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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48764ba --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51407 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51407) diff --git a/old/51407-h.zip b/old/51407-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 86ccd53..0000000 --- a/old/51407-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51407-h/51407-h.htm b/old/51407-h/51407-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 8fb9ac2..0000000 --- a/old/51407-h/51407-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2613 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sea Legs, by Frank Quattrocchi. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sea Legs, by Frank Quattrocchi - -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/license - - -Title: Sea Legs - -Author: Frank Quattrocchi - -Release Date: March 9, 2016 [EBook #51407] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA LEGS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>SEA LEGS</h1> - -<p>By FRANK QUATTROCCHI</p> - -<p>Illustrated by EMSH</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction November 1951.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>Rootless and footloose, a man in space can't help<br /> -but dream of coming home. But something nobody should<br /> -do is bet on the validity of a homesick dream!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Flight Officer Robert Craig surrendered the tube containing his service -record tapes and stood waiting while the bored process clerk examined -the seal.</p> - -<p>"Your clearance," said the clerk.</p> - -<p>Craig handed him a battered punch card and watched the man insert it in -the reproducer. He felt anxiety as the much-handled card refused for a -time to match the instrument's metal contact points. The line of men -behind Craig fidgeted.</p> - -<p>"You got to get this punched by Territorial," said the clerk. "Take it -back to your unit's clearance office."</p> - -<p>"Look again, Sergeant," Craig said, repressing his irritation.</p> - -<p>"It ain't notched."</p> - -<p>"The hell it isn't."</p> - -<p>The man examined the card with squinting care and nodded finally. "It's -so damn notched," he complained. "You ought to take care of that card; -can't get on without one."</p> - -<p>Craig hesitated before moving.</p> - -<p>"Next," said the clerk, "What you waiting for?"</p> - -<p>"Don't I take my 201 file?"</p> - -<p>"We send it on ahead. Go to Grav 1 desk."</p> - -<p>A murmur greeted the order. Craig experienced the thrill of knowing -the envy of the others. Grav 1—that meant Terra. He crossed the long, -dreary room, knowing the eyes of the other men were upon him.</p> - -<p>"Your service tapes," the next noncom said. "Where you going?"</p> - -<p>"Grav 1—Terra," fumbled Craig. "Los Angeles."</p> - -<p>"Los Angeles, eh? Where in Los Angeles?"</p> - -<p>"I—I—" Craig muttered, fumbling in his pockets.</p> - -<p>"No specific destination," supplied the man as he punched a key on a -small instrument, "Air-lock ahead and to your right. Strip and follow -the robot's orders. Any metal?"</p> - -<p>"Metal?" asked Craig.</p> - -<p>"You know, <i>metal</i>."</p> - -<p>"Well, my identification key."</p> - -<p>"Here," commanded the clerk, extending a plastic envelope.</p> - -<p>Craig moved in the direction indicated. He fought the irrational fear -that he had missed an important step in the complicated clerical -process. He cursed the grudging attitude of the headquarters satellite -personnel and felt the impotence of a spaceman who had long forgotten -the bureaucracy of a rear area base. The knowledge that much of it was -motivated by envy soothed him as he clumsily let himself into the lock.</p> - -<p>"Place your clothing in the receptacle provided and assume a stationary -position on the raised podium in the center of the lock."</p> - -<p>Craig obeyed the robot voice and began reluctantly to remove his flight -jacket. Its incredibly fine-grained leather would carry none of the -strange, foreign associations for the base station clerk who would -appropriate it. He would never know the beautiful, gentle beast that -supplied this skin.</p> - -<p>"You are retarding the progress of others. Please respond more quickly -to your orders."</p> - -<p>Craig quickly removed the last of his clothing. It was impossible -to hate a robot, but one could certainly hate those who set it into -operation.</p> - -<p>"You will find a red button at your feet. Lower your head and depress -that button."</p> - -<p>Stepping on the button with his bare foot produced an instant of -brilliant blue illumination. A small scratch on his arm stung briefly -and he was somewhat blinded by the flash even through his eyelids, but -that was all there was to the sterilizing process.</p> - -<p>"Your clothing and effects will be in the dressing room immediately -beyond the locked door."</p> - -<p>He found his clothing cleanly and neatly hung on plastic hangers just -inside the door to the dressing room. The few personal items he carried -in his pockets were still there. The Schtann flight jacket was actually -there, looking like new, its space-blue unfaded and as wonderfully -pliant as before.</p> - -<p>"Insert your right arm into the instrument on the central table," -commanded the same voice he had heard before. "Turn your arm until the -scratch is in contact with the metal plate. There will be a slight -pain, but it is necessary to treat the small injury you have been -disregarding."</p> - -<p>Craig obeyed and clenched his teeth against a sharp stinging. His -respect for the robot-controlled equipment of bases had risen. When -he withdrew his arm, the scratch was neatly coated with a layer of -flesh-colored plastic material.</p> - -<p>He dressed quickly and was on the verge of asking the robot for -instructions, when a man appeared in the open doorway.</p> - -<p>"I am Captain Wyandotte," said the man in a pleasant voice.</p> - -<p>"Well, what's next?" asked Craig somewhat more belligerently than he -had intended.</p> - -<p>The man smiled. "Your reaction is quite natural. You are somewhat -aggressive after Clerical, eh?"</p> - -<p>"I'm a little anxious to get home, I suppose," said Craig defensively.</p> - -<p>"By 'home' you mean Terra. But you've never been there, have you?"</p> - -<p>"No, but my father—"</p> - -<p>"Your parents left Terra during the Second Colonization of Cassiopeia -II, didn't they?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Craig said. He was uncomfortable; Wyandotte seemed to know all -about him.</p> - -<p>"We might say you've been away quite a while, eh?"</p> - -<p>"I was entered as a spaceman when I was 16," Craig said. "I've never -been down for any period as yet."</p> - -<p>"You mean you haven't been in a gravity system?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I've landed a few times, even walked around for a while...."</p> - -<p>"With the help of paraoxylnebutal," supplied the captain.</p> - -<p>"Well, sure."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Craig, I suppose you've guessed that the next step in our little -torture system here is psych."</p> - -<p>"So I gathered."</p> - -<p>The captain laughed reassuringly. "No, don't put up your guard again. -The worst is over. Short of Gravitational conditioning, there is -nothing to stop you from going to Terra."</p> - -<p>"Sorry, I guess I'm a little touchy. This is my first time...."</p> - -<p>"Quite natural. But it being your first time—in quite a number of -ways, I might add—it will be necessary for you to undergo some -conditioning."</p> - -<p>"Conditioning?" asked Craig.</p> - -<p>"Yes. You have spent eleven years in space. Your body is conditioned to -a normal state of free fall, or at best to a state of acceleration."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, I know. Once on Gerymeade...."</p> - -<p>"You were ill, couldn't keep your balance, felt dizzy. That is why -all spacemen carry PON, paraoxylnebutal, with them. It helps -suppress certain physiological reactions to an entirely new set of -conditions. Channels of the ear, for example. They play an important -part in our awareness of balance. They operate on a simple gravity -principle. Without gravity they act up for a time, then gradually lose -function. Returning to gravity is rather frightening at first."</p> - -<p>"I know all about this, Captain."</p> - -<p>"You've undoubtedly read popularizations in tapezines. But you have -experienced it briefly."</p> - -<p>"I expect to have some trouble at first." Craig was disturbed by the -wordy psychologist. What was the man actually saying?</p> - -<p>"Do you know what sailors of ancient times meant by 'sea legs?'" asked -Wyandotte. "Men on a rolling ocean acclimated themselves to a rolling -horizontal. They had trouble when they went ashore and the horizontal -didn't roll any more.</p> - -<p>"It meant more than that. There were excellent psychological reasons -for the old stereotype, the 'drunken sailor.' A port city was a -frightening thing to an old sailor—but let's begin our little job at -the beginning. I'll turn you over to psychometry for the usual tests -and pick you up tomorrow morning at, say, 0900."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>During the days that followed, the psychologist seemed to Craig to -become progressively more didactic. He would deliver long speeches -about the "freedom of open space." He spoke repetitiously of the -"growing complexity of Terran society." And yet the man could not -be pinned down to any specific condition the spaceman would find -intolerable.</p> - -<p>Craig began to hate the delay that kept him from Terra. Through the -ports of the headquarters base satellite, he scanned the constellations -for the scores of worlds he had visited during his eleven years in -space. They were incredibly varied, even those that supported life. He -had weathered difficult landings on worlds with rip-tide gravities, had -felt the pull of the incredible star-tides imparted by twin and even -triple star systems. He had been on Einstein IV, the planet of eight -moons, and had felt the pulse of all eight of the satellites at once -that no PON could completely nullify.</p> - -<p>But even if he could accept the psychologist's authority for the -cumulative effect of a gravity system, he could not understand the -unspoken warning he felt underlying all that the man said.</p> - -<p>"Of course it has changed," Craig was protesting. "Anyway, I never -really knew very much about Terra. So what? I know it won't be as it -was in tapezines either."</p> - -<p>"Yet you are so completely sure you will want to live out your life -there, that you are willing to give up space service for it."</p> - -<p>"We've gone through this time and time again," Craig said wearily. "I -gave you my reasons for quitting space. We analyzed them. You agreed -that you could not decide that for me and that my decision is logical. -You tell me spacemen don't settle down on Terra. Yet you won't—or -can't—tell me why. I've got a damned good job there—"</p> - -<p>"You may find that 'damned good jobs' become boring."</p> - -<p>"So I'll transfer. I don't know what you're trying to get at, Captain, -but you're not talking me out of going back. If the service needs men -so badly, let them get somebody else. I've put in <i>my</i> time."</p> - -<p>"Do you really think that's my reason?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. What else can it be?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Craig," the psychologist said slowly, "you have my authorization -for you to return to Terra as a private citizen of that planet. You -will be given a very liberal supply of PON—which you will -definitely need. Good luck. You'll need that too."