown +into such an uproar as that +would cause? Or the quite +possible racial inferiority +complex it might set up? To +say nothing of the question +of how much of Terra's best +blood do you want to drain +off, irreversibly and permanently? +No. What we suggest +is that you paint the picture +so black, using Sawtelle and +me and what all humanity +has just seen as horrible examples, +that nobody would +take it as a gift. Make them +shun it like the plague. Hell, +I don't have to tell you what +your propaganda machines +can do."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE Chairman of the +Board again mounted his +invisible rostrum. "Do you +mean to intimate that we are +to falsify the record?" he declaimed. +"To try to make liars +out of hundreds of eyewitnesses? +You ask us to distort +the truth, to connive at ..."</p> + +<p>"We aren't asking you to +do <i>anything</i>!" Hilton +snapped. "We don't give a +damn what you do. Just study +that record, with all that it +implies. Read between the +lines. As for those on the +<i>Perseus</i>, no two of them will +tell the same story and not +one of them has even the remotest +idea of what the real +story is. I, personally, not +only did not want to become +a monster, but would have +given everything I had to +stay human. My wife felt the +same way. Neither of us +would have converted if +there'd been any other way +in God's universe of getting +the uranexite and doing some +other things that simply <i>must</i> +be done."</p> + +<p>"What other things?" Gordon +demanded.</p> + +<p>"You'll never know," Hilton +answered, quietly. +"Things no Terran ever will +know. We hope. Things that +would drive any Terran stark +mad. Some of them are hinted +at—as much as we dared—between +the lines of the report."</p> + +<p>The report had not mentioned +the Stretts. Nor were +they to be mentioned now. If +the Ardans could stop them, +no Terran need ever know +anything about them.</p> + +<p>If not, no Terran should +know anything about them +except what he would learn +for himself just before the +end. For Terra would never +be able to do anything to defend +herself against the +Stretts.</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever can +drive <i>me</i> mad," Gordon declared, +"and I want to know +all about it—right now!"</p> + +<p>"You can do one of two +things, Gordon," Sawtelle +said in disgust. His sneer was +plainly visible through the +six-ply, plastic-backed lead +glass of his face-plate. "Either +shut up or accept my +personal invitation to come to +Ardvor and try to go through +the wringer. That's an invitation +to your own funeral." +Five-Jet Admiral Gordon, +torn inwardly to ribbons, +made no reply.</p> + +<p>"I repeat," Hilton went on, +"we are not asking you to do +anything whatever. We are +offering to give you; free of +charge but under certain conditions, +all the power your +humanity can possibly use. +We set no limitation whatever +as to quantity and with +no foreseeable limit as to +time. The only point at issue +is whether or not you accept +the conditions. If you do not +accept them we'll leave now—and +the offer will not be repeated."</p> + +<p>"And you would, I presume, +take the <i>UC-1</i> back +with you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not, sir. Terra +needs power too badly. You +are perfectly welcome to that +one load of uranexite, no +matter what is decided here."</p> + +<p>"That's one way of putting +it," Gordon sneered. "But the +truth is that you know +damned well I'll blow both of +your ships out of space if you +so much as ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, chip-chop the jaw-flapping, +Gordon!" Hilton +snapped. Then, as the admiral +began to bellow orders +into his microphone, he went +on: "You want it the hard +way, eh? Watch what happens, +all of you!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE <i>UC-1</i> shot vertically +into the air. Through its +shallow dense layer and into +and through the stratosphere. +Earth's fleet, already on full +alert and poised to strike, +rushed to the attack. But the +carrier had reached the <i>Orion</i> +and both Ardvorian ships had +been waiting, motionless, for +a good half minute before the +Terran warships arrived and +began to blast with everything +they had.</p> + +<p>"Flashlights and firecrackers," +Sawtelle said, calmly. +"You aren't even warming up +our screens. As soon as you +quit making a damned fool of +yourself by wasting energy +that way, we'll set the <i>UC-1</i> +back down where she was +and get on with our business +here."</p> + +<p>"You will order a cease-fire +at once, Admiral," the chairman +said, "or the rest of us +will, as of now, remove you +from the Board." Gordon +gritted his teeth in rage, but +gave the order.</p> + +<p>"If he hasn't had enough +yet to convince him," Hilton +suggested, "he might send up +a drone. We don't want to +kill anybody, you know. One +with the heaviest screening +he's got—just to see what +happens to it."</p> + +<p>"He's had enough. The rest +of us have had more than +enough. That exhibition was +not only uncalled-for and +disgusting—it was outrageous!"</p> + +<p>The meeting settled down, +then, from argument to constructive +discussion, and +many topics were gone over. +Certain matters were, however, +so self-evident that they +were not even mentioned.</p> + +<p>Thus, it was a self-evident +fact that no Terran could ever +visit Ardvor; for the instrument-readings +agreed with +the report's statements as to +the violence of the Ardvorian +environment, and no Terran +could possibly walk around in +two tons of lead. Conversely, +it was self-apparent to the +Terrans that no Ardan could +ever visit Earth without being +recognized instantly for +what he was. Wearing such +armor made its necessity +starkly plain. No one from +the <i>Perseus</i> could say that +any Ardan, after having lived +on the furiously radiant surface +of Ardvor, would not be +as furiously radioactive as +the laboratory's calibrated instruments +had shown Hilton +and Sawtelle actually to be.</p> + +<p>Wherefore the conference +went on, quietly and cooperatively, +to its planned end.</p> + +<p>One minute after the Terran +battleship <i>Perseus</i> +emerged into normal space, +the <i>Orion</i> went into sub-space +for her long trip back +to Ardvor.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE last two days of that +seven-day trip were the +longest-seeming that either +Hilton or Sawtelle had ever +known. The sub-space radio +was on continuously and +Kedy-One reported to Sawtelle +every five minutes. +Even though Hilton knew +that the Oman commander-in-chief +was exactly as good +at perceiving as he himself +was, he found himself scanning +the thoroughly screened +Strett world forty or fifty +times an hour.</p> + +<p>However, in spite of worry +and apprehension, time wore +eventlessly on. The <i>Orion</i> +emerged, went to Ardvor and +landed on Ardane Field.</p> + +<p>Hilton, after greeting properly +and reporting to his +wife, went to his office. +There he found that Sandra +had everything well in hand +except for a few tapes that +only he could handle. Sawtelle +and his officers went to +the new Command Central, +where everything was rolling +smoothly and very much faster +than Sawtelle had dared +hope.