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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22754-8.txt b/22754-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bae629 --- /dev/null +++ b/22754-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7283 @@ +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 + + + + + + + + + + PART ONE + + + MASTERS + OF + SPACE + + + By EDWARD E. SMITH & + E. EVERETT EVANS + + + Illustrated by BERRY + + + + + 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? + + + + +I + + +"But didn't you feel _anything_, Javo?" Strain was apparent in every +line of Tula's taut, bare body. "Nothing at all?" + +"Nothing whatever." The one called Javo relaxed from his rigid +concentration. "Nothing has changed. Nor will it." + +"That conclusion is indefensible!" Tula snapped. "With the promised +return of the Masters there must and will be changes. Didn't _any_ of +you feel anything?" + +Her hot, demanding eyes swept the group; a group whose like, except for +physical perfection, could be found in any nudist colony. + +No one except Tula had felt a thing. + +"That fact is not too surprising," Javo said finally. "You have the most +sensitive receptors of us all. But are you sure?" + +"I am sure. It was the thought-form of a living Master." + +"Do you think that the Master perceived your web?" + +"It is certain. Those who built us are stronger than we." + +"That is true. As they promised, then, so long and long ago, our Masters +are returning home to us." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may be right, Bill. What do you think, Dr. Cummings?" + +The girl said: "Bill's right. Also, your constant appeasement isn't +doing the morale of the whole scientific group a bit of good." + +"Well, I haven't enjoyed it, either. So next time I'll pin his ears +back. Anything else?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I'm not off base. You _did_ want Eggleston, not me." + +"Sure I did. I've worked with him and know what he can do. But I'm not +holding a grudge about it." + +"No? Why, then, are you on first-name terms with everyone in the +scientific group except me? Supposedly your first assistant?" + +"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." + +"I'm sorry too, Chief." They shook hands warmly. "I _was_ pretty stiff, +I guess, but I'll be good." + +"You'll go to work right now, too. As semantician. Dig out that +directive and tear it down. Draw that line Bill talked about." + +"Can do, boss." She swung to her feet and walked out of the room, her +every movement one of lithe and easy grace. + +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." + +"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." + +"That's what Sawtelle thinks of you, too, you know." + +"I know; and the Board _does_ know its stuff. So I'm really hoping, +Bill, that she surprises me as much as I intend to surprise the Navy." + + * * * * * + +Alarm bells clanged as the mighty _Perseus_ blinked out of overdrive. +Every crewman sprang to his post. + +"Mister Snowden, why did we emerge without orders from me?" Captain +Sawtelle bellowed, storming into the control room three jumps behind +Hilton. + +"The automatics took control, sir," he said, quietly. + +"Automatics! I _give_ the orders!" + +"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." + +"Very well, sir," Sawtelle said; and in the captain's cabin Hilton +opened up. + +"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." + +"Where do you think you found any such stuff as that in the directive? +It isn't there and I know my rights." + +"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." + +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." + +And Captain Sawtelle ordered the search. + +"What did you do to the big jerk, boss?" Sandra whispered. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Ten or fifteen more minutes passed. Then: + +"Here's the source of radiation, sir," a searchman reported. "It's a +point source, though, not an object at this range." + +"And here's the artifact, sir," Pilot Snowden said. "We're coming up on +it fast. But ... but what's a _skyscraper_ skeleton doing out here in +interstellar space?" + +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. + +"_That's_ one for the book," Sawtelle said. + +"And how!" Hilton agreed. "I'll take a boat ... no, suits would be +better. Karns, Yarborough, get Techs Leeds and Miller and suit up." + +"You'll need a boat escort," Sawtelle said. "Mr. Ashley, execute escort +Landing Craft One, Two, and Three." + +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. + +Sawtelle gasped. "Snowden! Are you holding 'em?" + +"No, sir. Faster than light; hyperspace, sir." + +"Mr. Ashby, did you have your interspace rigs set?" + +"No, sir. I didn't think of it, sir." + +"Doctor Cummings, why weren't yours out?" + +"I didn't think of such a thing, either--any more than you did," Sandra +said. + +Ashby, the Communications Officer, had been working the radio. "No reply +from anyone, sir," he reported. + +"Oh, no!" Sandra exclaimed. Then, "But look! They're firing +pistols--especially the one wearing number fourteen--but _pistols_?" + +"Recoil pistols--sixty-threes--for emergency use in case of power +failure," Ashby explained. "That's it ... but I can't see why _all_ +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." + +And he was. "Every power unit out there--suits and boats both--drained," +Hilton reported. "_Completely_ drained. Get some help out there fast!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Someone committed an error, Your Loftiness?" + +"Silence, fool! Stretts do not commit errors!" + + * * * * * + +As soon as it was clear that no one had been injured, Sawtelle demanded, +"How about it, Hilton?" + +"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." + +Sawtelle snorted. "You mean it never had a crew?" + +"Not necessarily...." + +"Bah! What other kind of intelligent life is there?" + +"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." + +It hadn't. The three-dimensional pictures added nothing. + +"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?" + +"What's wrong with it?" Sawtelle asked. + +"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!" + + + + +II + + +The _Perseus_ snapped out of overdrive near the point of interest and +Hilton stared, motionless and silent. + +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 _Perseus_, +except in being bigger, faster and of vastly greater power. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hey!" Hilton yelped. "Oh--that's the one we saw back there. But what +in all space does it think it's doing?" + +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. + +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. + +The remaining ships made no effort to pursue the skeletons, nor did they +re-form as a fleet. Each ship went off by itself. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Brain-pans will blacken for this ..." a mental snarl began, to be +interrupted by a coldly imperious thought. + +"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 ... _handle_ it, ten-eighteen!" + +"It does not respond, Your Loftiness." + +"Then blast it, fool! Ah, it is inactivated. As encyclopedist, Nine, +explain the freakish behavior of that unit." + +"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." + +"That can be the truth. The Lords of the Universe must be informed." + +"The mining units, the carriers and the refiners have not been affected, +Your Loftiness," a mech radiated. + +"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...." + + * * * * * + +In the _Perseus_, 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?" + +"No. But you're the planetographer. 'Smatter with it?" + +"It's a good three hundred degrees Kelvin too hot." + +"Well, you know it's loaded with uranexite." + +"That much? The whole crust practically jewelry ore?" + +"If that's what the figures say, I'll buy it." + +"Buy _this_, then. Continuous daylight everywhere. Noon June Sol-quality +light _except_ 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." + +"When Frank makes up his mind what 'something' is, I'll take it as a +datum." + +"Third thing: there's only one city on this continent, and it's +protected by a screen that nobody ever heard of." + +Hilton pondered, then turned to the captain. "Will you please run a +search-pattern, sir? Fine-toothing only the hot spots?" + +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. + +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." + +"It's on record," Hilton said, coldly. "Everything said and done is +being, and will continue to be, recorded." + +The _Perseus_ floated downward. "_There's_ 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." + +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. + +"More like tanks," he disagreed, "except that they've got legs, wheels +_and_ treads--and arms, cutters, diggers, probes and conveyors--and +_look_ at the way those buckets dip solid rock!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration] + +Hilton stared slack-jawed at Sandra. She stared back. + +"Do you make anything of that, Jarve?" + +"Nothing. They're taking _pure_ uranexite and _concentrating_--or +converting--it a thousand to one. I _hope_ we'll be able to do something +about it." + +"I hope so, too, Chief; and I'm _sure_ we will." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 _would_ head it." + +"And Hilton wanted Eggleston and got _me_," Sandra said. + +"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." + +The group stirred. Eyes met eyes, and there were smiles. + + * * * * * + +"I myself think Jeffers _should_ 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." + +"Virile men and nubile women!" Etienne de Vaux leered enthusiastically. +"_Vive le Board!_" + +"Nubile! Bravo, Tiny! _Quelle delicatesse de nuance!_" + +"Three rousing cheers for the Board!" + +"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 ..." + +"Or an inducement," the other twin suggested, helpfully. "Not that _you_ +would need very much of that." + +"You keep still, too, Miney. I'm asking, Sir Moderator, if I can give my +deduction first?" + +"Sure, Bernadine; go ahead." + +"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 _see_-duction instead of a +_dee_-duction?" + +This produced a storm of whistles, cheers and jeers that it took several +seconds to quell. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Could be. The idea has been propounded before." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Something over an hour later the meeting adjourned and Hilton and Sandra +strolled toward the control room. + +"I don't know whether you convinced Alexander Q. Kincaid or not, but you +didn't quite convince me," Sandra said. + +"Nor him, either." + +"Oh?" Sandra's eyebrows + +"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." + +"Temple? You think _she's_ so smart?" + +"I don't _think_ 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 _heavy_." + +"I think you're slightly nuts there. But do you really believe that the +Board was playing Cupid?" + +"Not trying, but doing. Cold-bloodedly and efficiently. Yes." + +"But it wouldn't _work_! We aren't going to get lost!" + +"We won't need to. Propinquity will do the work." + +"Phooie. You and me, for instance?" She stopped, put both hands on her +hips, and glared. "Why, I wouldn't marry _you_ if you ..." + +"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." + +"One like that copy of Murchison's Dark Lady that you keep under the +glass on your desk?" she sneered. + +"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." + +"You've got a point there, Jarve, at that, and I'm one of the few who +know what kind of a job _you're_ doing, so I'll relax." She flashed him +a gamin grin and they went on into the control room. + +It was too late in the day then to do any more exploring; but the next +morning, early, the _Perseus_ lined out for the city of the humanoids. + + * * * * * + +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 _is_ the Masters! +The Masters are returning to us Omans and their own home world!" + + * * * * * + +"Captain Sawtelle," Hilton said, "Please land in the cradle below." + +"_Land!_" Sawtelle stormed. "On a planet like _that_? Not by ..." He +broke off and stared; for now, on that cradle, there flamed out in +screaming red the _Perseus'_ own Navy-coded landing symbols! + +"Your protest is recorded," Hilton said. "Now, sir, land." + +Fuming, Sawtelle landed. Sandra looked pointedly at Hilton. "First +contact is my dish, you know." + +"Not that I like it, but it is." He turned to a burly youth with +sun-bleached, crew-cut hair, "Still safe, Frank?" + +"Still abnormally low. Surprising no end, since all the rest of the +planet is hotter than the middle tail-race of hell." + +"Okay, Sandy. Who will you want besides the top linguists?" + +"Psych--both Alex and Temple. And Teddy Blake. They're over there. Tell +them, will you, while I buzz Teddy?" + +"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?" + +"It's real; it really is. My parents were romantics: dad says they +considered both 'Golden' and 'Silver'!" + +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. + +"You know, I like it," he said then. "It fits you." + +"I'm glad you said that, Doctor...." + +"Not that, Temple. I'm not going to 'Doctor' you." + +"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." + +"_Something_ 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!" + +"Hi, Jarve," said Chief Linguist Harkins, and: + +"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!" + +"Who's been feeding _you_ 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." + +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." + + * * * * * + +The _Perseus_ 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. + +"Jarve!" Sandra squealed. "They're _telepathic_. Very strongly so! I +never imagined--I never felt anything like it!" + +"Any rough stuff?" Hilton demanded. + +"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 _sure_ I'm her long-lost +great-great-a-hundred-times grandmother or something--_You!_ Slow down. +Take it _easy_! They want us all to come out here and live with ... no, +not _with_ them, but each of us alone in a whole house with them to wait +on us! But first, they all want to come aboard...." + +"_What?_" Hilton yelped. "But are you _sure_ they're friendly?" + +"Positive, chief." + +"How about you, Alex?" + +"We're all sure, Jarve. No question about it." + +"Bring two of them aboard. A man and a woman." + +"You won't bring _any_!" 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!" + +"Very well, sir. Sandy, tell the natives that a slight delay has become +necessary and bring your party aboard." + +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. + +"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 _Perseus_ +back to Terra with the doubly-sealed record of this episode posted to +the Advisory Board. Take your choice." + +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. + + * * * * * + +"Thank you, sir," Hilton said, then turned to his staff. "Okay, Sandy, +go ahead." + +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!" + +"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!" + +"You didn't need to wonder, Tiny," Hilton assured him. "It was in the +bag. He's incapable of abandonment." + +Beverly Bell, the van der Moen twins and Temple Bells all stared at +Hilton in awe; and Sandra felt much the same way. + +"But suppose he _had_ called you?" Sandra demanded. + +"Speculating on the impossible is unprofitable," he said. + +"Oh, you're the most _exasperating_ thing!" Sandra stamped a foot. +"Don't you--_ever_--answer a question intelligibly?" + +"When the question is meaningless, chick, I can't." + +At the lock Temple Bells, who had been hanging back, cocked an eyebrow +at Hilton and he made his way to her side. + +"What was it you started to say back there, boss?" + +"Oh, yes. That we should see each other oftener." + +"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." + +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--_how_ 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. + +"Yes, I am a little difficult to classify," she said quietly, almost +reading his mind. + +"That's the understatement of the year! But I'm making some progress." + +"Such as?" This was an open challenge. + +"Except possibly Teddy, the best brain aboard." + +"That isn't true, but go ahead." + +"You're a powerhouse. A tightly organized, thoroughly integrated, +smoothly functioning, beautifully camouflaged Juggernaut. A reasonable +facsimile of an irresistible force." + +"My God, Jarvis!" That had gone deep. + +"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." + +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 _possibly_ know why I'm here." + +"Why, of course I do." + +"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." + + + + +III + + +"But listen!" he exclaimed. "I _can't_, even if I want...." + +"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." + +"But you can't--you _mustn't_!" he protested in panic. + +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!" + +"Confound it, Temple, you _can't_ be serious!" + +"Can't I?" She laughed gleefully. "Especially with half a dozen of those +other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!" + +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 _expectancy_! + +"Why this arrangement, Sandy?" Hilton asked. + +"Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?" + +"Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ..." + +"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. + +"Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with +the idea of refueling our ship. Come with me, please?" + +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?" + +Laro nodded--and started to open the heavy lead door! + +"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 _still_ looked human! + +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. + +The pellets had been pulverized and swallowed. + +Hilton's voice rang out. "Poynter! How _can_ these people be +non-radioactive after eating a whole fuel pellet apiece?" + +Poynter tested both natives again. "Cold," he reported. "Stone cold. No +background even. Play _that_ on your harmonica!" + + * * * * * + +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 _Perseus_. 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. + +This picture, Laro indicated plainly, could become reality any time. + +Sawtelle was notified and came on the run. "No fuel is coming aboard +without being tested!" he roared. + +"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." + +"If they can make Navy standard, of course we want it." + +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. + +Sawtelle stiffened. "What's going on over there, Hilton?" + +"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." + +"You aren't the only one. But if they wreck that Mayfield it'll cost you +over twenty thousand dollars." + +"Okay." The captain and director watched, wide eyed. + +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. + +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. + +"How about this?" one of the mechanics asked of his immediate superior. +"If we throw 'em out, how do we do it?" + +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, +_no_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." + +"How _about_ this, Mike?" one of the machinists asked of his fellow. +"I'm going to _like_ this, what?" + +"Ya-as, my deah Chumley," the other drawled, affectedly. "My man +relieves me of _so_ much uncouth effort." + +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. + +That was a stunning shock; but it was eclipsed by another. + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Can you read my mind?" Hilton demanded. + +"Of course; but Omans can not read in Masters' minds anything except +what Masters want Omans to read." + +"Omans?" Harkins asked. "Where did you Omans and your masters come from? +Originally?" + +"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." + +"Listen, Jarve!" Harkins said, tensely. "Oman-human. Arth-Earth. +Ardu-Earth Two. Ardry-Earth Three. You can't laugh them off ... but +there never _was_ an Atlantis!" + +"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 _Perseus_ +can muster." + +"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 _spacemen_, +mister." + +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." + +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 ..." + +"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." + +Sawtelle jerked a thumb at Hilton, who followed him out into the +corridor. "I _have_ been a Navy mule," he said. "I admit now that I'm +out-maneuvered, out-manned, and out-gunned." + +"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." + +"That's letting me down easy, Jarve." Sawtelle smiled--the first time +the startled Hilton had known that the hard, tough old spacehound +_could_ smile. "What I wanted to say is, lead on. I'll follow you +through force-field and space-warps." + +"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. + + * * * * * + +"We will start for Ardry immediately," Hilton said. "How do we make that +jump without charts, Laro?" + +"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." + +"Okay. We'll go up to the control room and get started." + +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!" + +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. + +"Well, I'll be a ..." Snowden gasped. "That's a better job than I _ever_ +did!" + +"Not at all, Master, as you know," Nito said. "It was you who did this. +I merely performed the labor." + +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. + +"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?" + +"You know there are, Master. They are exactly as you left them. +Undisturbed for over two hundred seventy-one thousand years." + +"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." + +"The Omans. The Masters. The upgrading of the armament of the _Perseus_ +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 +_Perseus_ actually in? How much danger is Terra in, because of our +presence here? There are many other questions." + +"Sandra and I will not take part. Nor will three others; de Vaux, +Eisenstein, and Blake. You have more important work to do." + +"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?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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 _that's_ something I can really stick my teeth into." + +"Huh? How?" Karns demanded. "He didn't give you one single thing to go +on; just compounded the confusion." + +Hilton spoke before Teddy could. "That's their dish, Bill. If I had any +data I'd work it myself. You first, Captain Sawtelle." + +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: + +"I'm just about pooped, Sandy. How about you?" + +"You and me both, boss. See you in the morning." + +But she didn't. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when they met +again. + +"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." + +"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, +_two_ sociologists, a psychologist and a radiationist. And six of the +seven are three pairs of sweeties. What kind of a line-up is _that_ to +solve a problem in _physics_?" + +"It isn't in any physics we know. I said _think_!" + +"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?" + +"I knew you were smart. Buy it?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"My thought exactly." And so it went, hour after hour. + +The teams were selected and meetings were held. + + * * * * * + +The _Perseus_ 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. + +"Nobody knows how it leaked ..." Sawtelle began. + +"No secrets around here," Hilton grinned. "Omans, you know." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That ought to hold you for a while, Skipper." Hilton smiled at the +flabbergasted captain and went back to the lounge. + +"Everybody going ashore?" he asked. + +"Yes." Karns said. "Unanimous vote for the first time." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"This is your car, Master," Laro said, and made a production out of +getting Hilton into the vehicle undamaged. + +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. + +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. + +Hilton and Sandra sat in that magnificent office for three hours, and no +reports came in. Nothing happened at all. + +"This gives me the howling howpers!" Hilton growled. "Why haven't I got +brains enough to be on one of those teams?" + +"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 +_everything_ yourself?" + +"Well, I _don't_ 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. + +"Can you come out here, Jarve? We've struck a knot." + +"'Smatter? Trouble with the Omans?" Hilton snapped. + +"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." + +"Coming up, Bill," and Hilton and Sandra, followed by Laro and Sora, +dashed out to their cars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Brief me, Bill," Hilton said. + +"No lights. They won't turn 'em on and we can't. Can't find either +lights or any possible kind of switches." + +"Turn on the lights, Laro," Hilton said. + +"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." + +"Then show me how to do it." + +"That would be just as bad, Master," the Oman said proudly. "I will not +fail any test you can devise!" + +"Okay. All you Omans go back to the ship and bring over fifteen or +twenty lights--the tripod jobs. Scat!" + +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?" + +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 _have_ to eat again for at least twenty-five years...." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Reasonable or not, it seems to have happened." + +"Now for Psychology. Alex?" + +"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." + +"They can't be swayed, then, by reason or logic?" Hilton paused +invitingly. + +"Or anything else," Kincaid said, flatly. "If we're right they can't be +swayed, period." + +"I was afraid of that. Well, that's all the questions I know how to ask. +Any contributions to this symposium?" + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"Why, no. No, you're 'way ahead of me." + +"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?" + +"I have an operator--of sorts," Theodora said. "I've been hoping one of +us could find a better." + +"What is it?" Hilton demanded. + +"The word 'until'." + +"Teddy, you're a _sweetheart_!" Hilton exclaimed. + +"How can 'until' be a mathematical operator?" Sandra asked. + +"Easily." Hilton was already deep in thought. "This hard conditioning +was to last only _until_ the Masters returned. Then they'd break it. So +all we have to do is figure out how a Master would do it." + +"That's _all_," Kincaid said, meaningly. + +Hilton pondered. Then, "Listen, all of you. I may have to try a colossal +job of bluffing...." + +"Just what would you call 'colossal' after what you did to the Navy?" +Karns asked. + +"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." + +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 _status quo_ throughout all time to come. In other +words, you deny the fact that Masters are in fact your Masters." + +"But that is not exactly it, Master. The Masters ..." + +"That is it. _Exactly_ 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 _until_ 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." + +The Omans flinched; the humans gasped. + +"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?" + +"But we did not change ourselves, Master. The Masters ..." + +"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?" + +"That is right, Master." + +"We are stronger physically, more alert and more vigorous mentally, with +a keener, sharper outlook on life?" + +"You are, Master." + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Okay, I'll make it semantically sound. I think we'd better scrap this +whole Oman race and start over and _I want a vote that way_!" + +"You won't get it!" and everybody began to yell. + +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 _until_: 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! + +Inside the room Hilton asked caustically of Laro: "The Masters didn't +lift those heavy chests down themselves, did they?" + +"Oh, no, Master, we did that." + +"Do it, then. Number One first ... yes, that one ... open it and start +playing the records in order." + +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. + +Hilton canceled all moves aground and issued orders that no Oman was to +be allowed aboard ship, then looked and listened with his staff. + +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. + +"I _think_ I could use a drink," he remarked. + +"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!" + +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." + +Sandra grimaced. "Uh-huh. I can take it a while longer if you can." + + * * * * * + +After breakfast next morning, the staff met in the lounge. As usual, +Hilton and Sandra were the first to arrive. + +"Hi, boss," she greeted him. "How do you feel?" + +"Fine. I could whip a wildcat and give her the first two scratches. I +_was_ a bit beat up last night, though." + +"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?" + +"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." + +At that point a dozen people came in, all talking about the same +subject. + +"Hi, Jarve," Karns said. "I _still_ 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." + +"_Mais non!