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the eighth day, two attendants, who showed the effects of massive -doses of PON to protect themselves from the centrifugal force, -had to carry a man out of the tank. Many others asked to be removed, -begged to be allowed to withdraw their resignations.</p> - -<p>"The twelfth day is the worst," a grizzled spaceman told Craig. "That's -when the best of 'em want out."</p> - -<p>Craig clenched the iron rung of his bed and struggled to bring the old -man's face into focus.</p> - -<p>"How ... how do they know when you ought ... to come out?" he asked -between waves of nausea.</p> - -<p>"Blood pressure. They get you just before you go into shock."</p> - -<p>"How can they tell?" Craig fought down his growing panic. "I can't."</p> - -<p>"That strap around your belly. You mean you ain't noticed it?"</p> - -<p>"Haven't noticed much of anything."</p> - -<p>"Well, it's keyed to give them some kind of signal."</p> - -<p>The old man lapsed into silence. Craig wished him to continue. He -desperately wanted something to distract his mind from the ghastly -conditioning process.</p> - -<p>Slowly at first, the lines formed by seams in the metal ceiling began -to bend. Here it came again!</p> - -<p>"Old man!" shouted Craig.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, son. They've dropped it down a notch."</p> - -<p>"Dropped ... it ... down?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe that ain't scientific, but it's the way I always think of it."</p> - -<p>"Can't they ... drop it down continuously?"</p> - -<p>"They tried that a few times—once when I was aboard. You wouldn't like -it, kid. You wouldn't like it at all."</p> - -<p>"How ... many times ... do they drop it?"</p> - -<p>"Four times during the day, three at night. Twenty days."</p> - -<p>A nightmare of visual sensations ebbed into Craig's mind. He was -vaguely aware of the moans of other men in the vaultlike room. Wave -upon wave of nausea swept him as he watched the seam lines bend and -warp fantastically. He snapped his eyelids shut, only to begin feeling -the nightmarish bodily sensations once more. He felt the cot slowly -rise longitudinally, felt himself upside down, then the snap of turning -right side up once more—and he knew that neither he nor the cot had -moved so much as an inch.</p> - -<p>Craig heard the voices around him, muffled, as though talking through -wadding.</p> - -<p>"... got it bad."</p> - -<p>"We better take him out."</p> - -<p>"... pretty bad."</p> - -<p>"He'll go into shock."</p> - -<p>"... never make it the twelfth."</p> - -<p>"We better yank him."</p> - -<p>"I'm ... all right," Craig mumbled at the voices. He struggled with the -bonds of his cot. With terrible effort he forced his eyes open. Two -white-clad figures, ridiculously out of proportion, hovered wraithlike -over him. Four elongated eyes peered at him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="589" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><i>Attendants coming for to take me home....</i></p> - -<p>"Touch me and I'll kick your teeth in!" he yelled. "I'm going to Terra. -Wish you were going to Terra?"</p> - -<p>Then it was better. Oddly, he passed the twelfth day easily. By the -fourteenth day, Craig knew he could stand Grav 1. The whine of the -centrifuge's motors had diminished to a low hum. Either that or they -had begun to produce ultra-sonic waves. Craig was not sure.</p> - -<p>Most of the men had passed through the torments of gravitational -conditioning. The huge headquarters base centrifuge aboard the man-made -satellite had gradually caused their bodies to respond once more to a -single source of pull. They were now ready to become inhabitants of -planets again, instead of free-falling ships.</p> - -<p>On the eighteenth day, automatic machinery freed them from their -imprisoning cots. Clumsily and awkwardly at first, the men began to -walk, to hold their heads and arms in proper attitudes. They laughed -and joked about it and kidded those who were slow at adjusting. -Then they again began taking paraoxylnebutal in preparation for the -free-fall flight to Terra.</p> - -<p>Only one of the score of men in the centrifuge tank remained -voluntarily in his cot.</p> - -<p>"Space article violator," the old man informed Craig. "Psycho, I think. -Went amuck with some extraterritorials. Killed a dozen."</p> - -<p>"What will they do, exile him?"</p> - -<p>"Not to Chociante, if that's what you mean. They just jerked his space -card and gave him a one-way ticket to Terra."</p> - -<p>"For twelve murders?" asked Craig incredulously.</p> - -<p>"That's enough, son." The old man eyed Craig for an instant before -looking away. "Pick something to talk about. What do you figure on -doing when you get to Terra, for instance?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going into Import. My father was in it for twenty years."</p> - -<p>"Sure," said the old spaceman, watching a group of young crewmen -engaged in an animated conversation.</p> - -<p>"It's a good job. There's a future to it."</p> - -<p>"Yeah."</p> - -<p>Why did he have to explain anything at all to the old space tramp?</p> - -<p>"Once I get set up, I'll probably try to open my own business."</p> - -<p>"And spend your weekends on Luna."</p> - -<p>Craig half rose from his cot, jarred into anger.</p> - -<p>But the old spaceman turned, smiling wryly. "Don't get hot, kid. I -guess I spent too long in Zone V." He paused to examine his wrinkled -hands. They were indelibly marked with lever callouses. "You get to -thinking anyone who stays closer'n eighty light years from Terra is a -land-lubber."</p> - -<p>Craig relaxed, realizing he had acted childishly. "Used to think the -same. Then I took the exam and got this job."</p> - -<p>"Whereabouts?"</p> - -<p>"Los Angeles."</p> - -<p>The old man looked up at Craig. "You don't know much about Terra, do -you, son?"</p> - -<p>"Not much."</p> - -<p>"Yeah. Well, I hope you ain't disappointed."</p> - -<p>"My father was born there, but I never saw it. Never hit the Solar -System, matter of fact. Never saw much of anything close up. I stood it -a long time, old man, this hitting atmospheres all over the Universe."</p> - -<p>But the spaceman seemed to have lost interest. He was unpacking some -personal belongings from a kit.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing in Grav 1?" Craig asked.</p> - -<p>The old man's face clouded for an instant. "In the old days, they used -to say us old-timers acted like clocks. They used to say we just ran -down. Now they got some fancy psychology name for it."</p> - -<p>Craig regretted his question. He would have muttered some word of -apology, but the old man continued.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you've read some of the old sea stories, or more'n likely had -'em read to you. Sailors could go to sea until they just sort of dried -up. The sea tanned their skins and stiffened their bones, but it never -stiffened their hearts. When they got old, it just pulled them in.</p> - -<p>"But space is different. Space is raw and new. It tugs at your guts. It -sends the blood rushing through your veins. It's like loving. You don't -become a part of space the way you do the old sea, though. It leaves -you strictly alone. Except that it sucks you dry, takes all the soup -out of you, leaves you brittle and old—old as a dehydrated piece of -split leather.</p> - -<p>"Then one day it shoots a spurt of blood around in one of your old -veins. Something gives. Space is through with you then. And if you can -stand this whirligig conditioning, you're through with space."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>You can't figure it. Some of 'em urp all over and turn six shades of -green.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>You got to watch the ones that don't.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Yeah, you got to watch the ones that don't. Especially the old ones.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>He's old. You think it was his heart?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Who knows?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>They'll dump him, won't they?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>After a tracer is sent through. But it won't do any good.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>He probably outlived everybody that ever knew him.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Wouldn't be surprised. Here, grab his leg.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Robert Craig folded the flight jacket tightly and stuffed it into the -cylindrical carton. A sleeve unwound just as he did so, making it -difficult to fit into the place he had made for it. Exasperated, he -refolded it and jammed it in place. Smaller rolls of underclothing were -then fitted in. When he was satisfied with the layer, he tossed in a -small handful of crystals and began to fill the next layer. After the -carton was completely filled, he ignited the sealing strip and watched -as the plastic melted into a single, seamless whole. It was ready for -irradiation. Probably in another ten years his son-to-be would put it -on and play spaceman. But Craig swore he'd make sure that the kid knew -what a stinking life it was.</p> - -<p>At 1300 hours, the ferry bumped heavily alongside the starboard lock. -It was the signal for relief in the passengers' quarters; many were -beginning to feel a reaction to the short free-fall flight from the -headquarters satellite.</p> - -<p>The audio called out: "Flight Officer Robert Craig. Flight Officer -Robert Craig. Report to Orderly 12. Report to Orderly 12 through the -aft door."</p> - -<p>With pangs of anxiety he could not completely suppress, Craig obeyed.</p> - -<p>Orderly 12 handed him a message container.</p> - -<p>"Who's it from? Somebody on Terra?"</p> - -<p>"From a private spaceman named Morgan Brockman."</p> - -<p>"<i>Brockman?</i>"</p> - -<p>"He was with you in the grav tank."</p> - -<p>"The old man!"</p> - -<p>The message container produced a battered punch card. Craig -straightened it and was about to reach into his pocket for a hand -transcriber. But then he noticed the card bore only a few irregular -punches and was covered with rough hand printing.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Son, when the flunkies get around to giving you this, they'll have -shot me out the tube. How do I know? Same way you know when your -turbos are going to throw a blade. It's good this way.</p> - -<p>There's something you can do for me if you want to. Way back, some -fifty years ago, there was a woman. She was my wife. It's a long story -I won't bother you with. Anyway, I left her. Wanted to take her along -with me, but she wouldn't go.</p> - -<p>Earth was a lot different then than it is now. They don't have to tell -me; I know. I saw it coming and so did Ethel. We talked about it and I -knew I had to go. She wouldn't or couldn't go. Wanted me to stay, but -I couldn't.</p> - -<p>I tried to send her some units once in a while. Don't know if she ever -got them. Sometimes I forgot to send them at all. You know, you're way -out across the Galaxy, while she's home.</p> - -<p>Go see her if you can, son. Will you? Make sure she gets the unit -transfer I made out. It isn't much out of seventy years of living, -but she may need it. And maybe you can tell her a little bit about -what it means to be out there. Tell her it's open and free and when -you got hold of those levers and you're trying for an orbit on -something big and new and green.... Hell, you remember. You know how -to tell her.