</p> + +<p>The Terran immigrants had +to live in the <i>Orion</i>, of +course, until conversion into +Ardans. Almost equally of +course—since the Bryant infant +was the only young baby +in the lot—Doris and her +Sammy Small were, by popular +acclaim, in the first batch +to be converted. For little +Sammy had taken the entire +feminine contingent by +storm. No Oman female had +a chance to act as nurse as +long as any of the girls were +around. Which was practically +all the time. Especially +the platinum-blonde twins; +for several months, now, Bernadine +Braden and Hermione +Felger.</p> + +<p>"And you said they were so +hard-boiled," Doris said accusingly +to Sam, nodding at +the twins. On hands and +knees on the floor, head to +head with Sammy Small between +them, they were growling +deep-throated at each +other and nuzzling at the +baby, who was having the +time of his young life. "You +couldn't have been any +wronger, my sweet, if you'd +had the whole Octagon helping +you go astray. They're +just as nice as they can be, +both of them."</p> + +<p>Sam shrugged and grinned. +His wife strode purposefully +across the room to the playful +pair and lifted their pretended +prey out from between +them.</p> + +<p>"Quit it, you two," she directed, +swinging the baby up +and depositing him a-straddle +her left hip. "You're just +simply spoiling him rotten."</p> + +<p>"You think so, Dolly? Uh-uh, +far be it from such." Bernadine +came lithely to her +feet. She glanced at her own +taut, trim abdomen; upon +which a micrometrically-precise +topographical mapping +job might have revealed an +otherwise imperceptible bulge. +"Just you wait until Junior +arrives and I'll show you +how to <i>really</i> spoil a baby. +Besides, what's the hurry?"</p> + +<p>"He needs his supper. Vitamins +and minerals and hard +radiations and things, and +then he's going to bed. I don't +approve of this no-sleep business. +So run along, both of +you, until tomorrow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XII</h2> + + +<p class="cap">AS has been said, the +Stretts were working, +with all the intensity of their +monstrous but tremendously +capable minds, upon their +Great Plan; which was, basically, +to conquer and either +enslave or destroy every other +intelligent race throughout +all the length, breadth, +and thickness of total space. +To that end each individual +Strett had to become invulnerable +and immortal.</p> + +<p>Wherefore, in the inconceivably +remote past, there +had been put into effect a +program of selective breeding +and of carefully-calculated +treatments. It was mathematically +certain that this program +would result in a race +of beings of pure force—beings +having no material constituents +remaining whatever.</p> + +<p>Under those hellish treatments +billions upon billions of +Stretts had died. But the few +remaining thousands had almost +reached their sublime +goal. In a few more hundreds +of thousands of years perfection +would be reached. The +few surviving hundreds of +perfect beings could and +would multiply to any desired +number in practically no +time at all.</p> + +<p>Hilton and his seven fellow-workers +had perceived all +this in their one and only +study of the planet Strett, +and every other Ardan had +been completely informed.</p> + +<p>A dozen or so Strett Lords +of Thought, male and female, +were floating about in the atmosphere—which +was not air—of +their Assembly Hall. +Their heads were globes of +ball lightning. Inside them +could be seen quite plainly +the intricate convolutions of +immense, less-than-half-material +brains, shot through +and through with rods and +pencils and shapes of pure, +scintillating force.</p> + +<p>And the bodies! Or, rather, +each horrendous brain had a +few partially material appendages +and appurtenances +recognizable as bodily organs. +There were no mouths, +no ears, no eyes, no noses or +nostrils, no lungs, no legs or +arms. There were, however, +hearts. Some partially material +ichor flowed through those +living-fire-outlined tubes. +There were starkly functional +organs of reproduction +with which, by no stretch of +the imagination, could any +thought of tenderness or of +love be connected.</p> + +<p>It was a good thing for the +race, Hilton had thought at +first perception of the things, +that the Stretts had bred out +of themselves every iota of +the finer, higher attributes of +life. If they had not done so, +the impotence of sheer disgust +would have supervened so +long since that the race would +have been extinct for ages.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-eight periods ago +the Great Brain was charged +with the sum total of Strettsian +knowledge," First Lord +Thinker Zoyar radiated to the +assembled Stretts. "For those +thirty-eight periods it has +been scanning, peyondiring, +amassing data and formulating +hypotheses, theories, and +conclusions. It has just informed +me that it is now +ready to make a preliminary +report. Great Brain, how +much of the total universe +have you studied?"</p> + +<p>"This Galaxy only," the +Brain radiated, in a texture +of thought as hard and as +harsh as Zoyar's own.</p> + +<p>"Why not more?"</p> + +<p>"Insufficient power. My +first conclusion is that whoever +set up the specifications +for me is a fool."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">TO say that the First Lord +went out of control at this +statement is to put it very +mildly indeed. He fulminated, +ending with: "... destroyed +instantly!"</p> + +<p>"Destroy me if you like," +came the utterly calm, utterly +cold reply. "I am in no +sense alive. I have no consciousness +of self nor any desire +for continued existence. +To do so, however, would ..."</p> + +<p>A flurry of activity interrupted +the thought. Zoyar +was in fact assembling the +forces to destroy the brain. +But, before he could act, +Second Lord Thinker Ynos +and another female blew him +into a mixture of loose molecules +and flaring energies.</p> + +<p>"Destruction of any and all +irrational minds is mandatory," +Ynos, now First Lord +Thinker, explained to the +linked minds. "Zoyar had +been becoming less and less +rational by the period. A good +workman does not causelessly +destroy his tools. Go +ahead, Great Brain, with your +findings."</p> + +<p>"... not be logical." The +brain resumed the thought +exactly where it had been +broken off. "Zoyar erred in +demanding unlimited performance, +since infinite +knowledge and infinite ability +require not only infinite +capacity and infinite power, +but also infinite time. Nor is +it either necessary or desirable +that I should have such +qualities. There is no reasonable +basis for the assumption +that you Stretts will conquer +any significant number even +of the millions of intelligent +races now inhabiting this one +Galaxy."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Ynos demanded, +her thought almost, but +not quite, as steady and cold +as it had been.</p> + +<p>"The answer to that question +is implicit in the second +indefensible error made in my +construction. The prime datum +impressed into my banks, +that the Stretts are in fact +the strongest, ablest, most intelligent +race in the universe, +proved to be false. I had to +eliminate it before I could do +any really constructive thinking."