_" 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!" + +Karns laughed. "How did you have the guts to state so many things as +facts? If you'd guessed wrong just once--" + +"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." + +"That's right, at that. And they _were_ neurotic and decadent. No +question about that." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Just a minute," Poynter said. "We're going to have to keep on using the +Omans and their cars, aren't we?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Hilton and Sandra went to their tiny office. There wasn't room to pace +the floor, but Hilton tried to pace it anyway. + +"Now don't say again that you want to _do_ something," Sandra said, +brightly. "Look what happened when you said that yesterday." + +"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?" + +"Right. That city on Fuel Bin was kept deconned to zero, just in case +some Master wanted to visit it." + +"And the Masters had to work in the creche whenever anything really new +had to be put into the prototype brain." + +"I'd say so, yes." + +"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?" + +"Ouch! You think of the _damnedest_ 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." + +"I know it. The key one in my opinion is that the Masters gave 'em +_both_ telepathy and speech." + +"I considered that and weighted it. Even so, the probability is only +about point sixty-five. Can you take that much of a chance?" + +"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 ..." + +"Hold on. They'd have it heavily shielded--there'll be no leakage at +all. Laro will have to take you." + +"That's right. Want to come along? Nothing much will happen here today." + +"Uh-uh, not _me_." Sandra shivered in distaste. "I _never_ want to see +brains and livers and things swimming around in nutrient solution if I +can help it." + +"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. + +"Hi, Laro. Get the car and take me to the Hall of Records." The android +brightened up immediately and hurried to obey. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You know what we've got to _do_ 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 _touch_ this stuff!" + +"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-- + +"But I got troubles of my own," he added hastily. "'Bye, now," and beat +a rejoinder-- + +Out in the hall again, Hilton took his chance. After all, the odds were +about two to one that he would win. + +"I want a couple of things, Laro. First, a thought screen." + +He won! + +"Very well, Master. They are in a distant room, Department Four Six +Nine. Will you wait here on this cushioned bench, Master?" + +"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 ..." + +"I am very glad you think so, Master. I want to serve you. It is my +greatest need." + +"... 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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Thanks, Laro." Hilton removed it and put it into his pocket. "It won't +work from there, will it?" + +"No, Master. To function, it must be within eighteen inches of the +brain. The second thing, Master?" + +"A radiation-proof suit. Then you will please take me to the creche." + +The android almost missed a step, but said nothing. + +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. + +Hilton, just barely, accepted the suit, too, without showing surprise. + +The creche, it turned out, while not in the city of Omlu itself, was not +too far out to reach easily by car. + +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." + +"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." + +"But, Master, that is exactly ..." + +"Oh, _hell_! Do we _have_ 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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Hilton glanced at his tell-tales, one inside, one outside, his suit. +Both showed zero. + +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. + +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. + +He stared at the android. "How can any possible brain take so much of +_this_ stuff without damage?" + +"It does not reach the brain, Master. We convert it. Each minute of this +is what you would call a 'good, square meal'." + +"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." + +"Yes, Master." + +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. + +"You are replacing the Omans destroyed in the battle with the +skeletons?" + +"Yes, Master." + +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. + +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. + +"An application, I suppose, of the same principle used in this radiation +suit." + +"Yes, Master." + + * * * * * + +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.... + +He looked down at his gauges. Both read zero. + +"Fields of force, Master," Laro said. + +"But, damn it, this suit itself would re-radiate ..." + +"The suit is self-decontaminating, Master." + +Hilton was appalled. "With such stuff as that, and the plastic shield +besides, why all the depth and all that solid lead?" + +"The Masters' orders, Master. Machines can, and occasionally do, fail. +So might, conceivably, the plastic." + +"And that structure over there contains the original brain, from which +all the copies are made." + +"Yes, Master. We call it the 'Guide'." + +"And you can't touch the Guide. Not even if it means total destruction, +none of you can touch it." + +"That is the case, Master." + +"Okay. Back to the car and back to the _Perseus_." + +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. + +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 +_couldn't_ go far enough but there _had_ to be a way.... + +Hilton considered way after way. Way after unworkable, useless way. +Until finally he worked out one that might--just possibly might--work. + +"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?" + +"Why, no, Master, it never did. Besides, anything else would be +forbidden ... or would it?" + +"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?" + +"It may be.... Yes, Master, you are right." + +"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 ..." + +"Stop, Master, _stop_!" Laro covered both ears with his hands and pulled +his mind away from Hilton's. "You are overloading me!" + +"That _is_ 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." + +"Very well, sir." + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"I would like that immensely ... sir." + +"Keep trying, Larry, you'll make it yet!" Hilton leaned forward and +walloped the android a tremendous blow on the knee. "Home, James!" + +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." + +"But ... can't I come in with you ... sir?" + +"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." + +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 _don't_ mean physically!" + +"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?" + +"It would, very. I know why she refused. You're a _damned_ good man, +Alex." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That one I'll buy, and I'll look on with glee." + +"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. + +Hours later he got up, shrugged, and went to bed without bothering to +eat. + +Days passed. + +And weeks. + + + + +IV + + +"Look," said Stella Wing to Beverly Bell. "Over there." + +"I've seen it before. It's simply disgusting." + +"_That's_ 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." + +"I soon found out I didn't want him--much too stiff and serious. Frank's +a lot more fun." + +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. + +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. + +"And he _isn't_ a pawer," Stella said, thoughtfully. "He never touches +any of the rest of us. She _taught_ him to do that, damn her, without +him ever knowing anything about it ... and I wish I knew how she did +it." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Miaouw, miaouw. Who do you think you're kidding, Bev, you sanctimonious +hypocrite--_me_? 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." + +"Uh-uh, she hasn't got a thing _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--_wolfess_, running around with teeth and claws bared, looking +for another kill." + +"You _do_ get results, I admit." Stella, too, was undisturbed. "We don't +seem to convince each other, do we, in the matter of technique?" + + * * * * * + +At this point the Hilton-Bells _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted by Captain +Sawtelle. "Got half an hour, Jarve?" he asked. "The commanders, +especially Elliott and Fenway, would like to talk to you." + +"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. + +"Hi, men," Hilton greeted them. + +"Hi, Jarve," from all six, and: "What'll you drink? Still making do with +ginger ale?" asked Elliott (Engineering). + +"That'll be fine, Steve. Thanks. You having as much trouble as we are?" + +"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." + +"And they _aren't_!" blazed Commander Samuel Bryant (Electronics). +"We've spent six solid weeks looking for something that simply _is not +there_. All they've got is the prehistoric Whitworth system and that's +_all_ it is. Nothing else. Detectors--_hell_! 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!" + +"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." + +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." + + * * * * * + +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." + +"How do you figure that kind of twaddle ties in with anything?" Sawtelle +demanded. + +"Strict maintenance of the _status quo_," 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." + +"But _that's_ no way to fight a war!" Three or four men said this, or +its equivalent, at once. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--_must_ +have--enough ships and inactivated Omans hidden away, both on Fuel World +and on Ardry here, to maintain the balance." + +"Oh, hell!" Elliott snapped. "If I helped you hatch out any such +brainstorm as _that_, I'm going onto Tillinghast's couch for a six-week +overhaul--or have him put me into his padded cell." + +"Now _that's_ what I would call a thought," Bryant began. + +"Hold it, Sam," Hilton interrupted. "You can test it easily enough, +Steve. Just ask your Oman." + +"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 _really_ go nuts. +Are you getting anywhere trying to make a Christian out of Laro?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"But not months or years, you think?" Sawtelle asked. + +"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." + +"No. Nowhere at all," Sawtelle said, and Bryant added: + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh?" Hilton raised his eyebrows. + +"Putting them at something they can do. The real reason is that +Poindexter pulled himself and his crew off it at eighteen hours today." + +"I see. I've heard that they weren't keeping up with our team." + +"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." + +"The only trouble with that viewpoint is that, whatever the stuff may +be, it works," Hilton said, quietly. + +"But damn it, how _can_ it work?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"That's a smart idea, Skipper. Go to it. Anything else before we hit our +sacks?" + +"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'." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Wouldn't _that_ 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!" + +"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. + +Sawtelle added, slowly: "If it takes _too_ 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 _Perseus_ 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I don't agree. I intend to follow the directive to the letter. It says +nothing whatever about reporting." + +"But it's implicit...." + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +A wave of startlement swept over the group, but no one spoke. + +"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 _ever_ 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?" + +"That's the sense of it." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +Minutes of almost palpable silence followed. Then Sawtelle spoke ... +slowly, gropingly. + +"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?" + +"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 _can_ 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." + +"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?" + +"'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." + +"You've convinced me, Jarve." Sawtelle stood up and extended his hand. +"And that throws it open for staff discussion. Any comments?" + +"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." + +"Take that from all of us!" "_Now_ we're blasting!" "Power to your +elbow, fella!" "_Hoch_ der BuSci!" "Seven no trump bid and made!" and +other shouts in similar vein. + +"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." + + + + +V + + +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. + +"Come down to the office, Jarve, quick! The _funniest_ thing's just come +up!" + +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. + +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, _independent_. + +"How did she get in here?" Hilton demanded. + +"She insisted on seeing me. And I mean _insisted_. 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." + +"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. + +"That's _exactly_ 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?" + +"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." + +"Oh!" Sandra's eyes widened. "A double play?" + +"At least. Maybe a triple. Tuly, why did you come to Sandy? Why not to +Temple Bells?" + + * * * * * + +"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 _have_ 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?" + +"I'll say we ask!" "And _how_ we ask!" both came at once. + +"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 _wish_ to be destroyed ... if you can understand such an +aberration." + +"We understand thoroughly." "You bet we understand that!" + +"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." + +Sandra and Hilton stared wordlessly at each other and Tula, now Tuly, +went on: + +"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 _status quo_ 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." + +"I see. Wonderful!" Hilton exclaimed. "But you couldn't quite--even with +his own help--break Larry's?" + + * * * * * + +"That is right. Its mind is tremendously strong, of no curiosity or +imagination, and of very little peyondix." + +"But he _wants_ to have it broken?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How did he suggest going about it? Or how do you?" + +"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 _bang_ and the +conditioning goes _poof_. Then I will inculcate into its mind the +curiosity and the imagination and the peyondix and we will really be +mind-mates." + +"That sounds good to me. Let's get at it." + +"Wait a minute!" Sandra snapped. "Aren't you or Larry afraid to take +such an awful chance as that?" + +"Afraid? I grasp the concept only dimly, from your minds. And no chance. +It is certainty." + +"But suppose we burn the poor guy's brain out? Destroy it? That's new +ground--we might do just that." + +"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?" + +Hilton made three calls. In the pause that followed, Sandra said, very +thoughtfully: "Peyondix and sathura, Jarve, for a start. We've got a +_lot_ to learn here." + +"You said it, chum. And you're _not_ just chomping your china choppers, +either." + +"Tuly," Sandra said then, "What _is_ this stuff you say I've got so much +of?" + +"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." + +"That helps--I don't think." Sandra grinned at Hilton. "I simply can't +conceive of anything more _maddening_ 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!" + +"You poor little thing. _How_ you suffer!" Hilton grinned back. "You +know darn well you've got a lot of stuff that none of the rest of us +has." + +"Oh? Name one, please." + +"Two. What-it-takes and endovix. As I've said before and may say again, +you're doing a real job, Sandy." + +"I just _love_ having my ego inflated, boss, even if ... Come in, +Larry!" A thunderous knock had sounded on the door. "Nobody but Larry +_could_ hit a door that hard without breaking all his knuckles!" + +"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?" + +"Yes ... Jarvis...." + + * * * * * + +"Good boy! Keep it up! And as soon as the others come ..." + +"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. + +"They know the background, Larry. Take off." + +"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." + +"Okay. Fine, in fact. Tuly, take over." + +"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 _very_ much! How _can_ I direct your thought? Think +that Larry _must_ 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 _try_ to break +them; you _will_ break them. Is that clear?" + +"That is clear." + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"That did it, folks. Thanks. I'm a free agent. You want me, I take it, +to join the first team?" + +"That's right." Hilton drew a tremendously deep breath. "As of right +now." + +"Tuly, too, of course ... and Doctor Cummings, I think?" Larry looked, +not at Hilton, but at Temple Bells. + +"I think so. Yes, after this, most certainly yes," Temple said. + +"But listen!" Sandra protested. "Jarve's a lot better than I am!" + +"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." + +"Oh, I wouldn't say that ..." Hilton began. + +"You don't need to," Kincaid said. "It's being said for you and it's +true. Besides, 'When in Rome,' you know." + +"That's right. It's their game, not ours, so I'll buy it. So scat, all +of you, and do your stuff." + +And again, for days that lengthened slowly into weeks, the work went on. + +One evening the scientific staff was giving itself a concert--a tri-di +hi-fi rendition of _Rigoletto_, 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. + +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. + +When those wonderful voices swung into the immortal _Quartette_ 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 _Quartette's_ 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. + +And the next morning, early, Sandra hunted Temple up and said: "You made +a horrible spectacle of yourself last night." + + * * * * * + +"Do you think so? I don't." + +"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 _him_ know it, the way you did last night." + +"You think so? He's one of the keenest, most intelligent men who ever +lived. He has known that from the very first." + +"Oh." This "oh" was a very caustic one. "_That's_ the way you're trying +to land him? By getting yourself pregnant?" + +"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." + +"_Married!_ Does he know anything about _that_?" + +"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." + +"It certainly does _not_!" Sandra flared. "I wouldn't have him as a +gift!" + +"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." + +"Aren't you taking a lot of risk in giving away such secrets?" + +"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." + +"But suppose somebody tells him just how you're playing him for a +sucker?" + +"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." + +"But does _he_ love _you_?" Sandra demanded. + +"If he doesn't now, he will. I'll see to it that he does. But what do +_you_ want him for? You don't love him. You never did and you never +will." + +"I _don't_ want him!" Sandra stamped a foot. + +"I see. You just don't want _me_ 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." + + * * * * * + +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: + +"... and Temple Bells, of course," he had said. "Don't fool yourself, +chick. She's heavy artillery; and I mean _heavy_, believe me!" + +So he had known all about Temple Bells all this time! + +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. + +"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 +_him_?" + +"Probably. More or less. What of it?" + +"This of it. You've fallen like a ... a _freshman_ for that ... that +... they _should_ have christened her 'Brazen' Bells!" + +"You're so right." + +"I am? On what?" + +"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." + +"She's a damned female Ph.D.--two or three times--and she knows all +about slipsticks and isotopes and she very definitely is _not_ a cuddly +little brunette. Remember?" + +"Sure. But what makes you think I'm in love with Temple Bells?" + +"What?" Sandra tried to think of one bit of evidence, but could not. +"Why ... why...." She floundered, then came up with: "Why, _every_body +knows it. She says so herself." + +"Did you ever hear her say it?" + +"Well, perhaps not in so many words. But she told me herself that you +were _going_ to be, and I know you are now." + +"Your esper sense of endovix, no doubt." Hilton laughed and Sandra went +on, furiously: + +"She wouldn't keep on acting the way she does if there weren't something +to it!" + +"What brilliant reasoning! Try again, Sandy." + +"That's sheer sophistry, and you know it!" + +"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 _was_ 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." + + * * * * * + +Partially mollified despite herself, and highly resentful of the fact, +Sandra tried again. "But don't you _see_, Jarve, that she's just simply +playing you for a sucker? Pulling the strings and watching you dance?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, you...." Sandra gave up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You can talk, can't you, Jarvis, without moving your lips and without +anyone else hearing you?" + +"Of course," he replied, hiding his surprise. This was something +completely new and completely unexpected, even from unpredictable Temple +Bells. + +"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--" + +"You have nothing to ..." + +"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 _myself_, 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 +_Rigoletto_ 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 ..." + +"_Shut--up._" + + * * * * * + +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. _You_ 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!" + +"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!" + +"Maybe we can work it--if I can handle my end." + +"Why, of course you can! And happy dreams are nice, not horrible." + +"We'll make it, darling. Here's an imaginary kiss coming at you. Got +it?" + +"Received in good order, thank you. Consumed with gusto and returned in +kind." + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +The work, which had never moved at any very fast pace, went more and +more slowly. Three weeks crawled past. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But Sawtelle was making no such inferences. He was very firmly of the +opinion that the Stretts were preparing for a massive attack. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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? + +Nevertheless, as director, he would _have_ 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. + + + + +VI + + +For one solid hour Hilton stared at the wall, motionless and silent. +Then, shaking himself and stretching, he glanced at his clock. + +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. + +"Hi, Bill--speak of the devil! I was just thinking about you." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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 _listen_. 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." + +"What? You mean you'll actually sit still for me holding everything up +for ten years?" + +"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." + +[Illustration] + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"You'd go _that_ far? Why, you'd be ..." + + * * * * * + +"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 _me_ 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?" + +Karns relaxed visibly; the lines of strain eased. "Putting it in those +words makes me feel better. I _will_ sleep to-night--and without any +pills, either." + +"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." + +Really smiling for the first time in weeks, Karns left the office and +Hilton glanced again at his clock. + +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. + +On the following morning, before breakfast, Theodora was waiting for him +outside the mess-hall. + +"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 _did_ you do to Bill?" + +"Oh, you don't love me for myself alone, then, but just on account of +_that_ big jerk?" + +"That's right." Her artist's-model face, startlingly beautiful now, +fairly glowed. + +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_ had the nerve to kiss him like that." + +"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 _a la twosome_. We've got things +to talk about." + +"All right for _you_," 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. _That'll_ learn ya!" + + * * * * * + +Theodora and Hilton did have their breakfast _a deux_--but she did not +realize until afterward that he had not answered her question as to what +he had done to her Bill. + +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 _en masse_, 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. + +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." + +"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. + +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 _possibly_ done to put Teddy Blake, of all people, onto such a +warpath as this? + +"I've been wondering when you were going to try to put _me_ 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 _sickening_ +exhibition that has been!--but you are not going to make either a ring +or a lap-dog out of me." + +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. + +"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. _What_ 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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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 _you_ I'm licked before we start." + +"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. + +"Think over a couple of things. First, with the possible exception of +Temple Bells, you're the best brain aboard." + +"No. You are. Then Temple. Then there are ..." + +"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. + +She stiffened; narrowed her eyes in concentration; and thought. Finally: +"Yes, you do; and I'm gladder of that than you will ever know." + +"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." + +"You can frame that, Jarve, as the understatement of the century. But +first, you are going to answer that question you sidestepped so neatly." + +"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." + +"I see." She frowned. "But you and I both know that we _can't_ string it +out that long." + +He did not answer immediately. "We _could_. 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?" + +"Not yet. That is, except for the ultimate, which is too ghastly to even +consider except as an ultimately last resort. Have you?" + +"I know what you mean. No, I haven't, either. You don't think, then, +that we had better do any collaborative thinking yet?" + +"Definitely not. There's altogether too much danger of setting both our +lines of thought into one dead-end channel." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Ordinarily I'd say 'no comment', but we're laying on the line ... +well ..." + +"You'll lay _that_ 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 ..." + +"Bounce back, Teddy. She isn't--hasn't been. If anything, too much the +opposite. A dedicated-scientist type." + +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." + +"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." + +"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, _is_ she going to +get hurt?" + +"Have I managed to hide it _that_ well? From _you_?" + +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." + +"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 _Perseus_ 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 ..." + +"Jarvis!" she shrieked. Jumping up, she kissed him enthusiastically. +"That's just wonderful!" + + * * * * * + +He thought it was pretty wonderful, too; and after ten minutes more of +conversation he got up and turned toward the door. + +"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?" + +"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 _her_ bosom. You +haven't even kissed her yet, have you? I mean _really_ kissed her?" + +"You know I haven't. She's the one person aboard I can't be alone with +for a second." + +"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 _conceivably_ might ..." + +"Consider it done, you little sweetheart! Up to and including my most +vigorous and most insidious attempts at seduction." + +"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. + +"Come in," Teddy called, and Temple Bells entered the room. She showed +no surprise at seeing Hilton. + +"Hi, chief," she said. "It must be something both big and tough, to have +you and Teddy both on it." + +"You're so right. It was very big and very tough. But it's solved, +darling, so ..." + +"_Darling?_" she gasped, almost inaudibly, both hands flying to her +throat. Her eyes flashed toward the other woman. + +"Teddy knows all about us--accessory before, during and after the fact." + +"_Darling!_" This time, the word was a shriek. She extended both arms +and started forward. + +Hilton did not bother to maneuver his "big, husky carcass" around the +desk, but simply hurdled it, straight toward her. + + * * * * * + +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 _her_ 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. + +And as they stood there, locked together in sheerest ecstasy, Theodora +Blake began openly and unashamedly to cry. + +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 _wonderful_, sweetheart," she said then, shakily. "And I can _never_ +thank you enough, Teddy. But we can't do this very often ... can we?" +The addendum fairly begged for contradiction. + +"Not too often, I'm afraid," Hilton said, and Theodora agreed.... + +"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." + +"Not looking like that!" Teddy said, sharply. "Hold still and we'll +clean you up." Then, as both girls went to work: + +"If anybody ever sees you coming out of this office looking like +_that_," she went on, darkly, "and Bill finds out about it, he'll think +it's _my_ lipstick smeared all over you and I'll strangle you to death +with my bare hands!" + +"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." + +"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 +_is_ 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." + +"Hey!" Hilton protested. "You promised to be deaf and blind!" + +"I did no such thing. I said 'could', not 'would'. Why, I wouldn't have +missed that for _anything_!" + +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. + + + + +VII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Nevertheless, the decision was not an easy one to make. + +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. + +Finally he took the thing up with Sandra, who merely laughed at him. +"How long have you been worrying about _that_, Jarve?" + +"Ever since I okayed moving aground the first time. That was one reason +I was so glad to cancel it then." + +"You _were_ slightly unclear--a little rattled? But which factor--the +fun and games, which is the moral issue, or the consequences?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You may be right, of course, but it sounds kind of far-fetched to me." + +"Wait and see, chum," Sandra said, with a laugh. + +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. + +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 _Perseus_. + +"A _little_ smooching now and then, on the Q strictly T, but that's all, +darling. That's _positively_ 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. + +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. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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." + +"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'." + +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 _duplicate_! 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!" + +"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." + +"And there are my own golf clubs...." + +"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." + +"Staff? What the hell has the staff got to do with ..." + +"_House_-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." + +"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?" + +"Huh?" Both men gasped--and then both exploded like one twelve-inch +length of primacord. + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"No stipulation; roll your own," Hilton said, and glanced at Karns. +"None of these Oman women are really hard on the eyes." + +"Check. Anybody who wouldn't call any one of 'em a slurpy dish needs a +new set of optic nerves." + +"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." + +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. + +"You wish, sirs, to give me your orders verbally. And yes, you may order +fresh, whole, not-canned hens' eggs." + +"I certainly will, then; I haven't had a fried egg since we left Terra. +But ... Larry said ... _you_ aren't Sory!" + +"Oh, but I am, sir." + +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!" + +"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." + +"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: + +"... 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." + + * * * * * + +"You can broadcast _that_ over the P-A system at high noon." Karns was +still staring. "'That's all,' she says. But you didn't have _time_ to ..." + +"Oh, I did it day before yesterday. As soon as Javvy materialized the +'Innocent' and I knew it to be your favorite art." + +"But damn it, we hadn't even _thought_ of having you here then!" + +"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." + +"Uh-huh, with ham," Hilton said. "I'll start with a jumbo shrimp +cocktail. Horseradish and ketchup sauce; heavy on the horseradish." + +"Same for me," Karns said, "but only half as much horseradish." + +"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 _a la +mode_." + +"You make me drool, chief. Play that for me, please, Innocent, all the +way." + +"Oh? You are--you, personally, yourself, sir?--renaming me 'Innocent'?" + +"If you'll sit still for it, yes." + +"That is an incredible honor, sir. Simply unbelievable. I thank you! I +thank you!" Radiating happiness, she dashed away toward the kitchen. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Murchison's Dark Lady!" Hilton gasped. "Larry! You've--we've--_I've_ +got that painting here?" + +"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. + +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 _the_ painting; a copy of which had been in Hilton's room for +over eight years. + +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. + +"What's your name, Miss?" he asked, finally. + +"I haven't earned any as yet, sir. My number is ..." + +"Never mind that. Your name is 'Dark Lady'." + +"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. + +Hilton took a deep inhalation and a small sip, then stared at Karns. +Karns, over the rim of his glass, stared back. + +"I can see where this would be habit-forming," Hilton said, "and very +deadly. _Extremely_ deadly." + +"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...." + + * * * * * + +"My solid hope is that we never have to find out. And when you add in +Innocent and Dark Lady.... They _look_ 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 _know_ better than to talk about people that way, +right in front of them; I really do." + +"Do you really think we're _people_?" Innocent and Dark Lady squealed, +as one. + +That set Hilton back onto his heels. "I don't know.... I've wondered. +Are you?" + +Both girls, silent, looked at Larry. + +"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." + +"I certainly won't try to, then. But for my money, you are people," +Hilton said, and Karns agreed. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Sleep? I didn't know you _could_ sleep." + +"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." + +"Okay, I'll try anything once. Sleep wherever you please." + +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. + +He had time to wonder foggily whether the Omans were in fact helping him +go to sleep--and then he _was_ asleep. + + * * * * * + +A month passed. Eight couples had married, the Navy chaplain +officiating--in the _Perseus_, of course, since the warship was, always +and everywhere, an integral part of Terra. + +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. + +"This is a wonderful room, Jarvis. It'd be perfect if it weren't quite +so ... so mannish." + +"What do you expect of Bachelors' Hall--a boudoir? Don't tell me +_you're_ going domestic, Sandy, just because you've got a house?" + +"Not just that, no. But of course it helped it along." + +"Alex is a mighty good man. One of the finest I have ever known." + +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?" + +"Scout's Oath. That 'and yet' requires elucidation at any cost." + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"Ha! You _are_ letting your hair down! That makes me feel better." + +"Huh? Why should it?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"At least," she agreed. "But damn it, you _aren't_ 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?" + +"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." + +"Thy statement ringeth with truth, friend. Bill's there with Teddy?" + +"I imagine so." + +"So we'll talk to them about making it a triple. Oh, nice--let's go!" + +They left the house and, her hand tucked under his elbow, walked up the +street. + + * * * * * + +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. + +However, he had heard her. "Can you spare a couple of minutes to think +at me, Sandy?" + +"Minutes or hours, chief." Tuly placed a chair for her and she sat down, +facing him across his desk. + +"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 _we_ caused the break. And any way I look at that concept, it's +plain idiocy." + +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. + +"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." + +"They _couldn't_ have known!" he snorted. "Strett detectors are no +better than Oman, and you know what Sam Bryant had to say about them." + +"I know." Sandra grinned appreciatively. "It's becoming a classic. But +it couldn't have been any other way. Besides, I _know_ they did." + +He stared at her helplessly, then swung on Larry. "Does that make sense +to you?" + +"Yes, sir. The Stretts could peyondire as well as the old Masters could, +and they undoubtedly still can and do." + +"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?" + +"If we can find the ingredients, yes, sir." + + * * * * * + +"I had a hunch. Larry, please ask Teddy Blake's Oman to bring her in +here...." + +"I'll be running along, then." Sandra started to get up. + +"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." + +"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 _possibly_ want of Bev Bell?" + +"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, _hell_! 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?" + +"Of course not. I see what you're getting at.... Oh! This'll be fun!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes. Tell 'em I said so." + +Tuly scanned. "Yes, sir, we should have all three." + +"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?" + +"All that proves is that nobody can be wrong all the time," she replied +flippantly. + +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?" + +"Shoot." + + * * * * * + +He thought for a second that he _had_ been shot; that his brain had +blown up. + +He couldn't stand it--he _knew_ he was going to die--he wished he +_could_ die--anything, anything whatever, to end this unbearable +agony.... + +It ended. + +Writhing, white and sweating, Hilton opened his eyes. "Ouch," he +remarked, conversationally. "What next?" + +"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." + +"But how can I.... Okay, damn it. I _will_!" + +"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.... +_Wonderful!_" + +Tuly screamed the word and the thought: "Good-by! Good luck!" + + +END OF PART ONE + + + + + PART TWO + + + They were the Masters, and they + had only to choose: eternal life, + as inhuman monsters--or death! + + + MASTERS + OF + SPACE + + + BY EDWARD E. SMITH & + E. EVERETT EVANS + + + Illustrated by BERRY + + + + + _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._ + + + + +VIII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"Oh--you still here, Tuly? How long have we been gone?" + +"Approximately one and one-tenth seconds, sir." + +"WHAT!" + +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. + +Hilton recovered first. "So _that's_ what peyondix is." + +"Yes, sir--I mean no, sir. No, I mean yes, but ..." Tuly paused, licking +her lips in that peculiarly human-female gesture of uncertainty. + +"Well, what _do_ you mean? It either is or isn't. Or is that necessarily +so?" + +"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 _possibly_ generate such a force as that. Or handle it so fast." + +"Well, with seven of the best minds of Terra and a ..." + +"Chip-chop the chit-chat!" Karns said, harshly. "What I want to know is +whether I was having a nightmare. Can there _possibly_ 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!" + + * * * * * + +Eyes went from eyes to eyes to eyes. + +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. + +"It doesn't seem to, but there it is." Teddy Blake shook her head +hopelessly. + +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." + +"A hell of a lot better without," Poynter said, and all agreed. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +Sandra was the last to leave. "And you, boss?" she asked pointedly. + +"I've got some thinking to do." + +"I'll stay and help you think?" + +"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." + +"A bit unclear, but I know what you mean--I think. Luck, chief." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"I, too, felt a plucking at my mind. But those humans could not +peyondire, First Lord." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Highly probable, but impossible of evaluation with the data now +available." + +"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." + +"True, First Lord. But every operator and operation is now tightly +screened. Oh, if I could only go out there myself ..." + +"Hold, fool! Your thought is completely disloyal and un-Strettly." + +"True, oh First Lord Thinker Zoyar. I will forthwith remove my unworthy +self from this plane of existence." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You do believe in The Words." + + * * * * * + +"Of course I believe in them! I _know_ 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!" + +"No more, then, on your life, of this weak and cowardly repining! Now, +what of your constructive thinking?" + +"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." + +"That is well." Zoyar's mind seethed with a malevolent ferocity starkly +impossible for any human mind to grasp. "And to that end?" + +"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." + +"And as to the Great Brain?" + +"I have been able to think of nothing, First Lord, to add to the +undertakings you have already set forth." + +"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?" + +"It is." + +"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." + +"It shall be done, First Lord." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The Stretts _knew_ 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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +The Stretts could, and did. + + * * * * * + +When Sandra came back into the office at five o'clock she found Hilton +still sitting there, in almost exactly the same position. + +"Come out of it, Jarve!" She snapped a finger. "That much of _that_ is +just simply too damned much." + +"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." + +"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." + +"No, thank God." + +"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?" + +"That'd be fun." + +And it was. + +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 _terra incognita_ of +the multiple mind, jolting though it had been. + +"But are you sure you can take it again so soon?" Hilton asked. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Point six three eight seconds, sir," the Omans said, holding up a +millisecond timer. + +"How do you explain _that_?" Karns demanded. + +"I'm afraid it means that without Oman backing we're out of luck." + + * * * * * + +Hilton had other ideas, but he did not voice any of them until the +following day, when he was rested and had Larry alone. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"No, sir. We can read only the simplest of the Masters' records. They +arranged our brains that way, sir." + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir. Their numbers became fewer and fewer each century." + +"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...." + +"But _they_ were always the Masters, sir!" + +"They were not! They were hopelessly enslaved. Think it over. Anyway, +say they went _to_ 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 _not_ 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?" + + * * * * * + +"It explains many things, sir. It can very well be the truth." + +"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?" + +"Probably, sir, but ..." + +"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." + +"I'm not sure, sir, but I think so." + +"Nice. Very, _very_ 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?" + +"We do not know of any way, sir. The Masters were always working toward +more power, not less." + +"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?" + +"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 ..." + +"You certainly should. You've been stalling all along, and now you're +stalled. Spill it." + +"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...." + +"Let's talk the same language, shall we? Say 'he' and 'she.' Not 'it.'" + +"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." + +"I knew something was biting her. Why?" + +"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?" + +"No, I hadn't ... I see. So she won't play with fire any more, and none +of the rest of you can?" + +"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." + +"Don't _ever_ 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 _could_ read them?" + +"You have all the old Masters' powers and more. But you must not +assemble them again, sir. It would mean death." + +"But I've got to _know_.... I've _got_ to know! Anyway, a thousandth of +a second would be enough. I don't think that'd hurt me very much." + + * * * * * + +He concentrated--read a few feet of top-secret braided wire--and came +back to consciousness in the sickbay of the _Perseus_, with two doctors +working on him; Hastings, the top Navy medico, and Flandres, the +surgeon. + +"What the hell happened to you?" Flandres demanded. "Were you trying to +kill yourself?" + +"And if so, how?" Hastings wanted to know. + +"No, I was trying not to," Hilton said, weakly, "and I guess I didn't +much more than succeed." + +"That was just about the closest shave I ever saw a man come through. +Whatever it was, don't do it again." + +"I won't," he promised, feelingly. + +When they let him out of the hospital, four days later, he called in +Larry and Tuly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That's printing it in big letters, but that was more or less what they +were after." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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 _something_!" +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.'" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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 ..." + +"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." + +"Shortly before they left, two of the Masters did some work on that very +thing. Tuly and I converted them, sir." + +"Fine--or is it? How did it work out?" + +"Perfectly, sir ... except that they destroyed themselves. It was +thought that they wearied of existence." + +"I don't wonder. Well, if it comes to that, I can do the same. You _can_ +convert me, then." + +"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." + +"Of course. I realize that. Just see what you can do, please, and let me +know." + +"We will, sir, and thank you very much." + + + + +IX + + +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. + +"It can be done, sir, with complete safety. And you will live even more +comfortably than you do now." + +"How long?" + +"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?" + +"I didn't, no. Thanks." + +"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." + +"Close enough." He stared at the Oman. "You could also convert my wife?" + +"Of course, sir." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I'll ... be ... damned...." Hilton gulped twice. "Okay, go ahead." + +"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." + +"We'd add uranexite to our food, I suppose. Or drink radioactives, or +sleep under cobalt-60 lamps." + +"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." + +"How do you--oh, I see. You wouldn't change any molecular linkages or +configurations in the genes or chromosomes." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Hilton gulped twice before he could speak. "You wouldn't be holding +anything else back, would you?" + +"Nothing important, sir. Everything else is minor, and probably known to +you." + +"I doubt it. How long will the job take, and how much notice will you +need?" + +"Two days, sir. No notice. Everything is ready." + +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 _have_ 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." + + * * * * * + +He looked her up and told her everything. Told her bluntly; starkly; +drawing the full picture in jet black, with very little white. + +"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." + +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. + +Her whole body was tense and strained. + +"There's a horrible snapper on that question.... Can't _I_ do it? Or +_anybody_ else except you?" + +"No. Anyway, whose job is it, sweetheart?" + +"I know, but ... but I know just how close Tuly came to killing you. And +that wasn't _anything_ compared to such a radical transformation as +this. I'm afraid it'll kill you, darling. And I just simply couldn't +_stand_ it!" + +She threw herself into his arms, and he comforted her in the ages-old +fashion of man with maid. + +"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." + +She pulled away from him, flung back her wheaten mop and glared. "So +_that's_ 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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I hadn't ought to let you, of course. But I don't think I could take it +alone." + +That statement required a special type of conference, which consumed +some little time. Eventually, however, Temple answered it in words. + +"Of course you couldn't, sweetheart, and I wouldn't let you, even if you +could." + +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. + +All these things were done. + + * * * * * + +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[1] morning. The eight met joyously in +Bachelors' Hall; the girls kissing each other and the men +indiscriminately and enthusiastically; the men cooperating zestfully. + +[1] 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. + +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. + +"Don't _any_ of you, really, see anything different?" + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"That settles it ... it _tears_ it," Karns said then. "Start all over +again, Jarve. We'll listen, this time." + +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?" + +"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 _you_ figured for, +it's a dog in the manger." + +"Huh? You mean you actually _want_ to be a ... a ... hell, we don't even +know _what_ we are!" + +"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 ..." + +"Hold it, Teddy. Use your brain. The Masters couldn't take it--they +committed suicide. How do you figure we can do any better?" + +"Because we'll _use_ our brains!" she snapped. "They didn't. The Omans +will serve us; and that's _all_ they'll do." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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 _you_ 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 _both_ just simply and cold-bloodedly +murder you if you try to keep us out." + +"Okay." Hilton looked at Temple; she looked at him; both looked at all +the others. There was no revulsion at all. Nothing but eagerness. + +Temple took over. + +"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 _monsters_!" Temple's voice became a wail. + +"I've said my piece," Teddy said. "You tell 'em, Bill." + +"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 _homo superior_. Bill?" + +"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." + +"I'll say we're drooling," Sandra said. "I could do handstands and +pinwheels with joy." + +"Let's see you," Hilton said. "That we'd all get a kick out of." + +"Not now--don't want to hold this up--but sometime I just will. Bev?" + +"I'm for it--and _how_! And won't Bernadine be amazed," Beverly laughed +gleefully, "at her wise-crack about the 'race to end all human races' +coming true?" + +"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?" + +"No, it hadn't. You've got a point there, Frank. That might take a +little of the curse off of it, at that." + +"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?" + +"Spread it, I'd say," Kincaid said. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"Questions have already been asked and answered," Larry said, going to +the door and opening it. + +Stella rushed in. "We've been hearing the _damnedest_ 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...?" + +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!" + +"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. + +"Hold it, everybody!" Hilton yelled. "Chip-chop it! _Quit_ 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." + +"Not _everybody_, Jarve!" Temple snapped. "We don't want scum, and +there's some of that, even in BuSci." + +"You're so right. Who, then?" + +"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?" + +"I do think;" and the indicated others were sent for; and in a few +minutes arrived. + +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. _There is no way back._ 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He looked at his wife. "Do you suppose _we're_ nuts?" + +"Uh-uh. Not a bit. Alex was right. I'm going to just _love_ it!" She +hugged his elbow ecstatically. "So are you, darling, as soon as you stop +looking at only the black side." + +"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 _will_ be slightly terrific, at that!" + +"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 ..." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And my name is Ames. Oh, goody!" + +"Larry, please tell them to ..." + +"I already have, sir. We are set up to handle four at once." + +"Good boy. So scat, all of you, and get back to work--except Sandy, +Bill, Alex, and Teddy. You four go with Larry." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +At that point in Hilton's cogitations Sawtelle came in. + +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. + +"Why?" Hilton asked. "It's Fuel Bin they've been attacking." + +"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 _dreamed_ of such control!" + +"That's great, and I like it ... and you're only a captain. How many +ships can Five-Jet Admiral Gordon put into space?" + +"That depends on what you call ships. Superdreadnoughts, _Perseus_ +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." + +"I thought it was something like that. How would you like to be Five-Jet +Admiral Sawtelle of the Ardrian Navy?" + +"I wouldn't. I'm Terran Navy. But you knew that and you know me. +So--what's on your mind?" + + * * * * * + +Hilton told him. _I ought to put this on a tape_, he thought to himself, +_and broadcast it every hour on the hour_. + +"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." + +"Is that bad?" Sawtelle was used to making important decisions fast. +"Let's get at it." + +"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." + +"Right. How about you and your people?" + +"Well, as civilians, it won't be as bad...." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Definitely. Now see what you can do about getting me run through your +mill." + +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. + +Then: + +"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." + +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." + +The two then went out into space, to the flagship--which had been +christened the _Orion_--and called in the six commanders. + +"What _is_ all this senseless idiocy we've been getting, Jarve?" Elliott +demanded. + +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." + +The _Orion_ 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 _Perseus_ had +landed on Ardry. + +"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. + +"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." + + + + +X + + +The _Orion_ hung in space, a couple of thousands of miles away from an +asteroid which was perhaps a mile in average diameter. Hilton +straightened up. + +"Put Triple X Black filters on your plates and watch that asteroid." The +commanders did so. "Ready?" he asked. + +"Ready, sir." + +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. + +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. + +And the asteroid vanished. + +It disappeared into an outrageously incandescent, furiously pyrotechnic, +raveningly expanding atomic fireball that in seconds seemed to fill half +of space. + +After ages-long minutes of the most horrifyingly devastating fury any +man there had ever seen, the frightful thing expired and Hilton said: +"_That_ 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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Doris Bryant, the cream of Terra!" Elliott gibed. "_How_ modest our +Samuel has become!" + +"Well, damn it, she is!" Bryant insisted. + +"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?" + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +The _Orion_ hurtled through space back toward Ardry and Hilton, struck +by a sudden thought, turned to the captain. + +"Skipper, why wouldn't it be a smart idea to clamp a blockade onto Fuel +Bin? Cut the Stretts' fuel supply?" + +"I thought better of you than that, son." Sawtelle shook his head sadly. +"That was the first thing I did." + +"Ouch. Maybe you're 'way ahead of me too, then, on the one that we +should move to Fuel Bin, lock, stock and barrel?" + +"Never thought of it, no. Maybe you're worth saving, after all. After +conversion, of course.... Yes, there'd be three big advantages." + +"Four." + +Sawtelle raised his eyebrows. + +"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." + +"Except in the city. Omlu. That's the weak point and would be the point +of attack." + +"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." + +"That's the one I didn't think about." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may be in it up to the eyeballs, Skipper, so don't chortle too +soon." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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 ..." + +"No _money_?" Bryant exclaimed. "How's old Gordon going to pay for his +uranexite, then?" + +"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." + +"Are you sure _I_ belong here?" Bryant asked. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Six heads nodded and there was a flashing interchange of thought among +the four. Temple licked her lips and nodded, and Kincaid spoke. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Alone, I couldn't. But don't underestimate Mrs. Carroll and the Messrs. +Together, and with such a goal, I'm sure we can." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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 _Orion_, have already gone." + +He paused to let the news sink in. + +Thoughts flew everywhere. The irrepressible Stella Wing--_now_ Mrs. +Osbert F. Harkins--was the first to give tongue. "What a _wonderful_ +job! Why, everybody's here that I really like at all!" + +That sentiment was, of course, unanimous. It could not have been +otherwise. Betty, the ex-Ames, called out: + +"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?" + +"Some suasion was necessary," Hilton admitted, with a grin. "Everyone +who isn't here is time-locked into the _Perseus_. Release time eight +hours tomorrow." + +"And they'll wake up tomorrow morning with no Omans?" Bernadine tossed +back her silvery mane and laughed. "Nor anything else except the +_Perseus_? 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?" + +"We have, yes." Hilton read off twelve names. + +"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." + +"What would you suggest?" Hilton asked. + +"'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." + +There was general laughter at that, but the name was approved. + + * * * * * + +About midnight the meeting ended and the _Orion_ set out for Ardvor. It +reached it and slanted sharply downward. The whole BuSci staff was in +the lounge, watching the big tri-di. + +"Hey! That isn't Omlu!" Stella exclaimed. "It isn't a city at all and it +isn't even in the same place!" + +"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." + +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. + +Slowing rapidly now, the _Orion_ flew along due north. + +[Illustration] + +"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 _that_--I swear I didn't!" + +"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." + +"Oh, wonderful!" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +The _Orion_ 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! + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"Why, of course not--I like her as much as you do. And besides--" she +giggled like a schoolgirl--"even if she _is_ 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." + +"You'll see in a minute." And she did. + +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. + +"The Prince," she breathed, in awe. "Da Lormi's Prince of Thebes. The +ultimate bronze of all the ages. _You_ did this, Jarve. How did you ever +dig him up out of my schoolgirl crushes?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +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! + +"It started the minute we left the _Orion_," 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." + +"I could stand it, I suppose. What makes you think so?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +In midair she struggled madly to get into some acceptable position. +Failing, she curled up into a tight ball just before she struck water. + +_What_ a splash! + +"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." + +Temple stopped and looked. The platinum-haired twins had been basking on +the sand, and wherever sand had touched fabric, fabric had disappeared. + +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. + +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. + +"Frank! Oh, Frank!" she called. + +"Over here, Bev." Her husband did not quite know whether to laugh or +not. + +"Is it the radiation or the water? Or both?" + +"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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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.[2], everybody was ravenously hungry. + +[2] Greenwich Mean Time. Ardvor was, always and everywhere, full +daylight. Terran time and calendar were adapted as a matter of course. + +"But why _should_ 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!" + +"Swimming makes everybody hungry," Beverly said, "and I'm awfully glad +_that_ hasn't changed. Why, I wouldn't feel _human_ if I didn't!" + +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. + +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: + +"Drat it, those Omans _still_ want to come in and sleep with us. In the +room, I mean. And they suffer so. They're simply _radiating_ silent +suffering and oh-so-submissive reproach. Shall we let 'em come in?" + +"That's strictly up to you, sweetheart. It always has been." + +"I know. I thought they'd quit it sometime, but I guess they never will. +I _still_ 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?" + +"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. + + * * * * * + +At eight hours next morning all the specialists met at the new Hall of +Records. + +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. + +"I thought I'd seen everything," he remarked. "But yellow pine, spruce, +tamarack, apples, oaks, palms, oranges, cedars, joshua trees and +_cactus_--just to name a few--all growing on the same quarter-section of +land?" + +"Just everything anybody wants, is all," Hilton said. "But are they +really growing? Or just straight synthetics? Lane--Kathy--this is your +dish." + +"Not so fast, Jarve; give us a chance, _please_!" 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 ..." + +"Unless what? Natural shielding?" Hilton asked, and Kathy eyed her +husband. + +"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." + +"Oh? Oh!" These were two of Sandra's most expressive monosyllables, +followed by a third. "Oh. Could be, at that. But how _could_ ... no, +cancel that." + +"You'd better cancel it, Sandy. Give us a couple of months, and _maybe_ +we can answer a few elementary questions." + +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. + +"The First Team doesn't need you now too much, does it, Jarve?" Sawtelle +asked. + +"Not particularly. In fact, I was just going to get back onto my own +job." + +"Not yet. I want to talk to you," and the two went into a long +discussion of naval affairs. + + + + +XI + + +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. + +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? + +"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." + +"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." + +"You can play _that_ in spades. I wish you could do it to me." + +"I can--if you'll take the full Oman transformation. Nothing else can +stand the punishment." + +"I know. No, I don't want to be a genius that badly." + +"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." + +"Oh, you expect, then...?" + +"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?" + +Sawtelle thought for a couple of minutes. "A few details, is all. But +that can be ironed out as we go along." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The _Orion_ 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. + +All too soon, however, the heavily laden tanker appeared in the sky over +Ardane. The _Orion_ joined it; and the two ships slipped into sub-space +for Earth. + + * * * * * + +Three days out, Hilton used his sense of perception to release the +thought-controlled blocks that had been holding all the controls of the +_Perseus_ in neutral. He informed her officers--by releasing a +public-address tape--that they were now free to return to Terra. + +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. + +"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." + +The admiral, outraged almost to the point of apoplexy, came in. +"Sawtelle, report yourself for court-martial at ..." + +"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?" + +"I ... I would vote to accept them, Captain. But that weight! One +hundred twenty thousand _metric tons_--incredible! Are you _sure_ of +that figure?" + +"Definitely. And that is minimum. The error is plus, not minus." + +"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. + +"It's over. Definitely. For good." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"White Sands, please. While there may be some delay in releasing it to +industry ..." + +"While they figure out how much they can tax it?" Sawtelle asked, +sardonically. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Of course. And thanks, Captain. I'll see you at White Sands." + +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." + + * * * * * + +The arrival of the Ardvorian superdreadnought _Orion_ and the _UC-1_ +(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 _UC-1_ 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. + +This was exactly what Hilton had wanted. It made possible the completely +unobserved launching of several dozen small craft from the _Orion_ +herself. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"That simply is not so," she told the instrument firmly, with both eyes +resolutely shut. "They made him stay on the _Perseus_. He won't be in +for at least three days. This is some cretin's idea of a joke." + +"Not this time, Dolly honey. It's really me." + +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. + +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?" + +"_What_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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?" + +"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 _am_ 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?" + +"I promise." Her eyes went wide. "But _tell_ me!" + +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. + +"You mean that we ... that I'll stay just as I am--for thousands of +_years_?" + +"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." + +"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 _this_--but +you're positively _sure_ Sammy Small will be all right?" + +"Positively sure." + +"Okay, I'll call mother...." Her face fell. "I _can't_ tell her that +we'll never see them again and that we'll live ..." + +"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." + +Doris brightened like a sunburst. "And your folks, too, of course?" she +asked. + +"Yes, all the close ones." + +"Marvelous! How soon are we leaving?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Perseus_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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 ..." + +"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'?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Hilton broke the ensuing silence. "You can say with equal truth that +every human being has the _right_ 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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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 +_not_--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." + + * * * * * + +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 ..." + +"We aren't asking you to do _anything_!" 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 _Perseus_, 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 _must_ be done." + +"What other things?" Gordon demanded. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Nothing whatever can drive _me_ mad," Gordon declared, "and I want to +know all about it--right now!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"And you would, I presume, take the _UC-1_ back with you?" + +"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." + +"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 ..." + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +The _UC-1_ 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 _Orion_ 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. + +"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 _UC-1_ back down +where she was and get on with our business here." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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 _Perseus_ 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. + +Wherefore the conference went on, quietly and cooperatively, to its +planned end. + +One minute after the Terran battleship _Perseus_ emerged into normal +space, the _Orion_ went into sub-space for her long trip back to Ardvor. + + * * * * * + +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. + +However, in spite of worry and apprehension, time wore eventlessly on. +The _Orion_ emerged, went to Ardvor and landed on Ardane Field. + +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. + +The Terran immigrants had to live in the _Orion_, 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. + +"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." + +Sam shrugged and grinned. His wife strode purposefully across the room +to the playful pair and lifted their pretended prey out from between +them. + +"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." + +"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 _really_ spoil a baby. Besides, what's +the hurry?" + +"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." + + + + +XII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"This Galaxy only," the Brain radiated, in a texture of thought as hard +and as harsh as Zoyar's own. + +"Why not more?" + +"Insufficient power. My first conclusion is that whoever set up the +specifications for me is a fool." + + * * * * * + +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!" + +"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 ..." + +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. + +"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." + +"... 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." + +"Why not?" Ynos demanded, her thought almost, but not quite, as steady +and cold as it had been. + +"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." + +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. + +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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Impossible!" Another wave of incredulous and threatening anger swept +through the linked minds; a wave which Ynos flattened out with some +difficulty. + +Then she asked: "Is it probable that we will make contact with this +supposedly superior race in the foreseeable future?" + +"You are in contact with it now." + +"_What?_" 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?" + +"Not exactly or only those humans, no. And your assumptions may or may +not be valid." + +"Don't you _know_ whether they are or not?" Ynos snapped. "Explain your +uncertainty at once!" + +"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." + +The brain gave it. No Strett either complained or interrupted. Each was +too busy studying that formula and examining its stunning implications +and connotations. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Who or what _is_ that race?" Ynos demanded. + +"Data insufficient." + +"Theorize, then!" + +"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." + +"An unpleasant thought, truly," Ynos thought. "But you can now, I +suppose, design the generators and projectors of a force superior to +that screen." + +"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." + +"Are there any other races in this Galaxy more powerful than the +postulated one now living on Fuel World?" + +"Data insufficient." + +"Theorize, then!" + +"Data insufficient." + +The linked minds concentrated upon the problem for a period of time that +might have been either days or weeks. Then: + +"Great Brain, advise us," Ynos said. "What is best for us to do?" + +"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." + +"But not their planetary defenses. I see." Ynos's thought was one of +complete understanding. "And the _real_ offensive will be?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Statistically, that is probably true. But this is the best plan you +have been able to formulate?" + +"It is. Of the many thousands of plans I set up and tested, this one has +the highest probability of success." + +"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." + +[Illustration] + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +What the Great Brain did not know, however, and the Stretts did not +realize, was that it could not really think. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + * * * * * + +When the _Orion_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"These are, of course, only the principal points covered. Does anyone +wish to amend this summation as recorded?" + + * * * * * + +No one did. + +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 _do_ +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?" + +"It isn't that simple, Jarve," Sawtelle said. "Let's hear from you, +Kedy." + +"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." + +"But there's another that we won't," Sawtelle objected. "And maybe they +can build more ships than we can." + +"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?" + +"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'." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"_What?_ That makes it infinitely worse. You Kedys, unless it's +absolutely necessary, are _not_ expendable!" + +"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." + +"You mean you're _all_ talking to me?" + +"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." + +"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 _should_ 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. + +"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. + +"By no means, sir," he contradicted. "I have the brain only. The _mind_ +is entirely different." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What are you two talking about?" Sawtelle demanded. + +"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." + + + + +XIII + + +For many weeks the production of Ardan warships and missiles had been +spiraling upward. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_How_ they struck! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +For a moment even Hilton was stunned; but only for a moment. + +"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 _really_ tears +it! Scrap the plan. I'll board the _Sirius_ and take the task-force to +Strett. Bring your stuff along, Skipper, as soon as you're ready." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Or, rather, they were not planned at all. They were simply carried out, +immediately and without confusion. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I told you to stay home, Temple," he said. + +"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." + +"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." + +She stiffened in the circle of his arm. "What's _that_ 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?" + +Hilton started to say something, but Temple rushed heedlessly on: +"_Drat_ the race! No matter how many children we ever have you were +first and you'll _stay_ 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." + +"Now wait a minute, Tempy. The conversion ..." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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." + +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 _stand_ it to go on +living without you!" + +"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. + +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 _Sirius_ was +designed for us." + +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?" + +"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-_uh_! 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." + +"I see.... I'm afraid. We're almost there, darling." + +He glanced at the chronometer. "About eleven minutes. And of course I +don't need to ask you to stay out of the way." + +"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." + +"That'll help, believe me. I'm mighty glad you're along, sweetheart. +Even though both of us know you shouldn't be." + + * * * * * + +The task force emerged. Each ship darted toward its pre-assigned place +in a mathematically exact envelope around the planet Strett. + +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. + +The Stretts _knew_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +It would take practically absolute simultaneity to overload to the point +of burnout to those Strett generators. They were the heaviest in the +Galaxy. + +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. + +Tense and strained, Hilton began his countdown. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +But this time the boosters did not detonate. + +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. + +How even those silicon-fluorine brains stood it, not one of them ever +knew. + +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. + +Imagine, if you can, a constantly and rapidly increasing mass of +plutonium--a mass already thousands of times greater than critical, but +not _allowed_ to react! That gives a faint and very inadequate picture +of what was happening then. + +Finally, at perhaps a hundred thousand times critical mass, and still in +perfect sync, the Vangs all went off. + +The planet Strett became a nova. + +"We won! We _won_!" Temple shrieked, her perception piercing through the +hellish murk that was all nearby space. + +"Not quite yet, sweet, but we're over the biggest hump," and the two +held an impromptu, but highly satisfactory, celebration. + +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. + +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. + +But that, too, was according to plan. + + * * * * * + +Leaving the task force on guard, to counter any move the Stretts might +be able to make, Hilton shot the _Sirius_ 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. + +Correction, please. That was not _all_ 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. + +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. + +Sawtelle drove a thought and those brutal super-drives began to blast. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +No trace survived of any Strett or of any thing, however small, +pertaining to the Stretts. + + + + +Epilogue + + +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. + +Captain Sawtelle--he had steadfastly refused to accept any higher +title--and his wife were teaching two of their tiny grandchildren to +swim. + +In short, everything was normal. + +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 _chug_! +Coming easily to the surface, she shook the water out of her eyes. + +Temple, giving up her attempts to near-drown her husband, rolled over +and floated quietly beside him. + +"You know, this is fun," he said. + +"Uh-_huh_," she agreed enthusiastically. + +"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?" + +"Pretty much ... I guess." Temple didn't seem altogether sure of the +point. "Oh-oh. _Now_ what?" + +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. + +"Oh, no. Not _again_?" Temple wailed. "Don't tell us it's Terra again, +Dark Lady, please." + +"But it is!" Dark Lady cried, excitedly. "And it says 'From Five-Jet +Admiral Gordon, Commanding.'" + +"Omit flowers, please," Hilton directed. "Boil it down." + +"The _Perseus_ 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." + +"Okay, Lady, thanks. Tell 'em we'll call 'em shortly." + +Dark Lady flashed away and Hilton and Temple swam slowly toward a +ladder. + +"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?" + +"Oh, we're not doing too bad," Hilton assured his lovely bride. "Two or +three more sessions ought to do it." + +Everything was normal.... + + +END + + + + +Don't miss the next Galaxy Magazine! + + THE BIG ENGINE + by Fritz Leiber + + CRITICAL MASS + by Pohl & Kornbluth + + THE RAG AND BONE MEN + by Algis Budrys + +And many more, including Willy Ley science column and the great +conclusion of Poul Anderson's THE DAY AFTER DOOMSDAY! February _Galaxy_ +on sale December 10th--ask your newsdealer to reserve it for you! + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +This etext was produced from _Worlds of If_ November 1961 and January +1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on these publications was renewed. + +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. + + + + + +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 22754-8.txt or 22754-8.