</p> - -<p>Her name is Ethel Brockman. I know she'll still use my name. Her -address is or was East 71, North 101, Number 4. You can trace her -easy if she moved. Women don't generally shove off and not leave a -forwarding address. Not Ethel, at least.</p></div> - -<p>Craig put the battered card in his pocket and walked back through the -door to the passenger room. How did you explain to an old woman why her -husband deserted her fifty years before? Some kind of story about one's -duty to the Universe? No, the old man had not been in Intergalactic. He -had been a tramp spaceman. Well, why <i>had</i> he left?</p> - -<p>Fifty years in space. <i>Fifty</i> years! Zone V had been beyond anybody's -imagination that long ago. He must have been in on the first Cetusian -flights and shot the early landings in Cetus II. God only knew how many -times he had battled Zone 111b pirates....</p> - -<p>Damn the old man! How did one explain?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Craig descended the ramp from the huge jet and concentrated on his -impressions. One day he would recall this moment, his first on the -planet Terra. He tried to recall his first thrill at seeing Los -Angeles, 1500 square miles of it, from the ship as it entered the -atmosphere.</p> - -<p>He was about to step off the last step when a man appeared hurriedly. A -rather plump man, he displayed a toothy smile on his puffy red face.</p> - -<p>"A moment, sir. Just a little greeting from the Terra. You understand, -of course. Purely routine."</p> - -<p>Craig remained on the final step of the ramp, puzzled. The man turned -to a companion at his right.</p> - -<p>"We can see that this gentleman has come from a long, long way off, -can't we?"</p> - -<p>The other man did not look up. He was peering into what seemed to Craig -to be a kind of camera.</p> - -<p>"We can allow the gentlemen to continue now, can't we? It wasn't that -we believed for a minute, you understand ... purely routine."</p> - -<p>Both men were gone in an instant, leaving Craig completely bewildered.</p> - -<p>"You goin' to move on, buddy, or you want to go back?"</p> - -<p>Craig turned to face a line of his fellow passengers up the ramp behind -him.</p> - -<p>"Who was that?" Craig asked.</p> - -<p>"Customs. Bet you never got such a smooth screening before, eh?"</p> - -<p>"You mean he <i>screened</i> me? What for?"</p> - -<p>"Hard to say," the other passenger said. "You'll get used to this. They -get it over with quick."</p> - -<p>Craig made his way toward the spaceport administration building. His -first physical contact with Terra had passed unnoticed.</p> - -<p>"Sir! Sir!" cried a voice behind him.</p> - -<p>He wheeled to see a man walking briskly toward him.</p> - -<p>"You dropped this, sir. Quite by accident, of course."</p> - -<p>Craig examined the small object the man had given him before rushing -off toward an exit.</p> - -<p>It was an empty PON tube he had just discarded. He couldn't -understand why the man had bothered until he realized that the -plastaloid floor of the lobby displayed not the faintest scrap of paper -nor trace of dirt.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Import personnel man was toying with a small chip of gleaming -metal. He did not look directly at Craig for more than an instant at a -time, and commented on Craig's description of his trip through the city -only very briefly between questions.</p> - -<p>"It's a good deal bigger than I imagined," Craig was saying. "Haven't -seen much of it, of course. Thought I'd check in here with you first."</p> - -<p>"Yes, naturally."</p> - -<p>"Thought you could give me some idea of conditions...."</p> - -<p>"Conditions?"</p> - -<p>"For instance, what part of the city I should live in. That is, what -part is closest to where I'll work."</p> - -<p>"I see," said the man noncommittally. It seemed to Craig that he was -about to add something. He did not, however, but instead rose from his -chair and walked to the large window overlooking an enormous section of -the city far below. He stared out the window for a time, leaving Craig -seated uncomfortably in the silent room. There was a distracted quality -about him, Craig thought.</p> - -<p>"You are the first man we have had from the Intergalactic Service," the -personnel man said finally.</p> - -<p>"That so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." He turned to face Craig briefly before continuing. "You must -find it very strange here."</p> - -<p>"Well, I've never seen a city so big."</p> - -<p>"Yes, so big. And also...." He seemed to consider many words before -completing the sentence. "And also different."</p> - -<p>"I haven't been here very long," said Craig. "Matter of fact, I haven't -been anywhere very long. This is my first real experience with life on -a planet. As an adult, anyway."</p> - -<p>The personnel man seated himself once more and pressed a button on a -small instrument. A secretary entered the office from a door to Craig's -left.</p> - -<p>"Miss Wendel, this is Mr. Craig. Mr. Craig, my secretary. Mr. Craig -will enter Minerals and Metals, Zone V."</p> - -<p>They exchanged formal greetings. She was a moderately pretty girl of -medium height and, to Craig, a pleasantly rounded figure. He would have -attempted to catch her eye had she not immediately occupied herself -with unfolding the legs of a small instrument she was carrying.</p> - -<p>"This is Mr. Craig's first landing on Terra, Miss Wendel," the -personnel man continued. "Actually, we shall have to consider him in -much the same way we would an extraterrestrial."</p> - -<p>The girl glanced at Craig, casting him a cool, impersonal smile.</p> - -<p>"He was formerly a flight officer in the Intergalactic Space Service." -The statement was delivered in an almost exaggeratedly casual tone.</p> - -<p>The girl glanced at him once more, this time with a definite quizzical -look in her brown eyes.</p> - -<p>"Three complete tours of duty, I believe."</p> - -<p>"Four," corrected Craig. "Four tours of three years each, minus a -year's terminal leave."</p> - -<p>"I take it you have no identification card?" the man asked.</p> - -<p>"The one I held in the service. It's pretty comprehensive."</p> - -<p>The other turned to the secretary. "You'll see that he is assisted in -filing his application, won't you? A provisional Code II. That will -enable you to enter all Import offices freely, Mr. Craig."</p> - -<p>"Will he need a food and—clothing ration also?" asked the girl, -without looking at Craig.</p> - -<p>"Yes." The man laughed. "You'll excuse us, Mr. Craig. We realize that -you couldn't be expected to be familiar with Terra's fashions. In your -present outfit you would certainly be typed as a ... well, you'd be -made uncomfortable."</p> - -<p>Craig reddened in spite of himself. He had bought the suit on Ghandii.</p> - -<p>"A hick," he supplied.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't go that far, but some people might."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Craig noted the pleasant way the girl filled her trim, rather severe -business suit. He amused himself by calculating stress patterns in its -plain woven material as she assembled the forms for him.</p> - -<p>"Here, Mr. Craig. I believe these are complete."</p> - -<p>"They look pretty complicated."</p> - -<p>"Not at all. The questions are quite explicit."</p> - -<p>Craig looked them over quickly.</p> - -<p>"I guess so. Say, Miss Wendel, I was wondering—I don't know the city -at all. Maybe you could go with me to have dinner. It must be almost -dinnertime now. You could sort of check me out on some...."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid that would be quite impossible. You couldn't gain -admittance to any office you need to visit tonight. Therefore, it is -impossible for me to be of any assistance to you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, come now, Miss Wendel. There are women aboard spaceships. I'm not -a starved wolf."</p> - -<p>"Certainly you are not, Mr. Craig. But it is not possible for me...."</p> - -<p>"You said that already, but you can have dinner with me. Just company."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Galactic hotel strove to preserve an archaic tone of hospitality. -It advertised "a night's lodgings" and it possessed a bellboy. The -bellboy actually carried Craig's plasticarton and large file of punch -cards and forms to his room. Tired from the long, confusing day, Craig -was not impressed. He vaguely wondered if the little drama of the -hotel carried so far as a small fee to be paid the bellboy, and he -hoped he would have the right size of Terran units in his wallet.</p> - -<p>Outside the door to the room, the bellboy stopped and turned to Craig.</p> - -<p>"For five I'll tell you where it is," he said in a subdued tone.</p> - -<p>"Tell me where what is?"</p> - -<p>"You know, the mike."</p> - -<p>"Mike?"</p> - -<p>"All right, mister, three units, then. I wasn't trying to hold you up."</p> - -<p>"You mean a microphone?" asked Craig, mechanically fishing for his -wallet.</p> - -<p>"Sure, they don't put in screens here. Wanted to, but the boss -convinced 'em there aren't any Freedomites ever stay here."</p> - -<p>"Where is the microphone?" Craig asked as he found a ten unit note. -He was too puzzled to wonder what he was expected to do with the -information.</p> - -<p>"It's in the bed illuminator. You can short it out with a razor blade. -Or I'll do it for another two."</p> - -<p>"Never mind," Craig said wearily. He waited while the bellboy inserted -a key into the door and opened it for him.</p> - -<p>"I can get you a sensatia-tape," whispered the boy when they had -entered. He nudged Craig wickedly. "You know what they're like?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah," Craig said disgustedly. Traffic in the illicit mental-image -tapes was known as far into space as lonely men had penetrated. -Intergalactic considered them as great a menace to mental and moral -stability as the hectopiates. Craig wearily got the man out of the -room, took a PON pill, and eased himself into the bed.</p> - -<p>It had been a weird day and he had not liked it. There was no telling -how long it would take him to shake his—sea legs, the psychologist -had called it. One thing was sure: Terra aggressively went after its -strangers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ushered into the room by a sullen and silent secretary, Craig found -himself facing a semi-circular table at which were seated five -uniformed men. The center man, obviously their superior, rose to greet -him. He wore the familiar smile Craig had come to know so well and -hate so much. The man was somewhat over forty years old, short, stout, -entirely unpleasant and puffy.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Craig, I believe," he greeted Craig. Since it seemed to be more -of a statement than a question, Craig did not answer. He took up a -position of more or less military attention at the center of the curved -table.</p> - -<p>"You <i>are</i> Robert Craig," insisted the man.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'm Robert Craig," he answered, somewhat surprised.</p> - -<p>The stout man seated himself with a sigh and began to sort through some -papers on the table before him. The other four men continued to stare -at Craig silently, until he began to feel uncomfortable and hostile. He -stiffened his position of attention defiantly.</p> - -<p>"You may relax, Mr. Craig," said the first man without looking up. "You -aren't nervous, are you?"</p> - -<p>"No," Craig said, trying to smile. "This is the first time I've been -here and...." He let the sentence trail off, hoping for a sympathetic -response. But he did not get it.