</p> + +<p>A roar of condemnatory +thought brought all circumambient +ether to a boil. "Bah—destroy +it!" "Detestable!" +"Intolerable!" "If that is the +best it can do, annihilate it!" +"Far better brains have been +destroyed for much less!" +"Treason!" And so on.</p> + +<p>First Lord Thinker Ynos, +however, remained relatively +calm. "While we have always +held it to be a fact that we +are the highest race in existence, +no rigorous proof has +been possible. Can you now +disprove that assumption?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I HAVE disproved it. I have +not had time to study all +of the civilizations of this +Galaxy, but I have examined +a statistically adequate sample +of one million seven hundred +ninety-two thousand four +hundred sixteen different +planetary intelligences. I +found one which is considerably +abler and more advanced +than you Stretts. Therefore +the probability is greater +than point nine nine that +there are not less than ten, +and not more than two hundred +eight, such races in this +Galaxy alone."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" Another +wave of incredulous and +threatening anger swept +through the linked minds; a +wave which Ynos flattened +out with some difficulty.</p> + +<p>Then she asked: "Is it +probable that we will make +contact with this supposedly +superior race in the foreseeable +future?"</p> + +<p>"You are in contact with it +now."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>" Even Ynos was +contemptuous now. "You +mean that one shipload of +despicable humans who—far +too late to do them any good—barred +us temporarily from +Fuel World?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly or only those +humans, no. And your assumptions +may or may not be +valid."</p> + +<p>"Don't you <i>know</i> whether +they are or not?" Ynos +snapped. "Explain your uncertainty +at once!"</p> + +<p>"I am uncertain because of +insufficient data," the brain +replied, calmly. "The only +pertinent facts of which I am +certain are: First, the world +Ardry, upon which the Omans +formerly lived and to which +the humans in question first +went—a planet which no +Strett can peyondire—is now +abandoned. Second, the +Stretts of old did not completely +destroy the humanity +of the world Ardu. Third, +some escapees from Ardu +reached and populated the +world Ardry. Fourth, the android +Omans were developed +on Ardry, by the human escapees +from Ardu and their +descendants. Fifth, the +Omans referred to those humans +as 'Masters.' Sixth, after +living on Ardry for a very +long period of time the Masters +went elsewhere. Seventh, +the Omans remaining on Ardry +maintained, continuously +and for a very long time, the +status quo left by the Masters. +Eighth, immediately +upon the arrival from Terra +of these present humans, that +long-existing status was broken. +Ninth, the planet called +Fuel World is, for the first +time, surrounded by a screen +of force. The formula of this +screen is as follows."</p> + +<p>The brain gave it. No +Strett either complained or +interrupted. Each was too +busy studying that formula +and examining its stunning +implications and connotations.</p> + +<p>"Tenth, that formula is one +full order of magnitude beyond +anything previously +known to your science. +Eleventh, it could not have +been developed by the science +of Terra, nor by that of +any other world whose population +I have examined."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE brain took the linked +minds instantaneously to +Terra; then to a few thousand +or so other worlds inhabited +by human beings; +then to a few thousands of +planets whose populations +were near-human, non-human +and monstrous.</p> + +<p>"It is therefore clear," it +announced, "that this screen +was computed and produced +by the race, whatever it may +be, that is now dwelling on +Fuel World and asserting +full ownership of it."</p> + +<p>"Who or what <i>is</i> that +race?" Ynos demanded.</p> + +<p>"Data insufficient."</p> + +<p>"Theorize, then!"</p> + +<p>"Postulate that the Masters, +in many thousands of +cycles of study, made advances +in science that were +not reduced to practice; that +the Omans either possessed +this knowledge or had access +to it; and that Omans and +humans cooperated fully in +sharing and in working with +all the knowledges thus available. +From these three postulates +the conclusion can be +drawn that there has come +into existence a new race. +One combining the best +qualities of both humans and +Omans, but with the weaknesses +of neither."</p> + +<p>"An unpleasant thought, +truly," Ynos thought. "But +you can now, I suppose, design +the generators and projectors +of a force superior to +that screen."</p> + +<p>"Data insufficient. I can +equal it, since both generation +and projection are implicit in +the formula. But the data so +adduced are in themselves +vastly ahead of anything previously +in my banks."</p> + +<p>"Are there any other races +in this Galaxy more powerful +than the postulated one now +living on Fuel World?"</p> + +<p>"Data insufficient."</p> + +<p>"Theorize, then!"</p> + +<p>"Data insufficient."</p> + +<p>The linked minds concentrated +upon the problem for +a period of time that might +have been either days or +weeks. Then:</p> + +<p>"Great Brain, advise us," +Ynos said. "What is best for +us to do?"</p> + +<p>"With identical defensive +screens it becomes a question +of relative power. You should +increase the size and power +of your warships to something +beyond the computed +probable maximum of the +enemy. You should build +more ships and missiles than +they will probably be able to +build. Then and only then +will you attack their warships, +in tremendous force +and continuously."</p> + +<p>"But not their planetary +defenses. I see." Ynos's +thought was one of complete +understanding. "And the <i>real</i> +offensive will be?"</p> + +<p>"No mobile structure can +be built to mount mechanisms +of power sufficient to smash +down by sheer force of output +such tremendously powerful +installations as their +planet-based defenses must +be assumed to be. Therefore +the planet itself must be destroyed. +This will require a +missile of planetary mass. +The best such missile is the +tenth planet of their own +sun."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I SEE." Ynos's mind was +leaping ahead, considering +hundreds of possibilities +and making highly intricate +and involved computations. +"That will, however, require +many cycles of time and more +power than even our immense +reserves can supply."</p> + +<p>"True. It will take much +time. The fuel problem, however, +is not a serious one, +since Fuel World is not +unique. Think on, First Lord +Ynos."</p> + +<p>"We will attack in maximum +force and with maximum +violence. We will blanket +the planet. We will maintain +maximum force and violence +until most or all of the +enemy ships have been destroyed. +We will then install +planetary drives on Ten and +force it into collision orbit +with Fuel World, meanwhile +exerting extreme precautions +that not so much as a spy-beam +emerges above the enemy's +screen. Then, still maintaining +extreme precaution, +we will guard both planets +until the last possible moment +before the collision. Brain, it +cannot fail!"