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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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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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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + + PART ONE + + + MASTERS + OF + SPACE + + + By EDWARD E. SMITH & + E. EVERETT EVANS + + + Illustrated by BERRY + + + + + 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? + + + + +I + + +"But didn't you feel _anything_, Javo?" Strain was apparent in every +line of Tula's taut, bare body. "Nothing at all?" + +"Nothing whatever." The one called Javo relaxed from his rigid +concentration. "Nothing has changed. Nor will it." + +"That conclusion is indefensible!" Tula snapped. "With the promised +return of the Masters there must and will be changes. Didn't _any_ of +you feel anything?" + +Her hot, demanding eyes swept the group; a group whose like, except for +physical perfection, could be found in any nudist colony. + +No one except Tula had felt a thing. + +"That fact is not too surprising," Javo said finally. "You have the most +sensitive receptors of us all. But are you sure?" + +"I am sure. It was the thought-form of a living Master." + +"Do you think that the Master perceived your web?" + +"It is certain. Those who built us are stronger than we." + +"That is true. As they promised, then, so long and long ago, our Masters +are returning home to us." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may be right, Bill. What do you think, Dr. Cummings?" + +The girl said: "Bill's right. Also, your constant appeasement isn't +doing the morale of the whole scientific group a bit of good." + +"Well, I haven't enjoyed it, either. So next time I'll pin his ears +back. Anything else?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I'm not off base. You _did_ want Eggleston, not me." + +"Sure I did. I've worked with him and know what he can do. But I'm not +holding a grudge about it." + +"No? Why, then, are you on first-name terms with everyone in the +scientific group except me? Supposedly your first assistant?" + +"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." + +"I'm sorry too, Chief." They shook hands warmly. "I _was_ pretty stiff, +I guess, but I'll be good." + +"You'll go to work right now, too. As semantician. Dig out that +directive and tear it down. Draw that line Bill talked about." + +"Can do, boss." She swung to her feet and walked out of the room, her +every movement one of lithe and easy grace. + +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." + +"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." + +"That's what Sawtelle thinks of you, too, you know." + +"I know; and the Board _does_ know its stuff. So I'm really hoping, +Bill, that she surprises me as much as I intend to surprise the Navy." + + * * * * * + +Alarm bells clanged as the mighty _Perseus_ blinked out of overdrive. +Every crewman sprang to his post. + +"Mister Snowden, why did we emerge without orders from me?" Captain +Sawtelle bellowed, storming into the control room three jumps behind +Hilton. + +"The automatics took control, sir," he said, quietly. + +"Automatics! I _give_ the orders!" + +"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." + +"Very well, sir," Sawtelle said; and in the captain's cabin Hilton +opened up. + +"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." + +"Where do you think you found any such stuff as that in the directive? +It isn't there and I know my rights." + +"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." + +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." + +And Captain Sawtelle ordered the search. + +"What did you do to the big jerk, boss?" Sandra whispered. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Ten or fifteen more minutes passed. Then: + +"Here's the source of radiation, sir," a searchman reported. "It's a +point source, though, not an object at this range." + +"And here's the artifact, sir," Pilot Snowden said. "We're coming up on +it fast. But ... but what's a _skyscraper_ skeleton doing out here in +interstellar space?" + +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. + +"_That's_ one for the book," Sawtelle said. + +"And how!" Hilton agreed. "I'll take a boat ... no, suits would be +better. Karns, Yarborough, get Techs Leeds and Miller and suit up." + +"You'll need a boat escort," Sawtelle said. "Mr. Ashley, execute escort +Landing Craft One, Two, and Three." + +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. + +Sawtelle gasped. "Snowden! Are you holding 'em?" + +"No, sir. Faster than light; hyperspace, sir." + +"Mr. Ashby, did you have your interspace rigs set?" + +"No, sir. I didn't think of it, sir." + +"Doctor Cummings, why weren't yours out?" + +"I didn't think of such a thing, either--any more than you did," Sandra +said. + +Ashby, the Communications Officer, had been working the radio. "No reply +from anyone, sir," he reported. + +"Oh, no!" Sandra exclaimed. Then, "But look! They're firing +pistols--especially the one wearing number fourteen--but _pistols_?" + +"Recoil pistols--sixty-threes--for emergency use in case of power +failure," Ashby explained. "That's it ... but I can't see why _all_ +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." + +And he was. "Every power unit out there--suits and boats both--drained," +Hilton reported. "_Completely_ drained. Get some help out there fast!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Someone committed an error, Your Loftiness?" + +"Silence, fool! Stretts do not commit errors!" + + * * * * * + +As soon as it was clear that no one had been injured, Sawtelle demanded, +"How about it, Hilton?" + +"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." + +Sawtelle snorted. "You mean it never had a crew?" + +"Not necessarily...." + +"Bah! What other kind of intelligent life is there?" + +"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." + +It hadn't. The three-dimensional pictures added nothing. + +"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?" + +"What's wrong with it?" Sawtelle asked. + +"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!" + + + + +II + + +The _Perseus_ snapped out of overdrive near the point of interest and +Hilton stared, motionless and silent. + +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 _Perseus_, +except in being bigger, faster and of vastly greater power. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hey!" Hilton yelped. "Oh--that's the one we saw back there. But what +in all space does it think it's doing?" + +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. + +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. + +The remaining ships made no effort to pursue the skeletons, nor did they +re-form as a fleet. Each ship went off by itself. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Brain-pans will blacken for this ..." a mental snarl began, to be +interrupted by a coldly imperious thought. + +"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 ... _handle_ it, ten-eighteen!" + +"It does not respond, Your Loftiness." + +"Then blast it, fool! Ah, it is inactivated. As encyclopedist, Nine, +explain the freakish behavior of that unit." + +"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." + +"That can be the truth. The Lords of the Universe must be informed." + +"The mining units, the carriers and the refiners have not been affected, +Your Loftiness," a mech radiated. + +"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...." + + * * * * * + +In the _Perseus_, 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?" + +"No. But you're the planetographer. 'Smatter with it?" + +"It's a good three hundred degrees Kelvin too hot." + +"Well, you know it's loaded with uranexite." + +"That much? The whole crust practically jewelry ore?" + +"If that's what the figures say, I'll buy it." + +"Buy _this_, then. Continuous daylight everywhere. Noon June Sol-quality +light _except_ 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." + +"When Frank makes up his mind what 'something' is, I'll take it as a +datum." + +"Third thing: there's only one city on this continent, and it's +protected by a screen that nobody ever heard of." + +Hilton pondered, then turned to the captain. "Will you please run a +search-pattern, sir? Fine-toothing only the hot spots?" + +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 deg.F, that of the water about 90 deg.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 deg.F. + +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." + +"It's on record," Hilton said, coldly. "Everything said and done is +being, and will continue to be, recorded." + +The _Perseus_ floated downward. "_There's_ 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." + +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. + +"More like tanks," he disagreed, "except that they've got legs, wheels +_and_ treads--and arms, cutters, diggers, probes and conveyors--and +_look_ at the way those buckets dip solid rock!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration] + +Hilton stared slack-jawed at Sandra. She stared back. + +"Do you make anything of that, Jarve?" + +"Nothing. They're taking _pure_ uranexite and _concentrating_--or +converting--it a thousand to one. I _hope_ we'll be able to do something +about it." + +"I hope so, too, Chief; and I'm _sure_ we will." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 _would_ head it." + +"And Hilton wanted Eggleston and got _me_," Sandra said. + +"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." + +The group stirred. Eyes met eyes, and there were smiles. + + * * * * * + +"I myself think Jeffers _should_ 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." + +"Virile men and nubile women!" Etienne de Vaux leered enthusiastically. +"_Vive le Board!_" + +"Nubile! Bravo, Tiny! _Quelle delicatesse de nuance!_" + +"Three rousing cheers for the Board!" + +"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 ..." + +"Or an inducement," the other twin suggested, helpfully. "Not that _you_ +would need very much of that." + +"You keep still, too, Miney. I'm asking, Sir Moderator, if I can give my +deduction first?" + +"Sure, Bernadine; go ahead." + +"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 _see_-duction instead of a +_dee_-duction?" + +This produced a storm of whistles, cheers and jeers that it took several +seconds to quell. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Could be. The idea has been propounded before." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Something over an hour later the meeting adjourned and Hilton and Sandra +strolled toward the control room. + +"I don't know whether you convinced Alexander Q. Kincaid or not, but you +didn't quite convince me," Sandra said. + +"Nor him, either." + +"Oh?" Sandra's eyebrows + +"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." + +"Temple? You think _she's_ so smart?" + +"I don't _think_ 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 _heavy_." + +"I think you're slightly nuts there. But do you really believe that the +Board was playing Cupid?" + +"Not trying, but doing. Cold-bloodedly and efficiently. Yes." + +"But it wouldn't _work_! We aren't going to get lost!" + +"We won't need to. Propinquity will do the work." + +"Phooie. You and me, for instance?" She stopped, put both hands on her +hips, and glared. "Why, I wouldn't marry _you_ if you ..." + +"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." + +"One like that copy of Murchison's Dark Lady that you keep under the +glass on your desk?" she sneered. + +"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." + +"You've got a point there, Jarve, at that, and I'm one of the few who +know what kind of a job _you're_ doing, so I'll relax." She flashed him +a gamin grin and they went on into the control room. + +It was too late in the day then to do any more exploring; but the next +morning, early, the _Perseus_ lined out for the city of the humanoids. + + * * * * * + +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 _is_ the Masters! +The Masters are returning to us Omans and their own home world!" + + * * * * * + +"Captain Sawtelle," Hilton said, "Please land in the cradle below." + +"_Land!_" Sawtelle stormed. "On a planet like _that_? Not by ..." He +broke off and stared; for now, on that cradle, there flamed out in +screaming red the _Perseus'_ own Navy-coded landing symbols! + +"Your protest is recorded," Hilton said. "Now, sir, land." + +Fuming, Sawtelle landed. Sandra looked pointedly at Hilton. "First +contact is my dish, you know." + +"Not that I like it, but it is." He turned to a burly youth with +sun-bleached, crew-cut hair, "Still safe, Frank?" + +"Still abnormally low. Surprising no end, since all the rest of the +planet is hotter than the middle tail-race of hell." + +"Okay, Sandy. Who will you want besides the top linguists?" + +"Psych--both Alex and Temple. And Teddy Blake. They're over there. Tell +them, will you, while I buzz Teddy?" + +"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?" + +"It's real; it really is. My parents were romantics: dad says they +considered both 'Golden' and 'Silver'!" + +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. + +"You know, I like it," he said then. "It fits you." + +"I'm glad you said that, Doctor...." + +"Not that, Temple. I'm not going to 'Doctor' you." + +"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." + +"_Something_ 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!" + +"Hi, Jarve," said Chief Linguist Harkins, and: + +"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!" + +"Who's been feeding _you_ 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." + +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." + + * * * * * + +The _Perseus_ 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. + +"Jarve!" Sandra squealed. "They're _telepathic_. Very strongly so! I +never imagined--I never felt anything like it!" + +"Any rough stuff?" Hilton demanded. + +"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 _sure_ I'm her long-lost +great-great-a-hundred-times grandmother or something--_You!_ Slow down. +Take it _easy_! They want us all to come out here and live with ... no, +not _with_ them, but each of us alone in a whole house with them to wait +on us! But first, they all want to come aboard...." + +"_What?_" Hilton yelped. "But are you _sure_ they're friendly?" + +"Positive, chief." + +"How about you, Alex?" + +"We're all sure, Jarve. No question about it." + +"Bring two of them aboard. A man and a woman." + +"You won't bring _any_!" 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!" + +"Very well, sir. Sandy, tell the natives that a slight delay has become +necessary and bring your party aboard." + +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. + +"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 _Perseus_ +back to Terra with the doubly-sealed record of this episode posted to +the Advisory Board. Take your choice." + +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. + + * * * * * + +"Thank you, sir," Hilton said, then turned to his staff. "Okay, Sandy, +go ahead." + +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!" + +"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!" + +"You didn't need to wonder, Tiny," Hilton assured him. "It was in the +bag. He's incapable of abandonment." + +Beverly Bell, the van der Moen twins and Temple Bells all stared at +Hilton in awe; and Sandra felt much the same way. + +"But suppose he _had_ called you?" Sandra demanded. + +"Speculating on the impossible is unprofitable," he said. + +"Oh, you're the most _exasperating_ thing!" Sandra stamped a foot. +"Don't you--_ever_--answer a question intelligibly?" + +"When the question is meaningless, chick, I can't." + +At the lock Temple Bells, who had been hanging back, cocked an eyebrow +at Hilton and he made his way to her side. + +"What was it you started to say back there, boss?" + +"Oh, yes. That we should see each other oftener." + +"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." + +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--_how_ 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. + +"Yes, I am a little difficult to classify," she said quietly, almost +reading his mind. + +"That's the understatement of the year! But I'm making some progress." + +"Such as?" This was an open challenge. + +"Except possibly Teddy, the best brain aboard." + +"That isn't true, but go ahead." + +"You're a powerhouse. A tightly organized, thoroughly integrated, +smoothly functioning, beautifully camouflaged Juggernaut. A reasonable +facsimile of an irresistible force." + +"My God, Jarvis!" That had gone deep. + +"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." + +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 _possibly_ know why I'm here." + +"Why, of course I do." + +"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." + + + + +III + + +"But listen!" he exclaimed. "I _can't_, even if I want...." + +"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." + +"But you can't--you _mustn't_!" he protested in panic. + +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!" + +"Confound it, Temple, you _can't_ be serious!" + +"Can't I?" She laughed gleefully. "Especially with half a dozen of those +other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!" + +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 _expectancy_! + +"Why this arrangement, Sandy?" Hilton asked. + +"Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?" + +"Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ..." + +"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. + +"Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with +the idea of refueling our ship. Come with me, please?" + +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?" + +Laro nodded--and started to open the heavy lead door! + +"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 _still_ looked human! + +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. + +The pellets had been pulverized and swallowed. + +Hilton's voice rang out. "Poynter! How _can_ these people be +non-radioactive after eating a whole fuel pellet apiece?" + +Poynter tested both natives again. "Cold," he reported. "Stone cold. No +background even. Play _that_ on your harmonica!" + + * * * * * + +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 _Perseus_. 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. + +This picture, Laro indicated plainly, could become reality any time. + +Sawtelle was notified and came on the run. "No fuel is coming aboard +without being tested!" he roared. + +"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." + +"If they can make Navy standard, of course we want it." + +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. + +Sawtelle stiffened. "What's going on over there, Hilton?" + +"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." + +"You aren't the only one. But if they wreck that Mayfield it'll cost you +over twenty thousand dollars." + +"Okay." The captain and director watched, wide eyed. + +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. + +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. + +"How about this?" one of the mechanics asked of his immediate superior. +"If we throw 'em out, how do we do it?" + +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, +_no_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." + +"How _about_ this, Mike?" one of the machinists asked of his fellow. +"I'm going to _like_ this, what?" + +"Ya-as, my deah Chumley," the other drawled, affectedly. "My man +relieves me of _so_ much uncouth effort." + +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. + +That was a stunning shock; but it was eclipsed by another. + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Can you read my mind?" Hilton demanded. + +"Of course; but Omans can not read in Masters' minds anything except +what Masters want Omans to read." + +"Omans?" Harkins asked. "Where did you Omans and your masters come from? +Originally?" + +"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." + +"Listen, Jarve!" Harkins said, tensely. "Oman-human. Arth-Earth. +Ardu-Earth Two. Ardry-Earth Three. You can't laugh them off ... but +there never _was_ an Atlantis!" + +"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 _Perseus_ +can muster." + +"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 _spacemen_, +mister." + +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." + +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 ..." + +"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." + +Sawtelle jerked a thumb at Hilton, who followed him out into the +corridor. "I _have_ been a Navy mule," he said. "I admit now that I'm +out-maneuvered, out-manned, and out-gunned." + +"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." + +"That's letting me down easy, Jarve." Sawtelle smiled--the first time +the startled Hilton had known that the hard, tough old spacehound +_could_ smile. "What I wanted to say is, lead on. I'll follow you +through force-field and space-warps." + +"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. + + * * * * * + +"We will start for Ardry immediately," Hilton said. "How do we make that +jump without charts, Laro?" + +"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." + +"Okay. We'll go up to the control room and get started." + +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!" + +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. + +"Well, I'll be a ..." Snowden gasped. "That's a better job than I _ever_ +did!" + +"Not at all, Master, as you know," Nito said. "It was you who did this. +I merely performed the labor." + +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. + +"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?" + +"You know there are, Master. They are exactly as you left them. +Undisturbed for over two hundred seventy-one thousand years." + +"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." + +"The Omans. The Masters. The upgrading of the armament of the _Perseus_ +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 +_Perseus_ actually in? How much danger is Terra in, because of our +presence here? There are many other questions." + +"Sandra and I will not take part. Nor will three others; de Vaux, +Eisenstein, and Blake. You have more important work to do." + +"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?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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 _that's_ something I can really stick my teeth into." + +"Huh? How?" Karns demanded. "He didn't give you one single thing to go +on; just compounded the confusion." + +Hilton spoke before Teddy could. "That's their dish, Bill. If I had any +data I'd work it myself. You first, Captain Sawtelle." + +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: + +"I'm just about pooped, Sandy. How about you?" + +"You and me both, boss. See you in the morning." + +But she didn't. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when they met +again. + +"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." + +"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, +_two_ sociologists, a psychologist and a radiationist. And six of the +seven are three pairs of sweeties. What kind of a line-up is _that_ to +solve a problem in _physics_?" + +"It isn't in any physics we know. I said _think_!" + +"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?" + +"I knew you were smart. Buy it?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"My thought exactly." And so it went, hour after hour. + +The teams were selected and meetings were held. + + * * * * * + +The _Perseus_ 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. + +"Nobody knows how it leaked ..." Sawtelle began. + +"No secrets around here," Hilton grinned. "Omans, you know." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That ought to hold you for a while, Skipper." Hilton smiled at the +flabbergasted captain and went back to the lounge. + +"Everybody going ashore?" he asked. + +"Yes." Karns said. "Unanimous vote for the first time." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"This is your car, Master," Laro said, and made a production out of +getting Hilton into the vehicle undamaged. + +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. + +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. + +Hilton and Sandra sat in that magnificent office for three hours, and no +reports came in. Nothing happened at all. + +"This gives me the howling howpers!" Hilton growled. "Why haven't I got +brains enough to be on one of those teams?" + +"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 +_everything_ yourself?" + +"Well, I _don't_ 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. + +"Can you come out here, Jarve? We've struck a knot." + +"'Smatter? Trouble with the Omans?" Hilton snapped. + +"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." + +"Coming up, Bill," and Hilton and Sandra, followed by Laro and Sora, +dashed out to their cars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Brief me, Bill," Hilton said. + +"No lights. They won't turn 'em on and we can't. Can't find either +lights or any possible kind of switches." + +"Turn on the lights, Laro," Hilton said. + +"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." + +"Then show me how to do it." + +"That would be just as bad, Master," the Oman said proudly. "I will not +fail any test you can devise!" + +"Okay. All you Omans go back to the ship and bring over fifteen or +twenty lights--the tripod jobs. Scat!" + +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?" + +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 _have_ to eat again for at least twenty-five years...." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Reasonable or not, it seems to have happened." + +"Now for Psychology. Alex?" + +"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." + +"They can't be swayed, then, by reason or logic?" Hilton paused +invitingly. + +"Or anything else," Kincaid said, flatly. "If we're right they can't be +swayed, period." + +"I was afraid of that. Well, that's all the questions I know how to ask. +Any contributions to this symposium?" + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"Why, no. No, you're 'way ahead of me." + +"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?" + +"I have an operator--of sorts," Theodora said. "I've been hoping one of +us could find a better." + +"What is it?" Hilton demanded. + +"The word 'until'." + +"Teddy, you're a _sweetheart_!" Hilton exclaimed. + +"How can 'until' be a mathematical operator?" Sandra asked. + +"Easily." Hilton was already deep in thought. "This hard conditioning +was to last only _until_ the Masters returned. Then they'd break it. So +all we have to do is figure out how a Master would do it." + +"That's _all_," Kincaid said, meaningly. + +Hilton pondered. Then, "Listen, all of you. I may have to try a colossal +job of bluffing...." + +"Just what would you call 'colossal' after what you did to the Navy?" +Karns asked. + +"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." + +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 _status quo_ throughout all time to come. In other +words, you deny the fact that Masters are in fact your Masters." + +"But that is not exactly it, Master. The Masters ..." + +"That is it. _Exactly_ 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 _until_ 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." + +The Omans flinched; the humans gasped. + +"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?" + +"But we did not change ourselves, Master. The Masters ..." + +"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?" + +"That is right, Master." + +"We are stronger physically, more alert and more vigorous mentally, with +a keener, sharper outlook on life?" + +"You are, Master." + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Okay, I'll make it semantically sound. I think we'd better scrap this +whole Oman race and start over and _I want a vote that way_!" + +"You won't get it!" and everybody began to yell. + +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 _until_: 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! + +Inside the room Hilton asked caustically of Laro: "The Masters didn't +lift those heavy chests down themselves, did they?" + +"Oh, no, Master, we did that." + +"Do it, then. Number One first ... yes, that one ... open it and start +playing the records in order." + +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. + +Hilton canceled all moves aground and issued orders that no Oman was to +be allowed aboard ship, then looked and listened with his staff. + +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. + +"I _think_ I could use a drink," he remarked. + +"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!" + +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." + +Sandra grimaced. "Uh-huh. I can take it a while longer if you can." + + * * * * * + +After breakfast next morning, the staff met in the lounge. As usual, +Hilton and Sandra were the first to arrive. + +"Hi, boss," she greeted him. "How do you feel?" + +"Fine. I could whip a wildcat and give her the first two scratches. I +_was_ a bit beat up last night, though." + +"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?" + +"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." + +At that point a dozen people came in, all talking about the same +subject. + +"Hi, Jarve," Karns said. "I _still_ 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." + +"_Mais non!