</p> - -<p>"Flight Officer, eh?" said the man. Then, looking up, he added, -"Somewhat unusual to find a vigorous young man like yourself abandoning -the space service for a Terran job, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Is it?"</p> - -<p>"Leaving something behind out there, Mr. Craig?"</p> - -<p>"No, nothing," Craig snapped.</p> - -<p>The other man glared at him a full minute. Craig met the stare and -realized the considerable power behind the weak face.</p> - -<p>"You don't like this sort of affair, do you, Mr. Craig?"</p> - -<p>Craig was forced to look away. "I'm afraid I don't see the necessity," -he answered in a controlled voice. "I served the Intergalactic Service -well. My records prove that."</p> - -<p>"Granted," said his questioner bluntly. "You are a Terran, are you not, -Mr. Craig?"</p> - -<p>"I should think that would be obvious," Craig said, matching the blunt -tone.</p> - -<p>The man rapped the table. "That's enough of your impertinence! You may -very well have served the Intergalactic Service, but you are on Terra -now. Terra, greatest, first of all civilized systems. Intergalactic may -very well have to piddle with incompetent savages and wild colonists, -but we of Terra assert our supremacy. Remember those words. You may not -always find Terra so submissive to Intergalactic as Intergalactic would -desire."</p> - -<p>"Where are your loyalties, Mr. Craig?" demanded one of the other men -suddenly.</p> - -<p>"I am a Terran...."</p> - -<p>"But your first loyalty is to Intergalactic. Is that right?"</p> - -<p>"Is there a distinction?" Craig shot back, thoroughly angry.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish to be held in contempt of this committee?" asked the first -man, leaning forward half out of his chair.</p> - -<p>"Of course not."</p> - -<p>"Then you will confine your responses to simple yes and no answers, if -you please, <i>Mr.</i> Craig."</p> - -<p>Craig glared at the men in impotent rage. His head was beginning to -ache. He had been many hours without paraoxylnebutal.</p> - -<p>"Now, Mr. Craig," the first man began in an overly mild tone, "we shall -begin again. Please try to restrain your show of emotion. You are -here in petition of an identity card of provisional Code II type. You -maintain that you have never been on Terra before. Indeed, you state -that you have never had a political affiliation."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"What are your reactions to the latest acts of the Liberty party?" a -third man abruptly asked.</p> - -<p>"I have none," Craig answered, after an instant of confusion.</p> - -<p>"You do not condemn the Liberty party?"</p> - -<p>"I ... I...."</p> - -<p>"Then you must favor it."</p> - -<p>"I don't know anything about any...."</p> - -<p>"Now, then, Mr. Craig," interrupted the head of the group. "The Import -service report shows that you passed your tests aboard your ship. You -were enabled to accomplish this through night study."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Yet you maintain in your application that you had considered the space -service a career."</p> - -<p>"I changed my mind."</p> - -<p>"Oh. You changed your mind. I see...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"What do you do if they turn you down on your food ration?" Craig asked -the man by his side on the bench. He had intended it as a vaguely -humorous question.</p> - -<p>"You don't eat."</p> - -<p>"You mean they would actually let you starve?"</p> - -<p>"If you could not eat, you would starve," the man said matter-of-factly.</p> - -<p>"What's all this for, anyway? I mean the medical part."</p> - -<p>"You are rationed fairly in accordance with your particular metabolism."</p> - -<p>"You're kidding."</p> - -<p>"One does not jest of such matters," said the man, getting up to take a -seat on another bench.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>But I'd like to keep it as a souvenir.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>It is not permitted.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Look, it isn't issue. I bought the hide, had it made. I can pull off -the marks of insignia and it's just another jacket....</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>That is not the point, Mr. Craig. Your clothing ration is defined by -law. There are no exceptions.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>These are your permanent quarters. You will occupy them immediately. -Then, if you believe the location is wasteful of your time, you must -petition the appropriate committee. This department cannot accept such -a petition.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>Your petition to be permitted to purchase a private means of -conveyance is hereby denied.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The big man leaned far back in the battered desk chair. It creaked -at worn joints, but touched the wall without sliding from under its -enormous load. The man was silent through Craig's long, confused -speech. By turns he examined his fingernails, picked at yellowed teeth, -and stared above his head at the discolored ceiling.</p> - -<p>"... but you can get all this from ISS, maybe even from Import, if -they'll release my file," Craig argued.</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh," the big man said between closed lips.</p> - -<p>"I just made a mistake, that's all. You don't hear much about Terra -out there. It was different in my father's day. It must have been -different."</p> - -<p>"Yeah."</p> - -<p>"I haven't any character references on Terra, but I can post a -good-sized bond if they'll release my ISS units."</p> - -<p>The space-freight agent glanced up at Craig at the remark.</p> - -<p>"Anyway, I can get my units anywhere ISS has a base," Craig -continued. "I can handle anything up to 15 Gs acceleration without a -new license. I can go heavier if I get a check ride."</p> - -<p>The fat man leaned forward in the protesting chair. "You got -everything, but you can't go. I can't hire you."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Look, kid—Craig, is it?—how long you been in?"</p> - -<p>"Four days. I'm still working on my work clearances."</p> - -<p>"Four days. You tried Intergalactic to see if they'd take you back?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Their hands are tied by my Terran contract."</p> - -<p>"And ours aren't, eh?" The man rose from the desk and walked to a water -tap. He popped a pill into his gaping mouth and drank from a tin cup. -Then he returned to the inadequate chair. "So you're a spaceman. Flight -officer—<i>ex</i>-flight officer. You know how to navigate through four -star zones and the asteroid belt thrown in. You got a license for 15 -Gs, could get five more. You got enough brains to pass Import's senior -router's exam.</p> - -<p>"Still, you ain't got enough sense to come in out of the rain!"</p> - -<p>Craig sat upright in his chair.</p> - -<p>"We get guys like you two, three a day. You're hot. You're big. You're -rarin' to go. But you ain't goin' nowhere!"</p> - -<p>Craig glared at the big man.</p> - -<p>"I don't know how you got here, Craig. It ain't none of my business. -Maybe you did quit honorable. Quit to follow your daddy's footsteps. Or -maybe you went and burned up a colony somewhere!"</p> - -<p>"That would be in my records, wouldn't it?" Craig challenged.</p> - -<p>"It still don't make any difference. You're stuck here. Nobody leaves -Terra without a permit. Nobody. You couldn't get a permit with a -crowbar and a blaster. You got a problem, son. You asked for it. Maybe -they told you beforehand, maybe they didn't. You got a problem of -adjustment. Terra's moved a long, long way since your daddy left it. -We're doing things here. We're going places. Big things and big places.</p> - -<p>"You got to fit into that, kid. Fit in quick. Move with it. You don't -like the red tape, the committees? I don't like 'em either. But I been -here a while. I can cut red tape. Red tape is for guys like you, guys -that don't know Terra, don't know where we're going.</p> - -<p>"Stick around, kid. You still got sea legs. You're still hopped up on -PON. You're going to like it here on Terra. You're going to like it -great. You can make a quick dollar on Terra. You can spend a quick -dollar here too. Smarten up or you'll finish scrubbing radioactive dust -off girders!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The girl approached his table, her hard eyes scanning him. Wordlessly -she slid into the booth opposite him and made a sign for the bartender.</p> - -<p>"Have a drink?" Craig suggested, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Yeah."</p> - -<p>"Work here?"</p> - -<p>"What you mean by that?"</p> - -<p>"I mean if you get a percentage on the drinks, I can...."</p> - -<p>"I don't get no percentage."</p> - -<p>The bartender brought them a version of N'cadian taz. The girl slouched -in the booth and sullenly tapped the glass. The lights in the bar had -dimmed to simulate some kind of planetary night. The walls came alive -with projected images of Terran constellations. On their table, a globe -lamp began to glow. Tiny bright lights swung orbits around a miniature -sun inside the lamp.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="600" height="497" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>As a miniature Pluto swung on its slow arc, an image of it was -projected on the girl's dusky face. She seemed to be staring at -nothing.</p> - -<p>"Why d'you call me over here? You a purist, or don't you like the brand -of sensatia-tapes they're peddlin' these days?"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand," Craig said.</p> - -<p>She smiled crookedly at him. Not a bad face, Craig decided, but hard, -hard as the ceramiplate of a ship. She could not be very old. It was -the kind of wild look in her eyes that gave her a false appearance of -age.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you're writing a book—you got me over here for something."</p> - -<p>"I just got in," Craig answered.</p> - -<p>"What am I supposed to do for this drink?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Nothing at all. I suppose. I thought ... just skip it. I'm -lonesome, that's all."</p> - -<p>"Lonely, huh?" said the girl. "Lonely and just in, huh? Just in from -space." She turned away from him to signal the bartender. "What you -need is drinks."</p> - -<p>There were more drinks. Many more drinks. The girl kept them coming, -kept talking to him about—what was it? Craig looked at the girl and -then at the globe lamp. He watched as the tiny bright orbs of light -projected their images on the girl opposite him. He was aware of the -gradual dimming of the lights, the suppression of sound in the bar. He -watched the tiny lights of other globes appear around shadows, watched -as the lights traced fiery trails across the dusky skin of the girl -opposite him, watched as they crossed the warm, rounded flesh....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>I tell ya we didn't give him nothing but a coupla tazes.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>The pump will determine that. You might as well tell the truth.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>I am tellin' the truth. He drank, let's see ... two, three.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Four, five, six. You let her pump him full.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Hey, look, this guy's a spaceman, or was.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>I didn't know that. Honest I didn't. He never told us.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>All right, you didn't know. What you put in those tazes—ether?