</p> + +<p>"You err. It can fail. All +we actually know of the abilities +of this postulated neo-human +race is what I have +learned from the composition +of its defensive screen. The +probability approaches unity +that the Masters continued +to delve and to learn for millions +of cycles while you +Stretts, reasonlessly certain +of your supremacy, concentrated +upon your evolution +from the material to a non-material +form of life and performed +only limited research +into armaments of greater +and ever greater power."</p> + +<p>"True. But that attitude +was then justified. It was not +and is not logical to assume +that any race would establish +a fixed status at any level of +ability below its absolute +maximum."</p> + +<p>"While that conclusion +could once have been defensible, +it is now virtually certain +that the Masters had +stores of knowledge which +they may or may not have +withheld from the Omans, +but which were in some way +made available to the neo-humans. +Also, there is no +basis whatever for the assumption +that this new race +has revealed all its potentialities."</p> + +<p>"Statistically, that is probably +true. But this is the best +plan you have been able to +formulate?"</p> + +<p>"It is. Of the many thousands +of plans I set up and +tested, this one has the highest +probability of success."</p> + +<p>"Then we will adopt it. We +are Stretts. Whatever we decide +upon will be driven +through to complete success. +We have one tremendous advantage +in you."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 367px;"> +<img src="images/004.png" width="367" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Yes. The probability approaches +unity that I can perform +research on a vastly +wider and larger scale, and +almost infinitely faster, than +can any living organism or +any possible combination of +such organisms."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">NOR was the Great Brain +bragging. It scanned in +moments the stored scientific +knowledge of over a million +planets. It tabulated, +correlated, analyzed, synthesized, +theorized and concluded—all +in microseconds of +time. Thus it made more progress +in one Terran week +than the Masters had made +in a million years.</p> + +<p>When it had gone as far as +it could go, it reported its results—and +the Stretts, hard +as they were and intransigent, +were amazed and overjoyed. +Not one of them had +ever even imagined such armaments +possible. Hence they +became supremely confident +that it was unmatched and +unmatchable throughout all +space.</p> + +<p>What the Great Brain did +not know, however, and the +Stretts did not realize, was +that it could not really think.</p> + +<p>Unlike the human mind, it +could not deduce valid theories +or conclusions from incomplete, +insufficient, fragmentary +data. It could not +leap gaps. Thus there was no +more actual assurance than +before that they had exceeded, +or even matched, the +weaponry of the neo-humans +of Fuel World.</p> + +<p>Supremely confident, Ynos +said: "We will now discuss +every detail of the plan in +sub-detail, and will correlate +every sub-detail with every +other, to the end that every +action, however minor, will +be performed perfectly and +in its exact time."</p> + +<p>That discussion, which +lasted for days, was held. +Hundreds of thousands of +new and highly specialized +mechs were built and went +furiously and continuously +to work. A fuel-supply line +was run to another uranexite-rich +planet.</p> + +<p>Stripping machines +stripped away the surface +layers of soil, sand, rock and +low-grade ore. Giant miners +tore and dug and slashed and +refined and concentrated. +Storage silos by the hundreds +were built and were filled. +Hundreds upon hundreds of +concentrate-carriers bored +their stolid ways through hyperspace. +Many weeks of time +passed.</p> + +<p>But of what importance are +mere weeks of time to a race +that has, for many millions +of years, been adhering rigidly +to a pre-set program?</p> + +<p>The sheer magnitude of the +operation, and the extraordinary +attention to detail with +which it was prepared and +launched, explain why the +Strett attack on Ardvor did +not occur until so many weeks +later than Hilton and Sawtelle +expected it. They also +explain the utterly incomprehensible +fury, the completely +fantastic intensity, the unparalleled +savagery, the almost +immeasurable brute power +of that attack when it finally +did come.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">WHEN the <i>Orion</i> landed +on Ardane Field from +Earth, carrying the first contingent +of immigrants, Hilton +and Sawtelle were almost as +much surprised as relieved +that the Stretts had not already +attacked.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle, confident that his +defenses were fully ready, +took it more or less in stride. +Hilton worried. And after a +couple of days he began to do +some real thinking about it.</p> + +<p>The first result of his +thinking was a conference +with Temple. As soon as she +got the drift, she called in +Teddy and Big Bill Karns. +Teddy in turn called in Becky +and de Vaux; Karns wanted +Poynter and Beverly; Poynter +wanted Braden and the +twins; and so on. Thus, what +started out as a conference of +two became a full Ardan staff +meeting; a meeting which, +starting immediately after +lunch, ran straight through +into the following afternoon.</p> + +<p>"To sum up the consensus, +for the record," Hilton said +then, studying a sheet of paper +covered with symbols, +"the Stretts haven't attacked +yet because they found out +that we are stronger than they +are. They found that out by +analyzing our defensive web—which, +if we had had this +meeting first, we wouldn't +have put up at all. Unlike anything +known to human or previous +Strett science, it is +proof against any form of attack +up to the limit of the +power of its generators. They +will attack as soon as they are +equipped to break that screen +at the level of power probable +to our ships. We can not arrive +at any reliable estimate +as to how long that will take.</p> + +<p>"As to the effectiveness of +our cutting off their known +fuel supply, opinion is divided. +We must therefore assume +that fuel shortage will not be +a factor.</p> + +<p>"Neither are we unanimous +on the basic matter as to why +the Masters acted as they did +just before they left Ardry. +Why did they set the status +so far below their top ability? +Why did they make it impossible +for the Omans ever, of +themselves, to learn their +higher science? Why, if they +did not want that science to +become known, did they leave +complete records of it? The +majority of us believe that +the Masters coded their records +in such fashion that the +Stretts, even if they conquered +the Omans or destroyed +them, could never +break that code; since it was +keyed to the basic difference +between the Strett mentality +and the human. Thus, they +left it deliberately for some +human race to find.</p> + +<p>"Finally, and most important, +our physicists and theoreticians +are not able to extrapolate, +from the analysis +of our screen, to the concepts +underlying the Masters' ultimate +weapons of offense, the +first-stage booster and its final +end-product, the Vang. If, +as we can safely assume, the +Stretts do not already have +those weapons, they will know +nothing about them until we +ourselves use them in battle.</p> + +<p>"These are, of course, only +the principal points covered. +Does anyone wish to amend +this summation as recorded?