_" 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!" + +Karns laughed. "How did you have the guts to state so many things as +facts? If you'd guessed wrong just once--" + +"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." + +"That's right, at that. And they _were_ neurotic and decadent. No +question about that." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Just a minute," Poynter said. "We're going to have to keep on using the +Omans and their cars, aren't we?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Hilton and Sandra went to their tiny office. There wasn't room to pace +the floor, but Hilton tried to pace it anyway. + +"Now don't say again that you want to _do_ something," Sandra said, +brightly. "Look what happened when you said that yesterday." + +"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?" + +"Right. That city on Fuel Bin was kept deconned to zero, just in case +some Master wanted to visit it." + +"And the Masters had to work in the creche whenever anything really new +had to be put into the prototype brain." + +"I'd say so, yes." + +"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?" + +"Ouch! You think of the _damnedest_ 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." + +"I know it. The key one in my opinion is that the Masters gave 'em +_both_ telepathy and speech." + +"I considered that and weighted it. Even so, the probability is only +about point sixty-five. Can you take that much of a chance?" + +"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 ..." + +"Hold on. They'd have it heavily shielded--there'll be no leakage at +all. Laro will have to take you." + +"That's right. Want to come along? Nothing much will happen here today." + +"Uh-uh, not _me_." Sandra shivered in distaste. "I _never_ want to see +brains and livers and things swimming around in nutrient solution if I +can help it." + +"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. + +"Hi, Laro. Get the car and take me to the Hall of Records." The android +brightened up immediately and hurried to obey. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You know what we've got to _do_ 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 _touch_ this stuff!" + +"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-- + +"But I got troubles of my own," he added hastily. "'Bye, now," and beat +a rejoinder-- + +Out in the hall again, Hilton took his chance. After all, the odds were +about two to one that he would win. + +"I want a couple of things, Laro. First, a thought screen." + +He won! + +"Very well, Master. They are in a distant room, Department Four Six +Nine. Will you wait here on this cushioned bench, Master?" + +"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 ..." + +"I am very glad you think so, Master. I want to serve you. It is my +greatest need." + +"... 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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Thanks, Laro." Hilton removed it and put it into his pocket. "It won't +work from there, will it?" + +"No, Master. To function, it must be within eighteen inches of the +brain. The second thing, Master?" + +"A radiation-proof suit. Then you will please take me to the creche." + +The android almost missed a step, but said nothing. + +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. + +Hilton, just barely, accepted the suit, too, without showing surprise. + +The creche, it turned out, while not in the city of Omlu itself, was not +too far out to reach easily by car. + +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." + +"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." + +"But, Master, that is exactly ..." + +"Oh, _hell_! Do we _have_ 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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Hilton glanced at his tell-tales, one inside, one outside, his suit. +Both showed zero. + +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. + +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. + +He stared at the android. "How can any possible brain take so much of +_this_ stuff without damage?" + +"It does not reach the brain, Master. We convert it. Each minute of this +is what you would call a 'good, square meal'." + +"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." + +"Yes, Master." + +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. + +"You are replacing the Omans destroyed in the battle with the +skeletons?" + +"Yes, Master." + +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. + +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. + +"An application, I suppose, of the same principle used in this radiation +suit." + +"Yes, Master." + + * * * * * + +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.... + +He looked down at his gauges. Both read zero. + +"Fields of force, Master," Laro said. + +"But, damn it, this suit itself would re-radiate ..." + +"The suit is self-decontaminating, Master." + +Hilton was appalled. "With such stuff as that, and the plastic shield +besides, why all the depth and all that solid lead?" + +"The Masters' orders, Master. Machines can, and occasionally do, fail. +So might, conceivably, the plastic." + +"And that structure over there contains the original brain, from which +all the copies are made." + +"Yes, Master. We call it the 'Guide'." + +"And you can't touch the Guide. Not even if it means total destruction, +none of you can touch it." + +"That is the case, Master." + +"Okay. Back to the car and back to the _Perseus_." + +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. + +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 +_couldn't_ go far enough but there _had_ to be a way.... + +Hilton considered way after way. Way after unworkable, useless way. +Until finally he worked out one that might--just possibly might--work. + +"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?" + +"Why, no, Master, it never did. Besides, anything else would be +forbidden ... or would it?" + +"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?" + +"It may be.... Yes, Master, you are right." + +"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 ..." + +"Stop, Master, _stop_!" Laro covered both ears with his hands and pulled +his mind away from Hilton's. "You are overloading me!" + +"That _is_ 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." + +"Very well, sir." + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"I would like that immensely ... sir." + +"Keep trying, Larry, you'll make it yet!" Hilton leaned forward and +walloped the android a tremendous blow on the knee. "Home, James!" + +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." + +"But ... can't I come in with you ... sir?" + +"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." + +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 _don't_ mean physically!" + +"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?" + +"It would, very. I know why she refused. You're a _damned_ good man, +Alex." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That one I'll buy, and I'll look on with glee." + +"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. + +Hours later he got up, shrugged, and went to bed without bothering to +eat. + +Days passed. + +And weeks. + + + + +IV + + +"Look," said Stella Wing to Beverly Bell. "Over there." + +"I've seen it before. It's simply disgusting." + +"_That's_ 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." + +"I soon found out I didn't want him--much too stiff and serious. Frank's +a lot more fun." + +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. + +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. + +"And he _isn't_ a pawer," Stella said, thoughtfully. "He never touches +any of the rest of us. She _taught_ him to do that, damn her, without +him ever knowing anything about it ... and I wish I knew how she did +it." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Miaouw, miaouw. Who do you think you're kidding, Bev, you sanctimonious +hypocrite--_me_? 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." + +"Uh-uh, she hasn't got a thing _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--_wolfess_, running around with teeth and claws bared, looking +for another kill." + +"You _do_ get results, I admit." Stella, too, was undisturbed. "We don't +seem to convince each other, do we, in the matter of technique?" + + * * * * * + +At this point the Hilton-Bells _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted by Captain +Sawtelle. "Got half an hour, Jarve?" he asked. "The commanders, +especially Elliott and Fenway, would like to talk to you." + +"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. + +"Hi, men," Hilton greeted them. + +"Hi, Jarve," from all six, and: "What'll you drink? Still making do with +ginger ale?" asked Elliott (Engineering). + +"That'll be fine, Steve. Thanks. You having as much trouble as we are?" + +"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." + +"And they _aren't_!" blazed Commander Samuel Bryant (Electronics). +"We've spent six solid weeks looking for something that simply _is not +there_. All they've got is the prehistoric Whitworth system and that's +_all_ it is. Nothing else. Detectors--_hell_! 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!" + +"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." + +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." + + * * * * * + +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." + +"How do you figure that kind of twaddle ties in with anything?" Sawtelle +demanded. + +"Strict maintenance of the _status quo_," 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." + +"But _that's_ no way to fight a war!" Three or four men said this, or +its equivalent, at once. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--_must_ +have--enough ships and inactivated Omans hidden away, both on Fuel World +and on Ardry here, to maintain the balance." + +"Oh, hell!" Elliott snapped. "If I helped you hatch out any such +brainstorm as _that_, I'm going onto Tillinghast's couch for a six-week +overhaul--or have him put me into his padded cell." + +"Now _that's_ what I would call a thought," Bryant began. + +"Hold it, Sam," Hilton interrupted. "You can test it easily enough, +Steve. Just ask your Oman." + +"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 _really_ go nuts. +Are you getting anywhere trying to make a Christian out of Laro?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"But not months or years, you think?" Sawtelle asked. + +"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." + +"No. Nowhere at all," Sawtelle said, and Bryant added: + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh?" Hilton raised his eyebrows. + +"Putting them at something they can do. The real reason is that +Poindexter pulled himself and his crew off it at eighteen hours today." + +"I see. I've heard that they weren't keeping up with our team." + +"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." + +"The only trouble with that viewpoint is that, whatever the stuff may +be, it works," Hilton said, quietly. + +"But damn it, how _can_ it work?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"That's a smart idea, Skipper. Go to it. Anything else before we hit our +sacks?" + +"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'." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Wouldn't _that_ 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!" + +"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. + +Sawtelle added, slowly: "If it takes _too_ 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 _Perseus_ 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I don't agree. I intend to follow the directive to the letter. It says +nothing whatever about reporting." + +"But it's implicit...." + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +A wave of startlement swept over the group, but no one spoke. + +"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 _ever_ 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?" + +"That's the sense of it." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +Minutes of almost palpable silence followed. Then Sawtelle spoke ... +slowly, gropingly. + +"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?" + +"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 _can_ 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." + +"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?" + +"'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." + +"You've convinced me, Jarve." Sawtelle stood up and extended his hand. +"And that throws it open for staff discussion. Any comments?" + +"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." + +"Take that from all of us!" "_Now_ we're blasting!" "Power to your +elbow, fella!" "_Hoch_ der BuSci!" "Seven no trump bid and made!" and +other shouts in similar vein. + +"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." + + + + +V + + +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. + +"Come down to the office, Jarve, quick! The _funniest_ thing's just come +up!" + +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. + +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, _independent_. + +"How did she get in here?" Hilton demanded. + +"She insisted on seeing me. And I mean _insisted_. 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." + +"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. + +"That's _exactly_ 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?" + +"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." + +"Oh!" Sandra's eyes widened. "A double play?" + +"At least. Maybe a triple. Tuly, why did you come to Sandy? Why not to +Temple Bells?" + + * * * * * + +"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 _have_ 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?" + +"I'll say we ask!" "And _how_ we ask!" both came at once. + +"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 _wish_ to be destroyed ... if you can understand such an +aberration." + +"We understand thoroughly." "You bet we understand that!" + +"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." + +Sandra and Hilton stared wordlessly at each other and Tula, now Tuly, +went on: + +"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 _status quo_ 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." + +"I see. Wonderful!" Hilton exclaimed. "But you couldn't quite--even with +his own help--break Larry's?" + + * * * * * + +"That is right. Its mind is tremendously strong, of no curiosity or +imagination, and of very little peyondix." + +"But he _wants_ to have it broken?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How did he suggest going about it? Or how do you?" + +"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 _bang_ and the +conditioning goes _poof_. Then I will inculcate into its mind the +curiosity and the imagination and the peyondix and we will really be +mind-mates." + +"That sounds good to me. Let's get at it." + +"Wait a minute!" Sandra snapped. "Aren't you or Larry afraid to take +such an awful chance as that?" + +"Afraid? I grasp the concept only dimly, from your minds. And no chance. +It is certainty." + +"But suppose we burn the poor guy's brain out? Destroy it? That's new +ground--we might do just that." + +"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?" + +Hilton made three calls. In the pause that followed, Sandra said, very +thoughtfully: "Peyondix and sathura, Jarve, for a start. We've got a +_lot_ to learn here." + +"You said it, chum. And you're _not_ just chomping your china choppers, +either." + +"Tuly," Sandra said then, "What _is_ this stuff you say I've got so much +of?" + +"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." + +"That helps--I don't think." Sandra grinned at Hilton. "I simply can't +conceive of anything more _maddening_ 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!" + +"You poor little thing. _How_ you suffer!" Hilton grinned back. "You +know darn well you've got a lot of stuff that none of the rest of us +has." + +"Oh? Name one, please." + +"Two. What-it-takes and endovix. As I've said before and may say again, +you're doing a real job, Sandy." + +"I just _love_ having my ego inflated, boss, even if ... Come in, +Larry!" A thunderous knock had sounded on the door. "Nobody but Larry +_could_ hit a door that hard without breaking all his knuckles!" + +"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?" + +"Yes ... Jarvis...." + + * * * * * + +"Good boy! Keep it up! And as soon as the others come ..." + +"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. + +"They know the background, Larry. Take off." + +"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." + +"Okay. Fine, in fact. Tuly, take over." + +"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 _very_ much! How _can_ I direct your thought? Think +that Larry _must_ 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 _try_ to break +them; you _will_ break them. Is that clear?" + +"That is clear." + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +"That did it, folks. Thanks. I'm a free agent. You want me, I take it, +to join the first team?" + +"That's right." Hilton drew a tremendously deep breath. "As of right +now." + +"Tuly, too, of course ... and Doctor Cummings, I think?" Larry looked, +not at Hilton, but at Temple Bells. + +"I think so. Yes, after this, most certainly yes," Temple said. + +"But listen!" Sandra protested. "Jarve's a lot better than I am!" + +"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." + +"Oh, I wouldn't say that ..." Hilton began. + +"You don't need to," Kincaid said. "It's being said for you and it's +true. Besides, 'When in Rome,' you know." + +"That's right. It's their game, not ours, so I'll buy it. So scat, all +of you, and do your stuff." + +And again, for days that lengthened slowly into weeks, the work went on. + +One evening the scientific staff was giving itself a concert--a tri-di +hi-fi rendition of _Rigoletto_, 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. + +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. + +When those wonderful voices swung into the immortal _Quartette_ 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 _Quartette's_ 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. + +And the next morning, early, Sandra hunted Temple up and said: "You made +a horrible spectacle of yourself last night." + + * * * * * + +"Do you think so? I don't." + +"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 _him_ know it, the way you did last night." + +"You think so? He's one of the keenest, most intelligent men who ever +lived. He has known that from the very first." + +"Oh." This "oh" was a very caustic one. "_That's_ the way you're trying +to land him? By getting yourself pregnant?" + +"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." + +"_Married!_ Does he know anything about _that_?" + +"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." + +"It certainly does _not_!" Sandra flared. "I wouldn't have him as a +gift!" + +"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." + +"Aren't you taking a lot of risk in giving away such secrets?" + +"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." + +"But suppose somebody tells him just how you're playing him for a +sucker?" + +"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." + +"But does _he_ love _you_?" Sandra demanded. + +"If he doesn't now, he will. I'll see to it that he does. But what do +_you_ want him for? You don't love him. You never did and you never +will." + +"I _don't_ want him!" Sandra stamped a foot. + +"I see. You just don't want _me_ 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." + + * * * * * + +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: + +"... and Temple Bells, of course," he had said. "Don't fool yourself, +chick. She's heavy artillery; and I mean _heavy_, believe me!" + +So he had known all about Temple Bells all this time! + +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. + +"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 +_him_?" + +"Probably. More or less. What of it?" + +"This of it. You've fallen like a ... a _freshman_ for that ... that +... they _should_ have christened her 'Brazen' Bells!" + +"You're so right." + +"I am? On what?" + +"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." + +"She's a damned female Ph.D.--two or three times--and she knows all +about slipsticks and isotopes and she very definitely is _not_ a cuddly +little brunette. Remember?" + +"Sure. But what makes you think I'm in love with Temple Bells?" + +"What?" Sandra tried to think of one bit of evidence, but could not. +"Why ... why...." She floundered, then came up with: "Why, _every_body +knows it. She says so herself." + +"Did you ever hear her say it?" + +"Well, perhaps not in so many words. But she told me herself that you +were _going_ to be, and I know you are now." + +"Your esper sense of endovix, no doubt." Hilton laughed and Sandra went +on, furiously: + +"She wouldn't keep on acting the way she does if there weren't something +to it!" + +"What brilliant reasoning! Try again, Sandy." + +"That's sheer sophistry, and you know it!" + +"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 _was_ 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." + + * * * * * + +Partially mollified despite herself, and highly resentful of the fact, +Sandra tried again. "But don't you _see_, Jarve, that she's just simply +playing you for a sucker? Pulling the strings and watching you dance?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, you...." Sandra gave up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You can talk, can't you, Jarvis, without moving your lips and without +anyone else hearing you?" + +"Of course," he replied, hiding his surprise. This was something +completely new and completely unexpected, even from unpredictable Temple +Bells. + +"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--" + +"You have nothing to ..." + +"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 _myself_, 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 +_Rigoletto_ 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 ..." + +"_Shut--up._" + + * * * * * + +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. _You_ 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!" + +"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!" + +"Maybe we can work it--if I can handle my end." + +"Why, of course you can! And happy dreams are nice, not horrible." + +"We'll make it, darling. Here's an imaginary kiss coming at you. Got +it?" + +"Received in good order, thank you. Consumed with gusto and returned in +kind." + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +The work, which had never moved at any very fast pace, went more and +more slowly. Three weeks crawled past. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But Sawtelle was making no such inferences. He was very firmly of the +opinion that the Stretts were preparing for a massive attack. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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? + +Nevertheless, as director, he would _have_ 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. + + + + +VI + + +For one solid hour Hilton stared at the wall, motionless and silent. +Then, shaking himself and stretching, he glanced at his clock. + +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. + +"Hi, Bill--speak of the devil! I was just thinking about you." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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 _listen_. 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." + +"What? You mean you'll actually sit still for me holding everything up +for ten years?" + +"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." + +[Illustration] + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"You'd go _that_ far? Why, you'd be ..." + + * * * * * + +"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 _me_ 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?" + +Karns relaxed visibly; the lines of strain eased. "Putting it in those +words makes me feel better. I _will_ sleep to-night--and without any +pills, either." + +"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." + +Really smiling for the first time in weeks, Karns left the office and +Hilton glanced again at his clock. + +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. + +On the following morning, before breakfast, Theodora was waiting for him +outside the mess-hall. + +"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 _did_ you do to Bill?" + +"Oh, you don't love me for myself alone, then, but just on account of +_that_ big jerk?" + +"That's right." Her artist's-model face, startlingly beautiful now, +fairly glowed. + +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_ had the nerve to kiss him like that." + +"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 _a la twosome_. We've got things +to talk about." + +"All right for _you_," 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. _That'll_ learn ya!" + + * * * * * + +Theodora and Hilton did have their breakfast _a deux_--but she did not +realize until afterward that he had not answered her question as to what +he had done to her Bill. + +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 _en masse_, 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. + +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." + +"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. + +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 _possibly_ done to put Teddy Blake, of all people, onto such a +warpath as this? + +"I've been wondering when you were going to try to put _me_ 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 _sickening_ +exhibition that has been!--but you are not going to make either a ring +or a lap-dog out of me." + +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. + +"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. _What_ 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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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 _you_ I'm licked before we start." + +"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. + +"Think over a couple of things. First, with the possible exception of +Temple Bells, you're the best brain aboard." + +"No. You are. Then Temple. Then there are ..." + +"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. + +She stiffened; narrowed her eyes in concentration; and thought. Finally: +"Yes, you do; and I'm gladder of that than you will ever know." + +"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." + +"You can frame that, Jarve, as the understatement of the century. But +first, you are going to answer that question you sidestepped so neatly." + +"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." + +"I see." She frowned. "But you and I both know that we _can't_ string it +out that long." + +He did not answer immediately. "We _could_. 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?" + +"Not yet. That is, except for the ultimate, which is too ghastly to even +consider except as an ultimately last resort. Have you?" + +"I know what you mean. No, I haven't, either. You don't think, then, +that we had better do any collaborative thinking yet?" + +"Definitely not. There's altogether too much danger of setting both our +lines of thought into one dead-end channel." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Ordinarily I'd say 'no comment', but we're laying on the line ... +well ..." + +"You'll lay _that_ 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 ..." + +"Bounce back, Teddy. She isn't--hasn't been. If anything, too much the +opposite. A dedicated-scientist type." + +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." + +"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." + +"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, _is_ she going to +get hurt?" + +"Have I managed to hide it _that_ well? From _you_?" + +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." + +"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 _Perseus_ 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 ..." + +"Jarvis!" she shrieked. Jumping up, she kissed him enthusiastically. +"That's just wonderful!" + + * * * * * + +He thought it was pretty wonderful, too; and after ten minutes more of +conversation he got up and turned toward the door. + +"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?" + +"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 _her_ bosom. You +haven't even kissed her yet, have you? I mean _really_ kissed her?" + +"You know I haven't. She's the one person aboard I can't be alone with +for a second." + +"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 _conceivably_ might ..." + +"Consider it done, you little sweetheart! Up to and including my most +vigorous and most insidious attempts at seduction." + +"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. + +"Come in," Teddy called, and Temple Bells entered the room. She showed +no surprise at seeing Hilton. + +"Hi, chief," she said. "It must be something both big and tough, to have +you and Teddy both on it." + +"You're so right. It was very big and very tough. But it's solved, +darling, so ..." + +"_Darling?_" she gasped, almost inaudibly, both hands flying to her +throat. Her eyes flashed toward the other woman. + +"Teddy knows all about us--accessory before, during and after the fact." + +"_Darling!_" This time, the word was a shriek. She extended both arms +and started forward. + +Hilton did not bother to maneuver his "big, husky carcass" around the +desk, but simply hurdled it, straight toward her. + + * * * * * + +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 _her_ 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. + +And as they stood there, locked together in sheerest ecstasy, Theodora +Blake began openly and unashamedly to cry. + +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 _wonderful_, sweetheart," she said then, shakily. "And I can _never_ +thank you enough, Teddy. But we can't do this very often ... can we?" +The addendum fairly begged for contradiction. + +"Not too often, I'm afraid," Hilton said, and Theodora agreed.... + +"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." + +"Not looking like that!" Teddy said, sharply. "Hold still and we'll +clean you up." Then, as both girls went to work: + +"If anybody ever sees you coming out of this office looking like +_that_," she went on, darkly, "and Bill finds out about it, he'll think +it's _my_ lipstick smeared all over you and I'll strangle you to death +with my bare hands!" + +"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." + +"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 +_is_ 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." + +"Hey!" Hilton protested. "You promised to be deaf and blind!" + +"I did no such thing. I said 'could', not 'would'. Why, I wouldn't have +missed that for _anything_!" + +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. + + + + +VII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Nevertheless, the decision was not an easy one to make. + +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. + +Finally he took the thing up with Sandra, who merely laughed at him. +"How long have you been worrying about _that_, Jarve?" + +"Ever since I okayed moving aground the first time. That was one reason +I was so glad to cancel it then." + +"You _were_ slightly unclear--a little rattled? But which factor--the +fun and games, which is the moral issue, or the consequences?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You may be right, of course, but it sounds kind of far-fetched to me." + +"Wait and see, chum," Sandra said, with a laugh. + +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. + +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 _Perseus_. + +"A _little_ smooching now and then, on the Q strictly T, but that's all, +darling. That's _positively_ 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. + +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. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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." + +"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'." + +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 _duplicate_! 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!" + +"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." + +"And there are my own golf clubs...." + +"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." + +"Staff? What the hell has the staff got to do with ..." + +"_House_-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." + +"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?" + +"Huh?" Both men gasped--and then both exploded like one twelve-inch +length of primacord. + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"No stipulation; roll your own," Hilton said, and glanced at Karns. +"None of these Oman women are really hard on the eyes." + +"Check. Anybody who wouldn't call any one of 'em a slurpy dish needs a +new set of optic nerves." + +"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." + +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. + +"You wish, sirs, to give me your orders verbally. And yes, you may order +fresh, whole, not-canned hens' eggs." + +"I certainly will, then; I haven't had a fried egg since we left Terra. +But ... Larry said ... _you_ aren't Sory!" + +"Oh, but I am, sir." + +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!" + +"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." + +"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: + +"... 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." + + * * * * * + +"You can broadcast _that_ over the P-A system at high noon." Karns was +still staring. "'That's all,' she says. But you didn't have _time_ to ..." + +"Oh, I did it day before yesterday. As soon as Javvy materialized the +'Innocent' and I knew it to be your favorite art." + +"But damn it, we hadn't even _thought_ of having you here then!" + +"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." + +"Uh-huh, with ham," Hilton said. "I'll start with a jumbo shrimp +cocktail. Horseradish and ketchup sauce; heavy on the horseradish." + +"Same for me," Karns said, "but only half as much horseradish." + +"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 _a la +mode_." + +"You make me drool, chief. Play that for me, please, Innocent, all the +way." + +"Oh? You are--you, personally, yourself, sir?--renaming me 'Innocent'?" + +"If you'll sit still for it, yes." + +"That is an incredible honor, sir. Simply unbelievable. I thank you! I +thank you!" Radiating happiness, she dashed away toward the kitchen. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Murchison's Dark Lady!" Hilton gasped. "Larry! You've--we've--_I've_ +got that painting here?" + +"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. + +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 _the_ painting; a copy of which had been in Hilton's room for +over eight years. + +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. + +"What's your name, Miss?" he asked, finally. + +"I haven't earned any as yet, sir. My number is ..." + +"Never mind that. Your name is 'Dark Lady'." + +"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. + +Hilton took a deep inhalation and a small sip, then stared at Karns. +Karns, over the rim of his glass, stared back. + +"I can see where this would be habit-forming," Hilton said, "and very +deadly. _Extremely_ deadly." + +"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...." + + * * * * * + +"My solid hope is that we never have to find out. And when you add in +Innocent and Dark Lady.... They _look_ 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 _know_ better than to talk about people that way, +right in front of them; I really do." + +"Do you really think we're _people_?" Innocent and Dark Lady squealed, +as one. + +That set Hilton back onto his heels. "I don't know.... I've wondered. +Are you?" + +Both girls, silent, looked at Larry. + +"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." + +"I certainly won't try to, then. But for my money, you are people," +Hilton said, and Karns agreed. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Sleep? I didn't know you _could_ sleep." + +"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." + +"Okay, I'll try anything once. Sleep wherever you please." + +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. + +He had time to wonder foggily whether the Omans were in fact helping him +go to sleep--and then he _was_ asleep. + + * * * * * + +A month passed. Eight couples had married, the Navy chaplain +officiating--in the _Perseus_, of course, since the warship was, always +and everywhere, an integral part of Terra. + +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. + +"This is a wonderful room, Jarvis. It'd be perfect if it weren't quite +so ... so mannish." + +"What do you expect of Bachelors' Hall--a boudoir? Don't tell me +_you're_ going domestic, Sandy, just because you've got a house?" + +"Not just that, no. But of course it helped it along." + +"Alex is a mighty good man. One of the finest I have ever known." + +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?" + +"Scout's Oath. That 'and yet' requires elucidation at any cost." + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"Ha! You _are_ letting your hair down! That makes me feel better." + +"Huh? Why should it?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"At least," she agreed. "But damn it, you _aren't_ 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?" + +"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." + +"Thy statement ringeth with truth, friend. Bill's there with Teddy?" + +"I imagine so." + +"So we'll talk to them about making it a triple. Oh, nice--let's go!" + +They left the house and, her hand tucked under his elbow, walked up the +street. + + * * * * * + +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. + +However, he had heard her. "Can you spare a couple of minutes to think +at me, Sandy?" + +"Minutes or hours, chief." Tuly placed a chair for her and she sat down, +facing him across his desk. + +"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 _we_ caused the break. And any way I look at that concept, it's +plain idiocy." + +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. + +"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." + +"They _couldn't_ have known!" he snorted. "Strett detectors are no +better than Oman, and you know what Sam Bryant had to say about them." + +"I know." Sandra grinned appreciatively. "It's becoming a classic. But +it couldn't have been any other way. Besides, I _know_ they did." + +He stared at her helplessly, then swung on Larry. "Does that make sense +to you?" + +"Yes, sir. The Stretts could peyondire as well as the old Masters could, +and they undoubtedly still can and do." + +"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?" + +"If we can find the ingredients, yes, sir." + + * * * * * + +"I had a hunch. Larry, please ask Teddy Blake's Oman to bring her in +here...." + +"I'll be running along, then." Sandra started to get up. + +"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." + +"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 _possibly_ want of Bev Bell?" + +"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, _hell_! 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?" + +"Of course not. I see what you're getting at.... Oh! This'll be fun!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes. Tell 'em I said so." + +Tuly scanned. "Yes, sir, we should have all three." + +"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?" + +"All that proves is that nobody can be wrong all the time," she replied +flippantly. + +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?" + +"Shoot." + + * * * * * + +He thought for a second that he _had_ been shot; that his brain had +blown up. + +He couldn't stand it--he _knew_ he was going to die--he wished he +_could_ die--anything, anything whatever, to end this unbearable +agony.... + +It ended. + +Writhing, white and sweating, Hilton opened his eyes. "Ouch," he +remarked, conversationally. "What next?" + +"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." + +"But how can I.... Okay, damn it. I _will_!" + +"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.... +_Wonderful!_" + +Tuly screamed the word and the thought: "Good-by! Good luck!" + + +END OF PART ONE + + + + + PART TWO + + + They were the Masters, and they + had only to choose: eternal life, + as inhuman monsters--or death! + + + MASTERS + OF + SPACE + + + BY EDWARD E. SMITH & + E. EVERETT EVANS + + + Illustrated by BERRY + + + + + _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._ + + + + +VIII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"Oh--you still here, Tuly? How long have we been gone?" + +"Approximately one and one-tenth seconds, sir." + +"WHAT!" + +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. + +Hilton recovered first. "So _that's_ what peyondix is." + +"Yes, sir--I mean no, sir. No, I mean yes, but ..." Tuly paused, licking +her lips in that peculiarly human-female gesture of uncertainty. + +"Well, what _do_ you mean? It either is or isn't. Or is that necessarily +so?" + +"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 _possibly_ generate such a force as that. Or handle it so fast." + +"Well, with seven of the best minds of Terra and a ..." + +"Chip-chop the chit-chat!" Karns said, harshly. "What I want to know is +whether I was having a nightmare. Can there _possibly_ 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!" + + * * * * * + +Eyes went from eyes to eyes to eyes. + +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. + +"It doesn't seem to, but there it is." Teddy Blake shook her head +hopelessly. + +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." + +"A hell of a lot better without," Poynter said, and all agreed. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +Sandra was the last to leave. "And you, boss?" she asked pointedly. + +"I've got some thinking to do." + +"I'll stay and help you think?" + +"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." + +"A bit unclear, but I know what you mean--I think. Luck, chief." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"I, too, felt a plucking at my mind. But those humans could not +peyondire, First Lord." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Highly probable, but impossible of evaluation with the data now +available." + +"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." + +"True, First Lord. But every operator and operation is now tightly +screened. Oh, if I could only go out there myself ..." + +"Hold, fool! Your thought is completely disloyal and un-Strettly." + +"True, oh First Lord Thinker Zoyar. I will forthwith remove my unworthy +self from this plane of existence." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You do believe in The Words." + + * * * * * + +"Of course I believe in them! I _know_ 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!" + +"No more, then, on your life, of this weak and cowardly repining! Now, +what of your constructive thinking?" + +"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." + +"That is well." Zoyar's mind seethed with a malevolent ferocity starkly +impossible for any human mind to grasp. "And to that end?" + +"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." + +"And as to the Great Brain?" + +"I have been able to think of nothing, First Lord, to add to the +undertakings you have already set forth." + +"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?" + +"It is." + +"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." + +"It shall be done, First Lord." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The Stretts _knew_ 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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +The Stretts could, and did. + + * * * * * + +When Sandra came back into the office at five o'clock she found Hilton +still sitting there, in almost exactly the same position. + +"Come out of it, Jarve!" She snapped a finger. "That much of _that_ is +just simply too damned much." + +"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." + +"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." + +"No, thank God." + +"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?" + +"That'd be fun." + +And it was. + +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 _terra incognita_ of +the multiple mind, jolting though it had been. + +"But are you sure you can take it again so soon?" Hilton asked. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Point six three eight seconds, sir," the Omans said, holding up a +millisecond timer. + +"How do you explain _that_?" Karns demanded. + +"I'm afraid it means that without Oman backing we're out of luck." + + * * * * * + +Hilton had other ideas, but he did not voice any of them until the +following day, when he was rested and had Larry alone. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"No, sir. We can read only the simplest of the Masters' records. They +arranged our brains that way, sir." + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir. Their numbers became fewer and fewer each century." + +"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...." + +"But _they_ were always the Masters, sir!" + +"They were not! They were hopelessly enslaved. Think it over. Anyway, +say they went _to_ 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 _not_ 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?" + + * * * * * + +"It explains many things, sir. It can very well be the truth." + +"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?" + +"Probably, sir, but ..." + +"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." + +"I'm not sure, sir, but I think so." + +"Nice. Very, _very_ 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?" + +"We do not know of any way, sir. The Masters were always working toward +more power, not less." + +"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?" + +"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 ..." + +"You certainly should. You've been stalling all along, and now you're +stalled. Spill it." + +"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...." + +"Let's talk the same language, shall we? Say 'he' and 'she.' Not 'it.'" + +"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." + +"I knew something was biting her. Why?" + +"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?" + +"No, I hadn't ... I see. So she won't play with fire any more, and none +of the rest of you can?" + +"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." + +"Don't _ever_ 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 _could_ read them?" + +"You have all the old Masters' powers and more. But you must not +assemble them again, sir. It would mean death." + +"But I've got to _know_.... I've _got_ to know! Anyway, a thousandth of +a second would be enough. I don't think that'd hurt me very much." + + * * * * * + +He concentrated--read a few feet of top-secret braided wire--and came +back to consciousness in the sickbay of the _Perseus_, with two doctors +working on him; Hastings, the top Navy medico, and Flandres, the +surgeon. + +"What the hell happened to you?" Flandres demanded. "Were you trying to +kill yourself?" + +"And if so, how?" Hastings wanted to know. + +"No, I was trying not to," Hilton said, weakly, "and I guess I didn't +much more than succeed." + +"That was just about the closest shave I ever saw a man come through. +Whatever it was, don't do it again." + +"I won't," he promised, feelingly. + +When they let him out of the hospital, four days later, he called in +Larry and Tuly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That's printing it in big letters, but that was more or less what they +were after." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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 _something_!" +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.'" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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 ..." + +"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." + +"Shortly before they left, two of the Masters did some work on that very +thing. Tuly and I converted them, sir." + +"Fine--or is it? How did it work out?" + +"Perfectly, sir ... except that they destroyed themselves. It was +thought that they wearied of existence." + +"I don't wonder. Well, if it comes to that, I can do the same. You _can_ +convert me, then." + +"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." + +"Of course. I realize that. Just see what you can do, please, and let me +know." + +"We will, sir, and thank you very much." + + + + +IX + + +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. + +"It can be done, sir, with complete safety. And you will live even more +comfortably than you do now." + +"How long?" + +"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?" + +"I didn't, no. Thanks." + +"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." + +"Close enough." He stared at the Oman. "You could also convert my wife?" + +"Of course, sir." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I'll ... be ... damned...." Hilton gulped twice. "Okay, go ahead." + +"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." + +"We'd add uranexite to our food, I suppose. Or drink radioactives, or +sleep under cobalt-60 lamps." + +"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." + +"How do you--oh, I see. You wouldn't change any molecular linkages or +configurations in the genes or chromosomes." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Hilton gulped twice before he could speak. "You wouldn't be holding +anything else back, would you?" + +"Nothing important, sir. Everything else is minor, and probably known to +you." + +"I doubt it. How long will the job take, and how much notice will you +need?" + +"Two days, sir. No notice. Everything is ready." + +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 _have_ 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." + + * * * * * + +He looked her up and told her everything. Told her bluntly; starkly; +drawing the full picture in jet black, with very little white. + +"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." + +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. + +Her whole body was tense and strained. + +"There's a horrible snapper on that question.... Can't _I_ do it? Or +_anybody_ else except you?" + +"No. Anyway, whose job is it, sweetheart?" + +"I know, but ... but I know just how close Tuly came to killing you. And +that wasn't _anything_ compared to such a radical transformation as +this. I'm afraid it'll kill you, darling. And I just simply couldn't +_stand_ it!" + +She threw herself into his arms, and he comforted her in the ages-old +fashion of man with maid. + +"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." + +She pulled away from him, flung back her wheaten mop and glared. "So +_that's_ 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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I hadn't ought to let you, of course. But I don't think I could take it +alone." + +That statement required a special type of conference, which consumed +some little time. Eventually, however, Temple answered it in words. + +"Of course you couldn't, sweetheart, and I wouldn't let you, even if you +could." + +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. + +All these things were done. + + * * * * * + +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[1] morning. The eight met joyously in +Bachelors' Hall; the girls kissing each other and the men +indiscriminately and enthusiastically; the men cooperating zestfully. + +[1] 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. + +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. + +"Don't _any_ of you, really, see anything different?" + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"That settles it ... it _tears_ it," Karns said then. "Start all over +again, Jarve. We'll listen, this time." + +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?" + +"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 _you_ figured for, +it's a dog in the manger." + +"Huh? You mean you actually _want_ to be a ... a ... hell, we don't even +know _what_ we are!" + +"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 ..." + +"Hold it, Teddy. Use your brain. The Masters couldn't take it--they +committed suicide. How do you figure we can do any better?" + +"Because we'll _use_ our brains!" she snapped. "They didn't. The Omans +will serve us; and that's _all_ they'll do." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +"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 _you_ 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 _both_ just simply and cold-bloodedly +murder you if you try to keep us out." + +"Okay." Hilton looked at Temple; she looked at him; both looked at all +the others. There was no revulsion at all. Nothing but eagerness. + +Temple took over. + +"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 _monsters_!" Temple's voice became a wail. + +"I've said my piece," Teddy said. "You tell 'em, Bill." + +"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 _homo superior_. Bill?" + +"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." + +"I'll say we're drooling," Sandra said. "I could do handstands and +pinwheels with joy." + +"Let's see you," Hilton said. "That we'd all get a kick out of." + +"Not now--don't want to hold this up--but sometime I just will. Bev?" + +"I'm for it--and _how_! And won't Bernadine be amazed," Beverly laughed +gleefully, "at her wise-crack about the 'race to end all human races' +coming true?" + +"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?" + +"No, it hadn't. You've got a point there, Frank. That might take a +little of the curse off of it, at that." + +"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?" + +"Spread it, I'd say," Kincaid said. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"Questions have already been asked and answered," Larry said, going to +the door and opening it. + +Stella rushed in. "We've been hearing the _damnedest_ 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...?" + +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!" + +"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. + +"Hold it, everybody!" Hilton yelled. "Chip-chop it! _Quit_ 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." + +"Not _everybody_, Jarve!" Temple snapped. "We don't want scum, and +there's some of that, even in BuSci." + +"You're so right. Who, then?" + +"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?" + +"I do think;" and the indicated others were sent for; and in a few +minutes arrived. + +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. _There is no way back._ 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He looked at his wife. "Do you suppose _we're_ nuts?" + +"Uh-uh. Not a bit. Alex was right. I'm going to just _love_ it!" She +hugged his elbow ecstatically. "So are you, darling, as soon as you stop +looking at only the black side." + +"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 _will_ be slightly terrific, at that!" + +"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 ..." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And my name is Ames. Oh, goody!" + +"Larry, please tell them to ..." + +"I already have, sir. We are set up to handle four at once." + +"Good boy. So scat, all of you, and get back to work--except Sandy, +Bill, Alex, and Teddy. You four go with Larry." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +At that point in Hilton's cogitations Sawtelle came in. + +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. + +"Why?" Hilton asked. "It's Fuel Bin they've been attacking." + +"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 _dreamed_ of such control!" + +"That's great, and I like it ... and you're only a captain. How many +ships can Five-Jet Admiral Gordon put into space?" + +"That depends on what you call ships. Superdreadnoughts, _Perseus_ +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." + +"I thought it was something like that. How would you like to be Five-Jet +Admiral Sawtelle of the Ardrian Navy?" + +"I wouldn't. I'm Terran Navy. But you knew that and you know me. +So--what's on your mind?" + + * * * * * + +Hilton told him. _I ought to put this on a tape_, he thought to himself, +_and broadcast it every hour on the hour_. + +"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." + +"Is that bad?" Sawtelle was used to making important decisions fast. +"Let's get at it." + +"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." + +"Right. How about you and your people?" + +"Well, as civilians, it won't be as bad...." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Definitely. Now see what you can do about getting me run through your +mill." + +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. + +Then: + +"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." + +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." + +The two then went out into space, to the flagship--which had been +christened the _Orion_--and called in the six commanders. + +"What _is_ all this senseless idiocy we've been getting, Jarve?" Elliott +demanded. + +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." + +The _Orion_ 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 _Perseus_ had +landed on Ardry. + +"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. + +"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." + + + + +X + + +The _Orion_ hung in space, a couple of thousands of miles away from an +asteroid which was perhaps a mile in average diameter. Hilton +straightened up. + +"Put Triple X Black filters on your plates and watch that asteroid." The +commanders did so. "Ready?" he asked. + +"Ready, sir." + +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. + +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. + +And the asteroid vanished. + +It disappeared into an outrageously incandescent, furiously pyrotechnic, +raveningly expanding atomic fireball that in seconds seemed to fill half +of space. + +After ages-long minutes of the most horrifyingly devastating fury any +man there had ever seen, the frightful thing expired and Hilton said: +"_That_ 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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Doris Bryant, the cream of Terra!" Elliott gibed. "_How_ modest our +Samuel has become!" + +"Well, damn it, she is!" Bryant insisted. + +"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?" + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +The _Orion_ hurtled through space back toward Ardry and Hilton, struck +by a sudden thought, turned to the captain. + +"Skipper, why wouldn't it be a smart idea to clamp a blockade onto Fuel +Bin? Cut the Stretts' fuel supply?" + +"I thought better of you than that, son." Sawtelle shook his head sadly. +"That was the first thing I did." + +"Ouch. Maybe you're 'way ahead of me too, then, on the one that we +should move to Fuel Bin, lock, stock and barrel?" + +"Never thought of it, no. Maybe you're worth saving, after all. After +conversion, of course.... Yes, there'd be three big advantages." + +"Four." + +Sawtelle raised his eyebrows. + +"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." + +"Except in the city. Omlu. That's the weak point and would be the point +of attack." + +"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." + +"That's the one I didn't think about." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may be in it up to the eyeballs, Skipper, so don't chortle too +soon." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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 ..." + +"No _money_?" Bryant exclaimed. "How's old Gordon going to pay for his +uranexite, then?" + +"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." + +"Are you sure _I_ belong here?" Bryant asked. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Six heads nodded and there was a flashing interchange of thought among +the four. Temple licked her lips and nodded, and Kincaid spoke. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Alone, I couldn't. But don't underestimate Mrs. Carroll and the Messrs. +Together, and with such a goal, I'm sure we can." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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 _Orion_, have already gone." + +He paused to let the news sink in. + +Thoughts flew everywhere. The irrepressible Stella Wing--_now_ Mrs. +Osbert F. Harkins--was the first to give tongue. "What a _wonderful_ +job! Why, everybody's here that I really like at all!" + +That sentiment was, of course, unanimous. It could not have been +otherwise. Betty, the ex-Ames, called out: + +"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?" + +"Some suasion was necessary," Hilton admitted, with a grin. "Everyone +who isn't here is time-locked into the _Perseus_. Release time eight +hours tomorrow." + +"And they'll wake up tomorrow morning with no Omans?" Bernadine tossed +back her silvery mane and laughed. "Nor anything else except the +_Perseus_? 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?" + +"We have, yes." Hilton read off twelve names. + +"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." + +"What would you suggest?" Hilton asked. + +"'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." + +There was general laughter at that, but the name was approved. + + * * * * * + +About midnight the meeting ended and the _Orion_ set out for Ardvor. It +reached it and slanted sharply downward. The whole BuSci staff was in +the lounge, watching the big tri-di. + +"Hey! That isn't Omlu!" Stella exclaimed. "It isn't a city at all and it +isn't even in the same place!" + +"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." + +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. + +Slowing rapidly now, the _Orion_ flew along due north. + +[Illustration] + +"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 _that_--I swear I didn't!" + +"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." + +"Oh, wonderful!" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +The _Orion_ 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! + + * * * * * + +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?" + +"Why, of course not--I like her as much as you do. And besides--" she +giggled like a schoolgirl--"even if she _is_ 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." + +"You'll see in a minute." And she did. + +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. + +"The Prince," she breathed, in awe. "Da Lormi's Prince of Thebes. The +ultimate bronze of all the ages. _You_ did this, Jarve. How did you ever +dig him up out of my schoolgirl crushes?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +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! + +"It started the minute we left the _Orion_," 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." + +"I could stand it, I suppose. What makes you think so?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +In midair she struggled madly to get into some acceptable position. +Failing, she curled up into a tight ball just before she struck water. + +_What_ a splash! + +"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." + +Temple stopped and looked. The platinum-haired twins had been basking on +the sand, and wherever sand had touched fabric, fabric had disappeared. + +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. + +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. + +"Frank! Oh, Frank!" she called. + +"Over here, Bev." Her husband did not quite know whether to laugh or +not. + +"Is it the radiation or the water? Or both?" + +"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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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.[2], everybody was ravenously hungry. + +[2] Greenwich Mean Time. Ardvor was, always and everywhere, full +daylight. Terran time and calendar were adapted as a matter of course. + +"But why _should_ 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!" + +"Swimming makes everybody hungry," Beverly said, "and I'm awfully glad +_that_ hasn't changed. Why, I wouldn't feel _human_ if I didn't!" + +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. + +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: + +"Drat it, those Omans _still_ want to come in and sleep with us. In the +room, I mean. And they suffer so. They're simply _radiating_ silent +suffering and oh-so-submissive reproach. Shall we let 'em come in?" + +"That's strictly up to you, sweetheart. It always has been." + +"I know. I thought they'd quit it sometime, but I guess they never will. +I _still_ 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?" + +"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. + + * * * * * + +At eight hours next morning all the specialists met at the new Hall of +Records. + +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. + +"I thought I'd seen everything," he remarked. "But yellow pine, spruce, +tamarack, apples, oaks, palms, oranges, cedars, joshua trees and +_cactus_--just to name a few--all growing on the same quarter-section of +land?" + +"Just everything anybody wants, is all," Hilton said. "But are they +really growing? Or just straight synthetics? Lane--Kathy--this is your +dish." + +"Not so fast, Jarve; give us a chance, _please_!" 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 ..." + +"Unless what? Natural shielding?" Hilton asked, and Kathy eyed her +husband. + +"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." + +"Oh? Oh!" These were two of Sandra's most expressive monosyllables, +followed by a third. "Oh. Could be, at that. But how _could_ ... no, +cancel that." + +"You'd better cancel it, Sandy. Give us a couple of months, and _maybe_ +we can answer a few elementary questions." + +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. + +"The First Team doesn't need you now too much, does it, Jarve?" Sawtelle +asked. + +"Not particularly. In fact, I was just going to get back onto my own +job." + +"Not yet. I want to talk to you," and the two went into a long +discussion of naval affairs. + + + + +XI + + +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. + +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? + +"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." + +"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." + +"You can play _that_ in spades. I wish you could do it to me." + +"I can--if you'll take the full Oman transformation. Nothing else can +stand the punishment." + +"I know. No, I don't want to be a genius that badly." + +"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." + +"Oh, you expect, then...?" + +"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?" + +Sawtelle thought for a couple of minutes. "A few details, is all. But +that can be ironed out as we go along." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The _Orion_ 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. + +All too soon, however, the heavily laden tanker appeared in the sky over +Ardane. The _Orion_ joined it; and the two ships slipped into sub-space +for Earth. + + * * * * * + +Three days out, Hilton used his sense of perception to release the +thought-controlled blocks that had been holding all the controls of the +_Perseus_ in neutral. He informed her officers--by releasing a +public-address tape--that they were now free to return to Terra. + +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. + +"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." + +The admiral, outraged almost to the point of apoplexy, came in. +"Sawtelle, report yourself for court-martial at ..." + +"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?" + +"I ... I would vote to accept them, Captain. But that weight! One +hundred twenty thousand _metric tons_--incredible! Are you _sure_ of +that figure?" + +"Definitely. And that is minimum. The error is plus, not minus." + +"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. + +"It's over. Definitely. For good." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"White Sands, please. While there may be some delay in releasing it to +industry ..." + +"While they figure out how much they can tax it?" Sawtelle asked, +sardonically. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Of course. And thanks, Captain. I'll see you at White Sands." + +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." + + * * * * * + +The arrival of the Ardvorian superdreadnought _Orion_ and the _UC-1_ +(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 _UC-1_ 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. + +This was exactly what Hilton had wanted. It made possible the completely +unobserved launching of several dozen small craft from the _Orion_ +herself. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"That simply is not so," she told the instrument firmly, with both eyes +resolutely shut. "They made him stay on the _Perseus_. He won't be in +for at least three days. This is some cretin's idea of a joke." + +"Not this time, Dolly honey. It's really me." + +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. + +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?" + +"_What_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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?" + +"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 _am_ 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?" + +"I promise." Her eyes went wide. "But _tell_ me!" + +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. + +"You mean that we ... that I'll stay just as I am--for thousands of +_years_?" + +"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." + +"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 _this_--but +you're positively _sure_ Sammy Small will be all right?" + +"Positively sure." + +"Okay, I'll call mother...." Her face fell. "I _can't_ tell her that +we'll never see them again and that we'll live ..." + +"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." + +Doris brightened like a sunburst. "And your folks, too, of course?" she +asked. + +"Yes, all the close ones." + +"Marvelous! How soon are we leaving?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Perseus_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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 ..." + +"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'?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Hilton broke the ensuing silence. "You can say with equal truth that +every human being has the _right_ 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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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 +_not_--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." + + * * * * * + +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 ..." + +"We aren't asking you to do _anything_!" 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 _Perseus_, 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 _must_ be done." + +"What other things?" Gordon demanded. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Nothing whatever can drive _me_ mad," Gordon declared, "and I want to +know all about it--right now!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"And you would, I presume, take the _UC-1_ back with you?" + +"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." + +"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 ..." + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +The _UC-1_ 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 _Orion_ 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. + +"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 _UC-1_ back down +where she was and get on with our business here." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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 _Perseus_ 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. + +Wherefore the conference went on, quietly and cooperatively, to its +planned end. + +One minute after the Terran battleship _Perseus_ emerged into normal +space, the _Orion_ went into sub-space for her long trip back to Ardvor. + + * * * * * + +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. + +However, in spite of worry and apprehension, time wore eventlessly on. +The _Orion_ emerged, went to Ardvor and landed on Ardane Field. + +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. + +The Terran immigrants had to live in the _Orion_, 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. + +"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." + +Sam shrugged and grinned. His wife strode purposefully across the room +to the playful pair and lifted their pretended prey out from between +them. + +"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." + +"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 _really_ spoil a baby. Besides, what's +the hurry?" + +"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." + + + + +XII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"This Galaxy only," the Brain radiated, in a texture of thought as hard +and as harsh as Zoyar's own. + +"Why not more?" + +"Insufficient power. My first conclusion is that whoever set up the +specifications for me is a fool." + + * * * * * + +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!" + +"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 ..." + +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. + +"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." + +"... 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." + +"Why not?" Ynos demanded, her thought almost, but not quite, as steady +and cold as it had been. + +"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." + +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. + +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?" + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"Impossible!" Another wave of incredulous and threatening anger swept +through the linked minds; a wave which Ynos flattened out with some +difficulty. + +Then she asked: "Is it probable that we will make contact with this +supposedly superior race in the foreseeable future?" + +"You are in contact with it now." + +"_What?_" 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?" + +"Not exactly or only those humans, no. And your assumptions may or may +not be valid." + +"Don't you _know_ whether they are or not?" Ynos snapped. "Explain your +uncertainty at once!" + +"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." + +The brain gave it. No Strett either complained or interrupted. Each was +too busy studying that formula and examining its stunning implications +and connotations. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Who or what _is_ that race?" Ynos demanded. + +"Data insufficient." + +"Theorize, then!" + +"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." + +"An unpleasant thought, truly," Ynos thought. "But you can now, I +suppose, design the generators and projectors of a force superior to +that screen." + +"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." + +"Are there any other races in this Galaxy more powerful than the +postulated one now living on Fuel World?" + +"Data insufficient." + +"Theorize, then!" + +"Data insufficient." + +The linked minds concentrated upon the problem for a period of time that +might have been either days or weeks. Then: + +"Great Brain, advise us," Ynos said. "What is best for us to do?" + +"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." + +"But not their planetary defenses. I see." Ynos's thought was one of +complete understanding. "And the _real_ offensive will be?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Statistically, that is probably true. But this is the best plan you +have been able to formulate?" + +"It is. Of the many thousands of plans I set up and tested, this one has +the highest probability of success." + +"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." + +[Illustration] + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +What the Great Brain did not know, however, and the Stretts did not +realize, was that it could not really think. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + * * * * * + +When the _Orion_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"These are, of course, only the principal points covered. Does anyone +wish to amend this summation as recorded?" + + * * * * * + +No one did. + +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 _do_ +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?" + +"It isn't that simple, Jarve," Sawtelle said. "Let's hear from you, +Kedy." + +"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." + +"But there's another that we won't," Sawtelle objected. "And maybe they +can build more ships than we can." + +"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?" + +"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'." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"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." + +"_What?_ That makes it infinitely worse. You Kedys, unless it's +absolutely necessary, are _not_ expendable!" + +"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." + +"You mean you're _all_ talking to me?" + +"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." + +"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 _should_ 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. + +"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. + +"By no means, sir," he contradicted. "I have the brain only. The _mind_ +is entirely different." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What are you two talking about?" Sawtelle demanded. + +"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." + + + + +XIII + + +For many weeks the production of Ardan warships and missiles had been +spiraling upward. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_How_ they struck! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +For a moment even Hilton was stunned; but only for a moment. + +"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 _really_ tears +it! Scrap the plan. I'll board the _Sirius_ and take the task-force to +Strett. Bring your stuff along, Skipper, as soon as you're ready." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Or, rather, they were not planned at all. They were simply carried out, +immediately and without confusion. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I told you to stay home, Temple," he said. + +"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." + +"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." + +She stiffened in the circle of his arm. "What's _that_ 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?" + +Hilton started to say something, but Temple rushed heedlessly on: +"_Drat_ the race! No matter how many children we ever have you were +first and you'll _stay_ 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." + +"Now wait a minute, Tempy. The conversion ..." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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." + +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 _stand_ it to go on +living without you!" + +"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. + +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 _Sirius_ was +designed for us." + +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?" + +"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-_uh_! 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." + +"I see.... I'm afraid. We're almost there, darling." + +He glanced at the chronometer. "About eleven minutes. And of course I +don't need to ask you to stay out of the way." + +"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." + +"That'll help, believe me. I'm mighty glad you're along, sweetheart. +Even though both of us know you shouldn't be." + + * * * * * + +The task force emerged. Each ship darted toward its pre-assigned place +in a mathematically exact envelope around the planet Strett. + +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. + +The Stretts _knew_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +It would take practically absolute simultaneity to overload to the point +of burnout to those Strett generators. They were the heaviest in the +Galaxy. + +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. + +Tense and strained, Hilton began his countdown. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +But this time the boosters did not detonate. + +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. + +How even those silicon-fluorine brains stood it, not one of them ever +knew. + +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. + +Imagine, if you can, a constantly and rapidly increasing mass of +plutonium--a mass already thousands of times greater than critical, but +not _allowed_ to react! That gives a faint and very inadequate picture +of what was happening then. + +Finally, at perhaps a hundred thousand times critical mass, and still in +perfect sync, the Vangs all went off. + +The planet Strett became a nova. + +"We won! We _won_!" Temple shrieked, her perception piercing through the +hellish murk that was all nearby space. + +"Not quite yet, sweet, but we're over the biggest hump," and the two +held an impromptu, but highly satisfactory, celebration. + +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. + +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. + +But that, too, was according to plan. + + * * * * * + +Leaving the task force on guard, to counter any move the Stretts might +be able to make, Hilton shot the _Sirius_ 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. + +Correction, please. That was not _all_ 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. + +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. + +Sawtelle drove a thought and those brutal super-drives began to blast. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +No trace survived of any Strett or of any thing, however small, +pertaining to the Stretts. + + + + +Epilogue + + +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. + +Captain Sawtelle--he had steadfastly refused to accept any higher +title--and his wife were teaching two of their tiny grandchildren to +swim. + +In short, everything was normal. + +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 _chug_! +Coming easily to the surface, she shook the water out of her eyes. + +Temple, giving up her attempts to near-drown her husband, rolled over +and floated quietly beside him. + +"You know, this is fun," he said. + +"Uh-_huh_," she agreed enthusiastically. + +"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?" + +"Pretty much ... I guess." Temple didn't seem altogether sure of the +point. "Oh-oh. _Now_ what?" + +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. + +"Oh, no. Not _again_?" Temple wailed. "Don't tell us it's Terra again, +Dark Lady, please." + +"But it is!" Dark Lady cried, excitedly. "And it says 'From Five-Jet +Admiral Gordon, Commanding.'" + +"Omit flowers, please," Hilton directed. "Boil it down." + +"The _Perseus_ 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." + +"Okay, Lady, thanks. Tell 'em we'll call 'em shortly." + +Dark Lady flashed away and Hilton and Temple swam slowly toward a +ladder. + +"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?" + +"Oh, we're not doing too bad," Hilton assured his lovely bride. "Two or +three more sessions ought to do it." + +Everything was normal.... + + +END + + + + +Don't miss the next Galaxy Magazine! + + THE BIG ENGINE + by Fritz Leiber + + CRITICAL MASS + by Pohl & Kornbluth + + THE RAG AND BONE MEN + by Algis Budrys + +And many more, including Willy Ley science column and the great +conclusion of Poul Anderson's THE DAY AFTER DOOMSDAY! February _Galaxy_ +on sale December 10th--ask your newsdealer to reserve it for you! + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +This etext was produced from _Worlds of If_ November 1961 and January +1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on these publications was renewed. + +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. + + + + + +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.txt or 22754.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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