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>We denature the polyester just like the law says.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>And you get it straight from M'cadii, eh?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>We put in some syn. So what? That ain't against the law.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>He's probably got grav trouble, Chief.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Who was the girl?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Girl? What girl?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>You know what girl!</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Just a girl, like a million of 'em these days.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Professional?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>There ain't any any more. You know, sensatia-tapes.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Know her name?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>I don't ask no names. How you going to know names? She's a girl. Just -like ten million of 'em these days.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>What you think a guy like this is doing here, Chief?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Why not?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Well, look at his clothes. He's got units, too. Can't figure that -out. She must've been after something else.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>How about his clothing and food tickets?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Uh ... that's it. She got his tickets.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Come on, give me a hand. Lug him into the hold.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The hard face of the Civil Control chief peered down at him. It was -a thick, red face that displayed no trace of feeling except perhaps -toughness. It was long yet full, and it contained the proper features; -but it added nothing of expression to the harsh, rasping voice.</p> - -<p>"First time in, eh? Or else Central's too damned lazy to check the -file. Okay, I ain't going to cite you. Waste of time. But listen to me. -You got problems, we got problems. You solve yours and don't come back -here."</p> - -<p>Craig was aware of officers glowering at his back as he fumbled with -the door button. The door opened onto a city street. It was entirely -foreign to Craig. It was not a clean, straight thoroughfare at the -bottom of a canyon of towering white buildings and contrived but bright -parks. It was an old street, a dirty street; an incredible welter of -color and line, of big and little shops, of dirty human shapes in -drab gray. A flood of tone and noise hit Craig as he emerged from the -station and descended the long, broad steps.</p> - -<p>Craig's head was in a whirl despite the strong dose of paraoxylnebutal -he had taken in the station clinic. He felt closed in and befogged. He -could remember almost nothing of the night in Civil Control. Even the -clinic was fading from his memory. He was aware that he stank, that he -was dirty, that his clothing clung to his body. He was miserable.</p> - -<p>He must call Import. He was due to begin work this morning, his period -of personal adjustment complete. Instead, Craig turned and began to -walk. He could not carry on a coherent conversation in his present -state. He could never find his way unassisted back to his apartment; -he was not even sure he remembered the address. But the thought of -returning to his quarters, to Import sickened him.</p> - -<p>What <i>was</i> his address? East 71, North.... No, that would be old lady -Brockman. The association irritated him. He had completely forgotten -the unwanted assignment, had forgotten to inquire where the address -could be found.</p> - -<p>Craig became aware of the heavy flow of vehicular traffic that roared a -scant eight feet away. Large surface carriers whistled in the nearest -lane of the complex four-lane pattern. Then there were the private -surface craft; they were of many sizes and shapes. He guessed that -they were turbine-powered, but he could not identify the odor of their -exhausts.</p> - -<p>There was an odd, unreal quality about the busy thoroughfare. Even -myriad sounds from it were sounds he had never heard before and could -not break down into their component parts.</p> - -<p>Craig became aware of other humans, many of them, on the sidewalk. -Again they were of a class that he could not identify. They had none -of the brisk, purposeful stride of those he had seen near Import. -They lacked also the graceful, colorful dress. Their faces, so far -as he could separate them from the blurring film over his eyes, were -different.</p> - -<p>They seemed somehow <i>looser</i> faces, though Craig did not know exactly -what he meant by the term. They were not tight, pinched, set, as were -the faces he had seen before on Terra. There were bulbous noses, large -ears, squint eyes, disheveled hair, the men's and women's faces -strangely similar. Some were young, some old, but few were hard or -fixed. They seemed more plastic, more full of expression than those he -had come to know elsewhere in the city. He felt an inexplicable craving -to know someone of this strange street.</p> - -<p>"You looking for something, mister?" asked a voice near him.</p> - -<p>Craig turned to find a middle-aged man eying him from the doorway of an -empty building.</p> - -<p>"I got it," the man added.</p> - -<p>"Got what?" Craig asked.</p> - -<p>"Anything a guy just outa the can would want."</p> - -<p>"What would a 'guy just outa the can' want that you have?" Craig -examined the weathered, sharp face. It was an unpleasant one, but it -belonged to this street; it would do to tell him what he wanted to know -of the place.</p> - -<p>"Follow me." The man quickly inserted a magnikey into the door of the -vacant store building.</p> - -<p>"There's a station just up the street," Craig warned.</p> - -<p>"Sure. So what?"</p> - -<p>The empty room was dusty and dark and received little light through -the grimy display windows that faced on the street. What kind of store -it had been, Craig could not guess. The man led him through a kind of -storage room which was piled high with moldy paper cartons and back to -a rear door. With quick, dextrous movements, the man swung an ancient -bar assembly and pushed open the rear door. It led to a litter-strewn -yard enclosed by rough, eroded shacks and a wooden garage.</p> - -<p>They entered the garage through a creaking hinged door. It was a dank, -almost completely dark room. Craig stumbled over something on the floor -and fell against a packing box of some kind.</p> - -<p>"Just stand still," said the man. He was shuffling invisibly about in -the darkness. Craig could hear him opening a kind of cabinet or drawer -while saying in a steady monotone, "You got the right man, mister. My -stuff is pure. You can test it. But you'd rather <i>drink</i> it, right?"</p> - -<p>For the tenth time, Craig asked himself why he had accepted the furtive -invitation. The thought of this man's kind of intoxicant—however -'pure'—nauseated him. Nevertheless, he felt himself compelled by a -kind of insatiable curiosity to follow out the part he had accepted. -Perhaps through this man, through this somehow fascinating street, he -could....</p> - -<p>"You got ten; I know that. Maybe you got more, huh?" the man -interrupted his confused train of thought.</p> - -<p>"What makes you think I got ten?" Craig asked. He did not know himself -how many units his wallet contained—certainly not after the previous -night.</p> - -<p>"Don't get sore. I'm honest. But I know you got ten. Otherwise you -wouldn't have got out of the station."</p> - -<p>The lack of clearly defined objects by which to orient himself in the -darkness of the garage made his head begin to swim once more. He wanted -to leave.</p> - -<p>"Don't get scared, buddy. They don't ever come in here."</p> - -<p>Craig fumbled for support in the darkness. He was afraid he would be -sick. Fulfillment for the half-formed plan that was beginning to take -shape in his mind would not come with the bootlegger. It would come -into being somehow in the tawdry street he had just left, only he did -not know how.</p> - -<p>"They don't really go after polyester. They don't want to stop the -stuff. It makes their job easier. You don't have to worry, buddy. Come -on, how much you want? You might have trouble finding more for a while."</p> - -<p>Craig said nothing. He fumbled for a grip on a packing box.</p> - -<p>"You're from Out, aren't you, buddy? You ain't used to us here yet. -Most of my customers are from Out. What jam'd you get into?"</p> - -<p>"I got ten units, I think," Craig evaded.</p> - -<p>"It ain't none of my business what you done. Nobody around here is -going to ask you any questions. Long as you got units, you get poly -like the big shots that come over here all the way from Uptown."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Craig. "Gimme what I get for ten units and let's beat it -out of here."</p> - -<p>"Myself, I never been Out. Not even Luna. Never wanted to. I stay here -and have my little business—you can call it a business. You'll see, -buddy, there are millions of guys like me. The controllers don't stop -us. We're respectable. A damned sight more respectable than those...."</p> - -<p>"All right," snapped Craig. "Let's get out of here."</p> - -<p>"You got it bad, huh? This poly will fix that up. It's pure. You just -come back to old Nave and get poly."</p> - -<p>"How ... how you get out of here?" asked Craig, nauseated.</p> - -<p>"Get lost pretty easy in the dark, huh?" The man was beginning to mock -him.</p> - -<p>Craig lashed out suddenly at the unseen face in the darkness. He caught -the thin throat in his left hand. His right left the packing box and -cocked to deliver a blow. But he began to fall and had to let go.</p> - -<p>"Okay, buddy, okay," the other man said soothingly as Craig was forced -to catch himself. "I <i>like</i> ex-spacemen. I know lots of you. I sell -you poly. You don't want to get tough with me."</p> - -<p>He shoved a block of ten small cubes into Craig's hand and, while Craig -fished for his wallet, he produced a tiny, narrow-beamed flash. The -transaction was quickly over. The cube was small enough to be forced -without much difficulty into Craig's jacket pocket.</p> - -<p>The man led him back across the littered yard, through the empty store -building, and out the front door. When Craig emerged onto the street -once more, a uniformed figure was standing nearby.</p> - -<p>"He'll need two," whispered the man from behind him.</p> - -<p>Craig reached into his pocket and mechanically fumbled two of the small -cubes of waxlike substance from the loose package. He placed them on -the outstretched hand of the Civil Control officer. The officer did not -look in his direction at any time, but accepted the offer and walked -slowly on toward the station.</p> - -<p>Craig continued aimlessly down the long street. His head cleared as -he walked and once more began to form a kind of vague plan. There was -anonymity to a street such as this. There was also a kind of freedom. -Everywhere in the universe, there were such streets. Neutralized -streets, where a kind of compromise was reached between law and -lawlessness. They were permitted because it was always necessary to -provide such a place for those who were not permitted elsewhere. Those -who would not fit, could not be "rehabilitated," could neither be -jailed nor permitted complete freedom.</p> - -<p>Controllers of one kind or another patrolled such streets, keeping them -in a kind of check—or, more accurately, in a kind of containment. But -no amount of control would ever completely stamp out the likes of Nave, -the bootlegger.