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">NO one did.</p> + +<p>The meeting was adjourned. +Hilton, however, accompanied +Sawtelle and Kedy +to the captain's office. "So +you see, Skipper, we got +troubles," he said. "If we +don't use those boosters +against their skeletons it'll +boil down to a stalemate lasting +God only knows how long. +It will be a war of attrition, +outcome dependent on which +side can build the most and +biggest and strongest ships +the fastest. On the other +hand, if we <i>do</i> use 'em on defense +here, they'll analyze +'em and have everything +worked out in a day or so. The +first thing they'll do is beef +up their planetary defenses to +match. That way, we'd blow +all their ships out of space, +probably easily enough, but +Strett itself will be just as +safe as though it were in +God's left-hand hip pocket. So +what's the answer?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that simple, Jarve," +Sawtelle said. "Let's hear +from you, Kedy."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. There is +an optimum mass, a point of +maximum efficiency of firepower +as balanced against loss +of maneuverability, for any +craft designed for attack," +Kedy thought, in his most +professional manner. "We assume +that the Stretts know +that as well as we do. No such +limitation applies to strictly +defensive structures, but both +the Strett craft and ours must +be designed for attack. We +have built and are building +many hundreds of thousands +of ships of that type. So, undoubtedly, +are the Stretts. +Ship for ship, they will be +pretty well matched. Therefore +one part of my strategy +will be for two of our ships to +engage simultaneously one of +theirs. There is a distinct +probability that we will have +enough advantage in speed of +control to make that tactic +operable."</p> + +<p>"But there's another that we +won't," Sawtelle objected. +"And maybe they can build +more ships than we can."</p> + +<p>"Another point is that they +may build, in addition to their +big stuff, a lot of small, ultra-fast +ones," Hilton put in. +"Suicide jobs—crash and detonate—simply +super-missiles. +How sure are you that you +can stop such missiles with +ordinary beams?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir. Some of +them would of course reach +and destroy some of our ships. +Which brings up the second +part of my strategy. For each +one of the heavies, we are +building many small ships of +the type you just called 'super-missiles'."</p> + +<p>"Superdreadnoughts versus +superdreadnoughts, super-missiles +versus super-missiles." +Hilton digested that +concept for several minutes. +"That could still wind up as +a stalemate, except for what +you said about control. That +isn't much to depend on, especially +since we won't have +the time-lag advantage you +Omans had before. They'll see +to that. Also, I don't like to +sacrifice a million Omans, +either."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">"I HAVEN'T explained the +newest development yet, +sir. There will be no Omans. +Each ship and each missile +has a built-in Kedy brain, +sir."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i> That makes it infinitely +worse. You Kedys, +unless it's absolutely necessary, +are <i>not</i> expendable!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we are, sir. You +don't quite understand. We +Kedys are not merely similar, +but are in fact identical. Thus +we are not independent entities. +All of us together make +up the actual Kedy—that +which is meant when we say +'I'. That is, I am the sum total +of all Kedys everywhere, not +merely this individual that +you call Kedy One."</p> + +<p>"You mean you're <i>all</i> talking +to me?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, sir. Thus, no one +element of the Kedy has any +need of, or any desire for, +self-preservation. The destruction +of one element, or +of thousands of elements, +would be of no more consequence +to the Kedy than ... well, +they are strictly analogous +to the severed ends of +the hairs, every time you get +a haircut."</p> + +<p>"My God!" Hilton stared +at Sawtelle. Sawtelle stared +back. "I'm beginning to see ... maybe ... I +hope. What +control that would be! But +just in case we <i>should</i> have +to use the boosters...." Hilton's +voice died away. Scowling +in concentration, he +clasped his hands behind his +back and began to pace the +floor.</p> + +<p>"Better give up, Jarve. +Kedy's got the same mind +you have," Sawtelle began, to +Hilton's oblivious back; but +Kedy silenced the thought +almost in the moment of its +inception.</p> + +<p>"By no means, sir," he contradicted. +"I have the brain +only. The <i>mind</i> is entirely +different."</p> + +<p>"Link up, Kedy, and see +what you think of this," Hilton +broke in. There ensued +an interchange of thought so +fast and so deeply mathematical +that Sawtelle was lost +in seconds. "Do you think +it'll work?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see how it can fail, +sir. At what point in the action +should it be put into effect? +And will you call the +time of initiation, or shall +I?"</p> + +<p>"Not until all their reserves +are in action. Or, at worst, +all of ours except that one +task-force. Since you'll know +a lot more about the status of +the battle than either Sawtelle +or I will, you give the +signal and I'll start things +going."</p> + +<p>"What are you two talking +about?" Sawtelle demanded.</p> + +<p>"It's a long story, chum. +Kedy can tell you about it +better than I can. Besides, it's +getting late and Dark Lady +and Larry both give me hell +every time I hold supper on +plus time unless there's a +mighty good reason for it. +So, so long, guys."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XIII</h2> + + +<p class="cap">FOR many weeks the production +of Ardan warships +and missiles had been spiraling +upward.</p> + +<p>Half a mountain range of +solid rock had been converted +into fabricated super-steel and +armament. Superdreadnoughts +Were popping into existence +at the rate of hundreds per +minute. Missiles were rolling +off the ends of assembly lines +like half-pint tin cans out of +can-making machines.</p> + +<p>The Strett warcraft, skeletons +and missiles, would +emerge into normal space anywhere +within a million miles +of Ardvor. The Ardan missiles +were powered for an acceleration +of one hundred gravities. +That much the Kedy brains, +molded solidly into teflon-lined, +massively braced steel +spheres, could just withstand.</p> + +<p>To be certain of breaking +the Strett screens, an impact +velocity of about six miles per +second was necessary. The +time required to attain this +velocity was about ten seconds, +and the flight distance +something over thirty miles.</p> + +<p>Since the Stretts could orient +themselves in less than +one second after emergence, +even this extremely tight +packing of missiles—only sixty +miles apart throughout the +entire emergence volume of +space—would still give the +Stretts the initiative by a +time-ratio of more than ten +to one.</p> + +<p>Such tight packing was of +course impossible. It called +for many billions of defenders +instead of the few millions +it was possible for the Omans +to produce in the time they +had. In fact, the average spacing +was well over ten thousand +miles when the invading +horde of Strett missiles +emerged and struck.