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+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: 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 ***
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