</p> - -<p>Perhaps here, on this street, Craig could be "lost." Here he might find -security for a time in anonymity, security and time to find a way ... -to what? He did not know.</p> - -<p>"Mister! Mister!" cried a thin, high voice from somewhere to his left. -"Here, quick!"</p> - -<p>It was a young boy of perhaps nine or ten. Craig caught sight of him as -he motioned urgently. He wore a shabby, torn version of what appeared -to be a space service uniform.</p> - -<p>"I'm not buying anything, son," Craig said, pausing briefly.</p> - -<p>"Come here, quick!" insisted the boy, his eyes large in a dirty face. -"You already bought too much."</p> - -<p>The boy was motioning him to follow. He had stepped between two -buildings. Craig approached him with suspicion.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?"</p> - -<p>"Slip in here quick! You bought from Nave the peddler. You bought poly, -didn't ya?"</p> - -<p>"How did you...." Craig began.</p> - -<p>"Tell you later. Slip through here quick or they'll send you to -<i>Hardy</i>!"</p> - -<p>The genuine fear of the youngster conveyed itself to Craig. With effort -he forced his body through the space between the old buildings. At -first he did not intend to follow the boy, but only to stop him for an -explanation. The boy, however, continued down the tight corridor formed -by the buildings.</p> - -<p>"There's a window soon," he said from ahead of Craig. "Hurry. You lost -time with that peddler."</p> - -<p>Lost time? Cursing himself for becoming involved again in something he -did not understand, Craig nevertheless followed as best he could. It -was a tight squeeze and he found himself becoming breathless.</p> - -<p>"Dive down!" shouted the boy, looking back with terror in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Instinctively Craig did so. The rough walls tore at his suit.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" shouted a voice from behind Craig. "Stop or we fire!"</p> - -<p>Craig suddenly felt the sill of a window which opened into the -building to his left. He quickly pulled himself into it. There was a -sickening whine and a part of the window disintegrated in a cloud of -splinters and plaster.</p> - -<p>"Through here," said the boy from the semi-darkness. "They'll blast -their way inside in a minute!"</p> - -<p>Craig found himself in another empty building. He followed the boy -through a doorway and felt his way as he half ran along the dark hall.</p> - -<p>"Who are <i>they</i>?" he panted.</p> - -<p>"Controllers."</p> - -<p>"Civil Control?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. You must be pretty important. I didn't get it all. But they say -the controllers checked up on you after.... I'll explain later."</p> - -<p>The hall ended in a dim room piled high with plasmolite packing boxes -in great disarray. The boy chose a box and lifted a lid.</p> - -<p>"Follow me. It's a passage."</p> - -<p>"Where to?"</p> - -<p>"No time now. Down here."</p> - -<p>The passage, which seemed to be constructed of plasmolite boxes, seemed -somehow lit by daylight, although Craig could not actually see the -source of the light.</p> - -<p>The tunnel ended in broad afternoon daylight. As he climbed out he saw -a large clearing surrounded by ruins.</p> - -<p>"We're just inside the old city," the boy said. "We're safe now—unless -those controllers are willing to take more chances than I think."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, son. You said 'old city.' You mean that this is a part -of pre-war Los Angeles?"</p> - -<p>"Well, sure."</p> - -<p>"But that's supposed to be...."</p> - -<p>"Radioactive? Most of it, anyway. Good thing, too. Otherwise we'd have -no place to go."</p> - -<p>"Look, kid, you better explain," said Craig. "You were right about -somebody being after me, but I don't get the 'we' business. Or how you -knew all about this."</p> - -<p>"All right, mister, but let's get away from here. Those guys won't come -through to here, even if they find a way—I don't think. But they're -gettin' smarter and you're pretty hot right now."</p> - -<p>The boy led the way to what appeared to be a completely demolished -building.</p> - -<p>"Used to be the old library," he said.</p> - -<p>They circled the heap of plaster, brick, and twisted steel. On the -other side Craig saw what appeared to be a window. The boy let himself -down through it.</p> - -<p>Craig was amazed to find a large, relatively clear area inside, -probably part of an old room that had been spared by some freak of the -blast.</p> - -<p>"You <i>live</i> here?" Craig asked the youngster incredulously.</p> - -<p>"Part of the time." The boy brought up an old crate and offered it to -Craig as a chair. "Listen, mister, I don't know who you are. You're an -ex-spaceman and that's enough for me." There was a slightly amusing -attempt at adult hardness about him. "You shouldn't have wasted time -with Nave. You should have got out of there."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. What you done, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"I don't remember. Passed out at a bar...."</p> - -<p>The boy showed disgust. He glanced at the pocket which contained the -polyester.</p> - -<p>Craig smiled. "I don't use this stuff. At least not enough to deserve -what you're thinking." He tossed the remaining cubes on the littered -floor of the room.</p> - -<p>The boy maintained his look of scorn for a time, but then softened. "I -was afraid you got kicked out of the service for that."</p> - -<p>"How did you know I was ever in it?"</p> - -<p>"Easy. You don't know how to walk on a planet yet. Anybody can tell."</p> - -<p>"I didn't get kicked out," Craig said. "I came here to take a civil -service job."</p> - -<p>"It'd almost be better if you had been."</p> - -<p>"I didn't know about Terra. None of us had any idea."</p> - -<p>"I know," said the boy sadly. "My father quit, too. <i>He</i> quit to marry -my mother. That was before it was ... so bad."</p> - -<p>"Where—" Craig began, then bit off the question.</p> - -<p>"Oh, gee, mister, Terra's in an <i>awful</i> bad shape! They took ... my -parents. They hunt us down. They...."</p> - -<p>Craig approached the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's your -name, son?"</p> - -<p>"Phil."</p> - -<p>"Phil what?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know exactly. My father had to use so many names toward -the ... end. He once had only one name, but I guess even he forgot what -it was."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They prepared to spend the night in the old library room, but first -Phil left it and made his way into the wilderness of rubble. He -returned dragging a packing box of plastic insulating material, out of -which they fashioned a crude bed. Despite the thousands of questions -that paraded across Craig's mind, he waited each time for the boy to -speak.</p> - -<p>"I can't take you any further until...."</p> - -<p>"Until you know more about me?"</p> - -<p>"In a way. <i>They'll</i> let me know."</p> - -<p>Craig would have risked much to identify the "they" Phil referred to, -but he did not ask the question. As he watched the boy preparing the -dimly lit room for the night, he felt sure Phil could be trusted. He -was almost frighteningly mature for his age.</p> - -<p>The room was well hidden, for the once great library lay in a powdered -ruin about it on all sides but a part of one. Only by accident or -knowledge would a stranger recognize it in what was literally a world -of rubble. During the moments of silence between the boy's volunteered -statements, Craig tried to visualize the awful catastrophe that had -befallen the old city. Piles of powdered masonry restricted his view -greatly under the gathering night. He could see a scant city block -through the window, but he knew the wreckage around them must extend -for miles.</p> - -<p>"You don't have to worry, mister...."</p> - -<p>"Craig."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Craig. They don't come in here at night."</p> - -<p>"Radioactivity?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Not right here, but all around, everywhere."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"It's all around us. You go through it to get here, but you can't -<i>stay</i> anywhere but a few places like this."</p> - -<p>"How do you know all of these things, Phil?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, we know, all right. We had to find out."</p> - -<p>"You must have ion counters," he said in what he hoped was a casual -tone.</p> - -<p>"We have lots of things."</p> - -<p>Craig was thoughtful for a minute. The boy was obviously on his guard -now.</p> - -<p>"Those empty buildings?" Craig asked tentatively.</p> - -<p>"They built them too close," said the boy. It seemed to be a safe -subject. "They built them up as close as they thought was safe. Space -is very valuable here. But they built them too close."</p> - -<p>"Yet the 'we' you speak of live even closer?"</p> - -<p>The boy bit his lip and eyed him suspiciously in silence.</p> - -<p>"Look, kid," Craig said very deliberately, "I'm not a controller and -I'm not interested in a bunch of petty thieves."</p> - -<p>The effect was just what he had intended. "We're <i>not</i> thieves! And -we're not traitors, either! We're...."</p> - -<p>The boy was almost in tears. Craig waited a moment, then continued in -a soft voice. "Phil, I'm just beginning to realize what a rotten place -Terra is. From just what I've seen—it isn't very much—I can imagine -such a system producing a great many 'we' groups like yours. I don't -know who you are or what you are, but you can't be any worse than what -I've already seen of Terran officials. Tell me, kid, what's it all -about? And is there any way out of here? I mean—<i>way</i> out!"</p> - -<p>"You may tell him, Philip," said a quiet voice from the window -entrance. "Like us, Philip, Mr. Craig is an enemy of tyranny, though he -doesn't realize it yet."</p> - -<p>Craig instinctively jumped back to get out of range of the window, -meanwhile feeling around for something that could be used as a weapon. -But the boy ran to the silhouetted figure in the window.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Sam!" he cried eagerly.</p> - -<p>Craig relaxed his hold on a strip of heavy metal. When the man had -entered, the boy pulled a ragged black cloth across the window once -more. He then ignited a small oil burning lamp in a carved-out nook in -the wall.</p> - -<p>"It's all right, Philip, nobody is following me," the newcomer said.</p> - -<p>Craig studied his face. It was an old face covered by a stained gray -beard. With a shock Craig recognized the man as a tramp he had seen -earlier on the street, napping, sprawled in a doorway. Now for the -first time he saw the eyes. Sharp and clear, they caught up the yellow -light of the oil lamp and glowed warmly as they turned to Craig.</p> - -<p>"I am 'Mr. Sam,' Mr. Craig. You might know me by the full name, -Samuel Cocteau, but I doubt it. Even the names of the infamous do not -penetrate space."</p> - -<p>"I guess not," Craig agreed. "But you said something about my being an -enemy of tyranny."</p> - -<p>"Whether you like it at once or not, you are temporarily one of us—one -of the 'we' Philip has been speaking of. But all of that in due time. -Right now it is necessary for us to leave here."</p> - -<p>"They're going to try to find us <i>tonight</i>?" asked Phil, startled.</p> - -<p>"Yes, a tribute to Mr. Craig," said the old man. "A Geiger team is -being readied at the station."</p> - -<p>Craig started to protest as the boy began hurriedly to pick up his few -possessions in the room.