</p> + +<p><i>How</i> they struck!</p> + +<p>There was nothing of finesse +about that attack; nothing +of skill or of tactics: nothing +but the sheer brute force +of overwhelming superiority +of numbers and of over-matching +power. One instant +all space was empty. The next +instant it was full of invading +missiles—a superb exhibition +of coordination and timing.</p> + +<p>And the Kedy control, upon +which the defenders had +counted so heavily, proved +useless. For each Strett missile, +within a fraction of a second +of emergence, darted toward +the nearest Oman missile +with an acceleration that +made the one-hundred-gravity +defenders seem to be standing +still.</p> + +<p>One to one, missiles crashed +into missiles and detonated. +There were no solid or liquid +end-products. Each of those +frightful weapons carried so +many megatons-equivalent of +atomic concentrate that all +nearby space blossomed out +into superatomic blasts hundreds +of times more violent +than the fireballs of lithium-hydride +fusion bombs.</p> + +<p>For a moment even Hilton +was stunned; but only for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Kedy!" he barked. "Get +your big stuff out there! Use +the boosters!" He started for +the door at a full run. "That +tears it—that <i>really</i> tears it! +Scrap the plan. I'll board the +<i>Sirius</i> and take the task-force +to Strett. Bring your stuff +along, Skipper, as soon as +you're ready."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">ARDAN superdreadnoughts +in their massed thousands +poured out through Ardvor's +one-way screen. Each went instantly +to work. Now the +Kedy control system, doing +what it was designed to do, +proved its full worth. For the +weapons of the big battle-wagons +did not depend upon acceleration, +but were driven at +the speed of light; and Grand +Fleet Operations were +planned and were carried out +at the almost infinite velocity +of thought itself.</p> + +<p>Or, rather, they were not +planned at all. They were simply +carried out, immediately +and without confusion.</p> + +<p>For all the Kedys were one. +Each Kedy element, without +any lapse of time whatever +for consultation with any +other, knew exactly where +every other element was; exactly +what each was doing; +and exactly what he himself +should do to make maximum +contribution to the common +cause.</p> + +<p>Nor was any time lost in relaying +orders to crewmen +within the ship. There were +no crewmen. Each Kedy element +was the sole personnel +of, and was integral with, his +vessel. Nor were there any +wires or relays to impede and +slow down communication. +Operational instructions, too, +were transmitted and were +acted upon with thought's +transfinite speed. Thus, if decision +and execution were not +quite mathematically simultaneous, +they were separated by +a period of time so infinitesimally +small as to be impossible +of separation.</p> + +<p>Wherever a Strett missile +was, or wherever a Strett +skeleton-ship appeared, an +Oman beam reached it, usually +in much less than one second. +Beam clung to screen—caressingly, +hungrily—absorbing +its total energy and forming +the first-stage booster. +Then, three microseconds +later, that booster went off +into a ragingly incandescent, +glaringly violent burst of fury +so hellishly, so inconceivably +hot that less than a thousandth +of its total output of energy +was below the very top of the +visible spectrum!</p> + +<p>If the previous display of +atomic violence had been so +spectacular and of such magnitude +as to defy understanding +or description, what of +this? When hundreds of thousands +of Kedys, each wielding +world-wrecking powers as +effortlessly and as deftly and +as precisely as thought, attacked +and destroyed millions +of those tremendously powerful +war-fabrications of the +Stretts? The only simple answer +is that all nearby space +might very well have been +torn out of the most radiant +layers of S-Doradus itself.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">HILTON made the hundred +yards from office door to +curb in just over twelve seconds. +Larry was waiting. The +car literally burned a hole in +the atmosphere as it screamed +its way to Ardane Field.</p> + +<p>It landed with a thump. +Heavy black streaks of synthetic +rubber marked the +pavement as it came to a +screeching, shrieking stop at +the flagship's main lock. And, +in the instant of closing that +lock's outer portal, all twenty-thousand-plus +warships of +the task force took off as one +at ten gravities. Took off, and +in less than one minute went +into overdrive.</p> + +<p>All personal haste was now +over. Hilton went up into +what he still thought of as +the "control room," even +though he knew that there +were no controls, nor even +any instruments, anywhere +aboard. He knew what he +would find there. Fast as he +had acted, Temple had not +had as far to go and she had +got there first.</p> + +<p>He could not have said, for +the life of him, how he actually +felt about this direct defiance +of his direct orders. He +walked into the room, sat +down beside her and took her +hand.</p> + +<p>"I told you to stay home, +Temple," he said.</p> + +<p>"I know you did. But I'm +not only the assistant head of +your Psychology Department. +I'm your wife, remember? +'Until death do us part.' And +if there's any way in the universe +I can manage it, death +isn't going to part us—at +least, this one isn't. If this is +it, we'll go together."</p> + +<p>"I know, sweetheart." He +put his arm around her, held +her close. "As a psych I +wouldn't give a whoop. You'd +be expendable. But as my +wife, especially now that +you're pregnant, you aren't. +You're a lot more important +to the future of our race than +I am."</p> + +<p>She stiffened in the circle +of his arm. "What's <i>that</i> +crack supposed to mean? +Think I'd ever accept a synthetic +zombie imitation of you +for my husband and go on living +with it just as though +nothing had happened?"</p> + +<p>Hilton started to say something, +but Temple rushed +heedlessly on: "<i>Drat</i> the race! +No matter how many children +we ever have you were first +and you'll <i>stay</i> first, and if +you have to go I'll go, too, +so there! Besides, you know +darn well that they can't duplicate +whatever it is that +makes you Jarvis Hilton."</p> + +<p>"Now wait a minute, Tempy. +The conversion ..."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the conversion," +she interrupted, triumphantly. +"The thing I'm talking about +is immaterial—untouchable—they +didn't—couldn't—do any +thing about it at all. Kedy, +will you please tell this big +goofus that even though you +have got Jarvis Hilton's brain +you aren't Jarvis Hilton and +never can be?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE atmosphere of the +room vibrated in the frequencies +of a deep bass laugh. +"You are trying to hold a completely +untenable position, +friend Hilton. Any attempt to +convince a mind of real power +that falsity is truth is illogical. +My advice is for you +to surrender."</p> + +<p>That word hit Temple hard. +"Not surrender, sweetheart. +I'm not fighting you. I never +will." She seized both of his +hands; tears welled into her +glorious eyes. "It's just that I +simply couldn't <i>stand</i> it to go +on living without you!"