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Craig," the man said. "I must ask you to decide now -whether to trust us and our judgment. There is grave danger for you -if you are caught by the Civil Control. The report I have received is -that you are largely unaware of the 'crimes against the state' you have -committed. The Civil Control hoped to capture you before you find them -out. But that, of course, is my word only. There is no time to give you -proof, even if I had it."</p> - -<p>Craig's mind whirled under the sudden onslaught of new facts. He -had followed a peddler without knowing why he did it. He had bought -polyester he had no use for. He had followed a boy who beckoned to -him. Now—how much longer was he to move haphazardly through Terra like -a cork on a wind-blown sea? Who were these strange fugitives who said -he was one of them and who lived in the heart of a radioactive city?</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Craig?" asked Cocteau quietly.</p> - -<p>Craig glanced at the boy. The child's eyes were wide and pleading in -the dim light of the oil lamp.</p> - -<p>"Let's go," Craig said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Darkness was swiftly falling on the wilderness of heaping ruin. The -three made their way toward what Craig at first thought was an unbroken -wall of rubble. The near-horizontal rays of the sun tipped the white -mass of broken stone with brilliance, and gave the entire scene an -unearthly quality. Below the towering rubble mountains, long black -shadows were reaching toward what Craig knew to be the living city.</p> - -<p>Cocteau took the lead and set a fast pace for a man of his age. He took -a highly devious path through the "mountain," or what began to seem to -Craig needlessly difficult and that outlined them against the bright -western sky. At one point Craig left the invisible path of the older -man to avoid an exhaustingly steep rise.</p> - -<p>"Follow me exactly," warned Cocteau in a sharp voice. "There is only -one relatively safe path through here."</p> - -<p>"They'll see us against the sky!"</p> - -<p>"It cannot be helped."</p> - -<p>But there was no indication that they were followed. They pushed -onward, scurrying over heaps of weathered plaster and brick. The old -man seemed to avoid with great care places where metal girders were -visible.</p> - -<p>The exertion together with walking directly into the setting sun made -Craig begin to feel the old nausea return. He resisted it for a time, -but it would not be repressed, particularly as he strove to maintain -his balance on difficult climbs. Once he stumbled on a splintered -building stone and fell. It was a long minute before he could regain -his feet and mutter a feeble, "Sorry."</p> - -<p>"We must push on, Mr. Craig," was Cocteau's only comment.</p> - -<p>"It's safe here for a <i>minute</i>, isn't it?" Craig panted, dizzy and -breathless.</p> - -<p>"There is no safe place here, Mr. Craig."</p> - -<p>They continued their winding way through the growing darkness. For -Craig it became a nightmare of stumbling over the endless piles of -sharp stones. His mind spun sickeningly and he retched as he half ran -along the path Cocteau set for them.</p> - -<p>"Please, mister," breathed the voice of Phil behind him. "It isn't so -far now."</p> - -<p>Doggedness carried Craig onward long after awareness left him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He became conscious suddenly, as though by an injection of stimulant. -He found himself surrounded by a number of figures, including Cocteau -and a white garbed man, evidently a doctor.</p> - -<p>"You are quite safe now, Mr. Craig," said Cocteau warmly. "Welcome to -the <i>City of We</i>."</p> - -<p>"Where are we?"</p> - -<p>"Deep in the old city, in a place where the radioactivity is -negligible," the man answered as the doctor took his pulse. "This is -Dr. Grant and these others are members of the <i>Liberty party</i>."</p> - -<p>"Liberty!"</p> - -<p>"You've heard of it?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah, you're pretty unpopular, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"Unpopular? Let us say that all of Terran <i>officialdom</i> is dedicated to -exterminating us."</p> - -<p>"The committee on something-or-other asked me about my attitudes toward -the Liberty party," said Craig, rising to a sitting position on the cot.</p> - -<p>"And at the time you had a lack of attitude, which most likely was -unacceptable to them," supplied Cocteau, smiling. "Well, you may be -interested to know that you are considered one of us by most of Terra -just now."</p> - -<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> - -<p>"That is correct," said another of the group. "It seems you were in a -bar in—ah—in a somewhat less than fully conscious state...."</p> - -<p>"But I didn't know anything about the Liberty party."</p> - -<p>"No, nor is it alleged that you actually mentioned the party in so many -words," continued the white-haired man, smiling. "But it seems that you -did make certain statements in the presence of certain persons that did -indicate a definite predilection...."</p> - -<p>"That's crazy," said Craig angrily.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Cocteau agreed.</p> - -<p>"Furthermore," the other man said, "you are charged with wilful -abandonment of duty and 'acts indicative of your desire to shun the -best utilization of your talents in behalf of the state of Terra.'"</p> - -<p>"In other words," explained Cocteau, "you applied for a job on a -private space freighter. Without permission to do so."</p> - -<p>Craig was silent. He lay back down on the cot and tried to absorb the -data he had just received.</p> - -<p>"So I'm accused of belonging to something I don't know anything about?"</p> - -<p>"Then I'll tell you briefly about us. You have a right to know the -magnitude of the crime with which you are charged." Cocteau took a seat -by Craig's cot. The others also found chairs.</p> - -<p>"But first a brief bit of history—a history that you have never -heard before. Not your fault. It is not allowed to penetrate Terra's -atmosphere."</p> - -<p>"I don't know much about Terra," Craig interjected. "I'm just finding -out how much I don't know."</p> - -<p>"God, I wish the rest of the Universe could find out with you!" said -one of the group.</p> - -<p>"Yes, the history of Terra is almost lost now. That is, the part of it -that followed the Great Wars of seventy-five years ago. You know of -those wars; you have just walked through one of the physical results of -them. No nation or alliance of nations can be said to have won them, -but the wars had a most profound effect upon Terra. More than anything -else, they made men reach to the stars, if only to escape the deadly -conflicts of Terra.</p> - -<p>"Ideological issues were involved, naturally, but the underlying cause -of the Great Wars was the struggle for power. The world was disunited. -Peoples were divided from peoples by an almost inconceivable number -of unimportant distinctions. These were ethnical, national, racial, -cultural—name any brand of prejudice and you'll find it existed then.</p> - -<p>"Incredibly enough, the destructiveness of the Great Wars accomplished -a kind of unity. Gone were the once proud aggressive nations. -Gone into oblivion. Gone, too, were the systems of economics and -sociology of which men were once so sure. There was a kind of -'plague-on-both-your-houses' attitude among the peoples of the world. -There was a large measure of anarchy following the Great Wars. Not -a violent, active anarchy of hate and terror, but of apathy and -weariness. Apathy at the outcome of false conflicts, and weariness of -the self-defeating strife of man against man.</p> - -<p>"At first men produced by the full extent of their labors barely -enough on which to survive. Only gradually did they regain their -ability to produce surpluses once more. Of course, surpluses mean -exchanges—trade. And trade requires order and system.</p> - -<p>"The first ten years following the Great Wars was a period of -gradualism in all things. Peoples united in small groups. There were -no political or racial divisions. The units were built upon functional -lines. They were natural and free. Above all, they were cooperative.</p> - -<p>"It was not communism. Men knew all too well the mental and physical -slavery of that brutally rigid system. It was not rugged individualism -either. Rugged individuals during this period either starved or were -driven out by the starving.</p> - -<p>"This natural, cooperative unity spread and became more complex. There -came into being natural associations of units. Not exclusive but -inclusive associations that linked all who would join and could produce -surpluses. Productivity increased thereby. Men were intelligent enough -to avoid many of the old abuses.</p> - -<p>"Ways were found to harness the productivity of each man and woman. -Genuine efforts were made to avoid misfits, to make those who produced -fit. It was realized, Mr. Craig, that the unhappy man will infect -others with his misery, and the trouble he will cause is much more -difficult to undo than to prevent in the first place.</p> - -<p>"There were, of course, mistakes, false starts. But the new-found -system of world-wide unity proved flexible. It was multiple-based. To -a very large degree, all men fitted into it logically and naturally. -It was the first truly 'grass-roots' economic and social system in the -history of man. And it was a great tribute to his ability to work out -his destiny, particularly since it came after a tragedy that was so -enormous and devastating.</p> - -<p>"The list of its successes is incredible. For in a decade the -age-old problem of poverty seemed to have disappeared. There were no -significant outbreaks of disorder and lawlessness—indeed, there was -comparatively little need for a written law. The principle of mutuality -and cooperation was too strongly conditioned into the people.</p> - -<p>"Scientifically, the first half of the new century, a scant twenty-five -years after the last bomb was dropped, was the greatest in man's -history. Man reached the stars. He began to know the molecule, the -atom, the electron. He pushed the frontier of his knowledge deep into -both microcosm and macrocosm.</p> - -<p>"But a fatal flaw had long before developed in the structure, wonderful -as it was. It was an age-old flaw. It was one that was disguised by the -very nature of the new system. When it was recognized, that flaw had -so weakened the system that its spread was all but inevitable. It is a -flaw that will always plague man to a certain extent, but one that must -keep us eternally vigilant.</p> - -<p>"It is this: the greatest human good comes not in how well you learn to -control man and keep him from harming himself. What determines it is -how completely you learn to free him.</p> - -<p>"Conversely, the law provides that no control system, however devised, -will succeed in bringing happiness and security to man to any greater -extent than it permits the fullest expression of his nature.</p> - -<p>"Man is <i>inherently</i> good. He will <i>always</i> choose a moral path when -free to do so. He strives for justice and truth both as an individual -and in mass.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Craig, democracy is man's greatest <i>a priori</i>. Yet based upon a -law of restraint, it cannot escape the hopeless contradiction that -leads to its own destruction. Man can democratically do the irrational -and the insane. He can democratically limit and coerce the absolute -highest nature of himself. Bad laws are forever passed to achieve good -ends. But each new law produces new criminals while the cause of the -new crime remains unsolved.