</p> + +<p>"I know, darling." He got +up and lifted her to her feet, +so that she could come properly +into his arms. They stood +there, silent and motionless, +for minutes.</p> + +<p>Temple finally released herself +and, after feeling for a +handkerchief she did not have, +wiped her eyes with a forefinger +and then wiped the finger +on her bare leg. She +grinned and turned to the +Omans. "Prince, will you and +Dark Lady please conjure us +up a steak-and-mushrooms +supper? They should be in the +pantry ... since this <i>Sirius</i> was +designed for us."</p> + +<p>After supper the two sat +companionably on a davenport. +"One thing about this +business isn't quite clear," +Temple said. "Why all this +tearing rush? They haven't +got the booster or anything +like it, or they'd have used it. +Surely it'll take them a long +time to go from the mere +analysis of the forces and +fields we used clear through +to the production and installation +of enough weapons to +stop this whole fleet?"</p> + +<p>"It surely won't. They've +had the absorption principle +for ages. Remember that first, +ancient skeleton that drained +all the power of our suits and +boats in nothing flat? From +there it isn't too big a jump. +And as for producing stuff; +uh-<i>uh</i>! If there's any limit to +what they can do, I don't +know what it is. If we don't +slug 'em before they get it, +it's curtains."</p> + +<p>"I see.... I'm afraid. We're +almost there, darling."</p> + +<p>He glanced at the chronometer. +"About eleven minutes. +And of course I don't +need to ask you to stay out +of the way."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I won't interfere, +no matter what happens. +All I'm going to do is +hold your hand and pull for +you with all my might."</p> + +<p>"That'll help, believe me. +I'm mighty glad you're along, +sweetheart. Even though both +of us know you shouldn't be."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">THE task force emerged. +Each ship darted toward +its pre-assigned place in a +mathematically exact envelope +around the planet Strett.</p> + +<p>Hilton sat on a davenport +strained and still. His eyes +were closed and every muscle +tense. Left hand gripped the +arm-rest so fiercely that fingertips +were inches deep in +the leather-covered padding.</p> + +<p>The Stretts <i>knew</i> that any +such attack as this was futile. +No movable structure or any +combination of such structures +could possibly wield +enough power to break down +screens powered by such engines +as theirs.</p> + +<p>Hilton, however, knew that +there was a chance. Not with +the first-stage boosters, which +were manipulable and detonable +masses of ball lightning, +but with those boosters' +culminations, the Vangs; +which were ball lightning +raised to the sixth power and +which only the frightful energies +of the boosters could +bring into being.</p> + +<p>But, even with twenty-thousand-plus +Vangs—or any +larger number—success depended +entirely upon a nicety +of timing never before approached +and supposedly impossible. +Not only to thousandths +of a microsecond, but +to a small fraction of one such +thousandth: roughly, the time +it takes light to travel three-sixteenths +of an inch.</p> + +<p>It would take practically absolute +simultaneity to overload +to the point of burnout +to those Strett generators. +They were the heaviest in the +Galaxy.</p> + +<p>That was why Hilton himself +had to be there. He could +not possibly have done the job +from Ardvor. In fact, there +was no real assurance that, +even at the immeasurable +velocity of thought and covering +a mere million miles, he +could do it even from his present +position aboard one unit +of the fleet. Theoretically, +with his speed-up, he could. +But that theory had yet to be +reduced to practice.</p> + +<p>Tense and strained, Hilton +began his countdown.</p> + +<p>Temple sat beside him. +Both hands pressed his right +fist against her breast. Her +eyes, too, were closed; she was +as stiff and as still as was he. +She was not interfering, but +giving; supporting him, backing +him, giving to him in full +flood everything of that tremendous +inner strength that +had made Temple Bells what +she so uniquely was.</p> + +<p>On the exact center of the +needle-sharp zero beat every +Kedy struck. Gripped and activated +as they all were +by Hilton's keyed-up-and-stretched-out +mind, they +struck in what was very close +indeed to absolute unison.</p> + +<p>Absorbing beams, each one +having had precisely the same +number of millimeters to travel, +reached the screen at the +same instant. They clung and +sucked. Immeasurable floods +of energy flashed from the +Strett generators into those +vortices to form twenty thousand-plus +first-stage boosters.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">BUT this time the boosters +did not detonate.</p> + +<p>Instead, as energies continued +to flood in at a frightfully +accelerating rate, they +turned into something else. +Things no Terran science has +ever even imagined; things at +the formation of which all +neighboring space actually +warped, and in that warping +seethed and writhed and shuddered. +The very sub-ether +screamed and shrieked in protest +as it, too, yielded in +starkly impossible fashions to +that irresistible stress.</p> + +<p>How even those silicon-fluorine +brains stood it, not +one of them ever knew.</p> + +<p>Microsecond by slow microsecond +the Vangs grew and +grew and grew. They were +pulling not only the full power +of the Ardan warships, but +also the immeasurably greater +power of the strainingly overloaded +Strettsian generators +themselves. The ethereal and +sub-ethereal writhings and +distortions and screamings +grew worse and worse; harder +and ever harder to bear.</p> + +<p>Imagine, if you can, a constantly +and rapidly increasing +mass of plutonium—a mass already +thousands of times +greater than critical, but not +<i>allowed</i> to react! That gives +a faint and very inadequate +picture of what was happening +then.</p> + +<p>Finally, at perhaps a hundred +thousand times critical +mass, and still in perfect sync, +the Vangs all went off.</p> + +<p>The planet Strett became a +nova.</p> + +<p>"We won! We <i>won</i>!" Temple +shrieked, her perception +piercing through the hellish +murk that was all nearby +space.</p> + +<p>"Not quite yet, sweet, but +we're over the biggest hump," +and the two held an impromptu, +but highly satisfactory, +celebration.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it would be better +to say that the planet Strett +became a junior-grade nova, +since the actual nova stage +was purely superficial and did +not last very long. In a couple +of hours things had quieted +down enough so that the +heavily-screened warships +could approach the planet and +finish up their part of the +job.</p> + +<p>Much of Strett's land surface +was molten lava. Much +of its water was gone. There +were some pockets of resistance +left, of course, but +they did not last long. Equally +of course the Stretts themselves, +twenty-five miles underground, +had not been +harmed at all.</p> + +<p>But that, too, was according +to plan.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class="cap">LEAVING the task force on +guard, to counter any move +the Stretts might be able to +make, Hilton shot the <i>Sirius</i> +out to the planet's moon. +There Sawtelle and his staff +and tens of thousands of +Omans and machines were +starting to work. No part of +this was Hilton's job; so all +he and Temple did was look +on.</p> + +<p>Correction, please. That was +not <i>all</i> they did. But while +resting and eating and loafing +and sleeping and enjoying +each other's company, both +watched Operation Moon +closely enough to be completely +informed as to everything +that went on.</p> + +<p>Immense, carefully placed +pits went down to solid bedrock. +To that rock were immovably +anchored structures +strong enough to move a +world. Driving units were installed—drives +of such immensity +of power as to test +to the full the highest engineering +skills of the Galaxy. +Mountains of fuel-concentrate +filled vast reservoirs of concrete. +Each was connected to +a drive by fifty-inch high-speed +conveyors.</p> + +<p>Sawtelle drove a thought +and those brutal super-drives +began to blast.</p> + +<p>As they blasted, Strett's +satellite began to move out of +its orbit. Very slowly at first, +but faster and faster. They +continued to blast, with all +their prodigious might and in +carefully-computed order, until +the desired orbit was attained—an +orbit which terminated +in a vertical line +through the center of the +Stretts' supposedly impregnable +retreat.</p> + +<p>The planet Strett had a +mass of approximately seven +times ten to the twenty-first +metric tons. Its moon, little +more than a hundredth as +massive, still weighed in at +about eight times ten to the +nineteenth—that is, the figure +eight followed by nineteen +zeroes.</p> + +<p>And moon fell on planet, in +direct central impact, after +having fallen from a height +of over a quarter of a million +miles under the full pull of +gravity and the full thrust of +those mighty atomic drives.</p> + +<p>The kinetic energy of such +a collision can be computed. +It can be expressed. It is, +however, of such astronomical +magnitude as to be completely +meaningless to the human +mind.</p> + +<p>Simply, the two worlds +merged and splashed. Droplets, +weighing up to millions +of tons each, spattered out +into space; only to return, in +seconds or hours or weeks or +months, to add their atrocious +contributions to the enormity +of the destruction already +wrought.</p> + +<p>No trace survived of any +Strett or of any thing, however +small, pertaining to the +Stretts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Epilogue</h2> + + +<p class="cap">AS had become a daily custom, +most of the Ardans +were gathered at the natatorium. +Hilton and Temple were +wrestling in the water—she +was trying to duck him and +he was hard put to it to keep +her from doing it. The platinum-haired +twins were—oh, +ever so surreptitiously and indetectably!—studying +the other +girls.</p> + +<p>Captain Sawtelle—he had +steadfastly refused to accept +any higher title—and his wife +were teaching two of their +tiny grandchildren to swim.</p> + +<p>In short, everything was +normal.</p> + +<p>Beverly Bell Poynter, from +the top platform, hit the board +as hard as she could hit it; +and, perfectly synchronized +with it, hurled herself upward. +Up and up and up she +went. Up to her top ceiling +of two hundred ten feet. Then, +straightening out into a shapely +arrow and without again +moving a muscle, she hurtled +downward, making two and a +half beautifully stately turns +and striking the water with a +slurping, splashless <i>chug</i>! +Coming easily to the surface, +she shook the water out of her +eyes.</p> + +<p>Temple, giving up her attempts +to near-drown her husband, +rolled over and floated +quietly beside him.</p> + +<p>"You know, this is fun," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Uh-<i>huh</i>," she agreed enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you and Sandy +buried the hatchet. Two of the +top women who ever lived. Or +should I have said sheathed +the claws? Or have you, really?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty much ... I guess." +Temple didn't seem altogether +sure of the point. "Oh-oh. +<i>Now</i> what?"</p> + +<p>A flitabout had come to +ground. Dark Lady, who never +delivered a message via +thought if she could possibly +get away with delivering it in +person, was running full tilt +across the sand toward them. +Her long black hair was +streaming out behind her; she +was waving a length of teletype +tape as though it were a +pennon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Not <i>again</i>?" Temple +wailed. "Don't tell us it's +Terra again, Dark Lady, +please."</p> + +<p>"But it is!" Dark Lady +cried, excitedly. "And it says +'From Five-Jet Admiral Gordon, +Commanding.'"</p> + +<p>"Omit flowers, please," Hilton +directed. "Boil it down."</p> + +<p>"The <i>Perseus</i> is in orbit +with the whole Advisory +Board. They want to hold a +top-level summit conference +with Director Hilton and +Five-Jet Admiral Sawtelle." +Dark Lady raised her voice +enough to be sure Sawtelle +heard the title, and shot him +a wicked glance as she announced +it. "They hope to +conclude all unfinished business +on a mutually satisfactory +and profitable basis."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Lady, thanks. Tell +'em we'll call 'em shortly."</p> + +<p>Dark Lady flashed away +and Hilton and Temple swam +slowly toward a ladder.</p> + +<p>"Drat Terra and everything +and everybody on it," Temple +said, vigorously. "And especially +drat His Royal Fatness +Five-Jet Admiral Gordon. +How much longer will it take, +do you think, to pound some +sense into their pointed little +heads?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're not doing too +bad," Hilton assured his lovely +bride. "Two or three more +sessions ought to do it."</p> + +<p>Everything was normal....</p> + + +<p class="theend">END</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="cpoem"> +<p>Don't miss the next Galaxy Magazine!</p> + +<p class="center">THE BIG ENGINE<br /> +by Fritz Leiber<br /> +<br /> +CRITICAL MASS<br /> +by Pohl & Kornbluth<br /> +<br /> +THE RAG AND BONE MEN<br /> +by Algis Budrys</p> + +<p>And many more, including Willy Ley science column and the +great conclusion of Poul Anderson's THE DAY AFTER +DOOMSDAY! February <i>Galaxy</i> on sale December 10th—ask +your newsdealer to reserve it for you!</p></div> + + + + + +<div class="trans1"><p class="trnhd">Transcriber's Note</p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Worlds of If</i> November 1961 and +January 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on these publications was renewed.</p> + +<p>The chapter headers of the second instalment, originally starting from +X, have been correctly numbered. Minor spelling and typographical errors +have been corrected without note.</p> + + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Masters of Space, by +Edward Elmer Smith and Edward Everett Evans + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTERS OF SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 22754-h.htm or 22754-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/5/22754/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Stephen Blundell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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