</p> - -<p>"Ergo, the world you have just seen. Ergo, the Liberty party. Mr. -Craig, our world is ruled by a vast and horrible bureaucracy whose -terrible weapon is conformity. You would find few laws even today -written in books. Our assemblies pass few statutes. They determine -dogma instead. They 'resolve' and 'move.' They fix a new 'position,' -define a 'stand.' Our equivalent of judge and attorney is no student -of law. He is a kind of moralist. He is sensitive to the 'trend' and -appreciative of the 'proper.'</p> - -<p>"Terra fits uncomfortably in the Intergalactic System. Like many of the -undemocratic systems of the dark past, the Terran state must expand. -It is based upon a self-limiting philosophy unless it can spread fast -enough. You are charged with being 'unTerran,' Mr. Craig. A system that -forever seeks 'unTerrans' must inevitably exile or kill itself!"</p> - -<p>It had been a long speech. Craig had listened in awe, for it was a -completely new story to him.</p> - -<p>"And you propose to destroy this bureaucracy?" he said.</p> - -<p>"In so far as it is a philosophical entity, yes."</p> - -<p>"And you say I am one of you now?"</p> - -<p>"You are considered one of us. Your employer and his secretary are also -suspected."</p> - -<p>"But I'm entitled to a trial, or at least a hearing."</p> - -<p>"Not now, Mr. Craig. It would do you little good, anyway. The -'position' of the Assembly on subversion is that it 'rightly behooves -every loyal Terran so to conduct his behavior that a suspicion of -membership in the Liberty party is unthinkable.'"</p> - -<p>Craig found himself regretting every minute of his stay on Terra. -Old Brockman had been right—it was no place for a spaceman. Now it -was probably too late. No Terran space freighter would accept him and -Intergalactic could not. There was not even a way for him to recover -his service records.</p> - -<p>"Will you join us, Mr. Craig?" asked one of the men. "We can use your -skills, particularly your knowledge of space."</p> - -<p>"Look, how do I know you aren't a bunch of traitors? Maybe all this -you've told me is true. I've seen plenty of that bureaucracy and there -seems to be damned little freedom of action left on Terra. But how do I -know you can do any better when you get in power?"</p> - -<p>"Liberty will never be 'in power,' Mr. Craig," Cocteau said quietly. -"Liberty will attempt to reach the minds of the people with our message -of hope, of freedom in true democracy."</p> - -<p>Another of the group joined Cocteau. "We are now hunted as criminals. -We have only this small stronghold in the old city."</p> - -<p>"We shall attempt only to gain entry to the minds of the people," said -Cocteau. "Gain entry to tell them how they live, for most of them have -had no contact with any other kind of life."</p> - -<p>"It would mean killing a few people," Craig pointed out.</p> - -<p>"One of the basic principles of Liberty is the inherent goodness of -every man," Cocteau repeated. "We have never taken a life, even in -self-defense. We shall never take one. Nor will it ever be necessary -for a member of the Liberty party to hold public office, to own a -weapon, to coerce a man in any physical way."</p> - -<p>"But you will coerce them with ideas. Is that what you have in mind?" -Craig protested.</p> - -<p>"If a point of view, a promise, a goal is coercion, then the answer to -your question is yes. But ideas are not dangerous when a man is free to -argue and act against them."</p> - -<p>"Look here, Cocteau," Craig said earnestly, "all you say may be true. -I believe it is. But what can I do? I'm a spaceman, or at best an -apprentice import clerk. I don't know anything about this sort of work."</p> - -<p>"Come here a moment," invited a member of the group.</p> - -<p>Through the window indicated by the man, Craig saw an incredible sight. -The entire scene seemed to be on the inside of a vast underground -cavern. There were other buildings and some kind of systematic work -being done by many men and women. But the thing that caught Craig's eye -seemed to be cradled in a kind of hangar.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="600" height="318" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"A spaceship!" exclaimed Craig.</p> - -<p>"A very modest one, yet not so modest when you consider that it was -necessary to carry in every single piece and part by hand."</p> - -<p>"Good Lord!"</p> - -<p>"<i>You</i>, Mr. Craig, might captain that ship. Very few Terrans have -ever even flown in one. It will be necessary to establish contact with -possible assistance outside of Terra. You can make that possible."</p> - -<p>Craig was thoughtful. "I suppose, now that I've seen all this, you -can't let me leave here unless I join you."</p> - -<p>"No," denied Cocteau. "You may leave here any time you like."</p> - -<p>"I'd be sure to get caught, of course...."</p> - -<p>"Within limits, it might be possible to help you avoid capture." -Cocteau reached into his beggar's coat and withdrew a wallet. "Identity -card, food ration, clothing, work card, even a Government party card. -It's all here, Mr. Craig. You could have a slightly altered physical -appearance. Liberty accepts no unwilling members. You are given as -nearly a free choice in this matter as is possible to give you."</p> - -<p>"Suppose I talked?" asked Craig, nodding bluntly toward the port.</p> - -<p>Cocteau smiled. "It was necessary to prepare for that. You were given a -drug. It has not affected your thinking capacity in any way. But once -it wears off, you will be unable to remember what took place while -under its influence.</p> - -<p>"When agents of the Liberty party are sent out of here, they go having -had all experience with Liberty take place while under the drug. None -of us could remember for more than a few hours the exact location of -this headquarters. When it is necessary to leave for very long, we -carry a small amount of the drug with us. Many of our agents have -been caught and a few have resigned. But none has divulged enough -information to harm us seriously."</p> - -<p>Craig was postponing his decision to the last. "They must know you're -somewhere in here. If the radioactivity keeps them out, why shouldn't -they put a cordon around the entire old city?"</p> - -<p>"Periodically, they try. But there are many, many other ways of leaving -here than by the surface. Underground water conduits, ancient power and -sewer lines, a number of tunnels we have dug...."</p> - -<p>Craig was solemnly handed the wallet.</p> - -<p>"If you will submit to sufficient plastic surgery to make you resemble -this man, you may safely leave here no later than tomorrow night."</p> - -<p>A long silence ensued. It was interrupted by a noise from outside the -door of the room. It was the voice of Phil.</p> - -<p>"Has he decided to stay? Did you see him? He looks like my daddy -did.... Will he stay?"</p> - -<p>"You mustn't interrupt, son. They're in conference now. We'll let you -know."</p> - -<p>"Tell him yes!" said Craig in a loud voice. "Tell him hell, yes, I'm -staying!"</p> - -<p>The men gathered around him to congratulate him on the decision.</p> - -<p>Phil was allowed in the clinic to join them.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Cocteau, one more thing," Craig said.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>Craig was fumbling for his own wallet. He extracted a folded card.</p> - -<p>"Where would East 71, North 101, Number 4 be?"</p> - -<p>"It <i>would</i> have been somewhere here in Old City."</p> - -<p>"God! How did the old guy expect me to deliver this message? Old -man named Brockman. He sent me a message just before he died in -Gravitation. I was to visit his wife."</p> - -<p>"Brockman?" asked Cocteau. "You mean Ethel Brockman?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah. How'd you know?"</p> - -<p>"Ethel Brockman was one of the organizers of the Liberty party. She -served as its chairman until her death only a few years ago. Her -husband must have felt your 'sea legs' would lead you to us eventually. -And, of course, they did."</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sea Legs, by Frank Quattrocchi - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA LEGS *** - -***** This file should be named 51407-h.htm or 51407-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/4/0/51407/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Sea Legs - -Author: Frank Quattrocchi - -Release Date: March 9, 2016 [EBook #51407] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA LEGS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - SEA LEGS - - By FRANK QUATTROCCHI - - Illustrated by EMSH - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction November 1951. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - Rootless and footloose, a man in space can't help - but dream of coming home. But something nobody should - do is bet on the validity of a homesick dream! - - -Flight Officer Robert Craig surrendered the tube containing his service -record tapes and stood waiting while the bored process clerk examined -the seal. - -"Your clearance," said the clerk. - -Craig handed him a battered punch card and watched the man insert it in -the reproducer. He felt anxiety as the much-handled card refused for a -time to match the instrument's metal contact points. The line of men -behind Craig fidgeted. - -"You got to get this punched by Territorial," said the clerk. "Take it -back to your unit's clearance office." - -"Look again, Sergeant," Craig said, repressing his irritation. - -"It ain't notched." - -"The hell it isn't." - -The man examined the card with squinting care and nodded finally. "It's -so damn notched," he complained. "You ought to take care of that card; -can't get on without one." - -Craig hesitated before moving. - -"Next," said the clerk, "What you waiting for?" - -"Don't I take my 201 file?" - -"We send it on ahead. Go to Grav 1 desk." - -A murmur greeted the order. Craig experienced the thrill of knowing -the envy of the others. Grav 1--that meant Terra. He crossed the long, -dreary room, knowing the eyes of the other men were upon him. - -"Your service tapes," the next noncom said. "Where you going?" - -"Grav 1--Terra," fumbled Craig. "Los Angeles." - -"Los Angeles, eh? Where in Los Angeles?" - -"I--I--" Craig muttered, fumbling in his pockets. - -"No specific destination," supplied the man as he punched a key on a -small instrument, "Air-lock ahead and to your right. Strip and follow -the robot's orders. Any metal?" - -"Metal?" asked Craig. - -"You know, _metal_." - -"Well, my identification key." - -"Here," commanded the clerk, extending a plastic envelope. - -Craig moved in the direction indicated. He fought the irrational fear -that he had missed an important step in the complicated clerical -process. He cursed the grudging attitude of the headquarters satellite -personnel and felt the impotence of a spaceman who had long forgotten -the bureaucracy of a rear area base. The knowledge that much of it was -motivated by envy soothed him as he clumsily let himself into the lock. - -"Place your clothing in the receptacle provided and assume a stationary -position on the raised podium in the center of the lock." - -Craig obeyed the robot voice and began reluctantly to remove his flight -jacket. Its incredibly fine-grained leather would carry none of the -strange, foreign associations for the base station clerk who would -appropriate it. He would never know the beautiful, gentle beast that -supplied this skin. - -"You are retarding the progress of others. Please respond more quickly -to your orders." - -Craig quickly removed the last of his clothing. It was impossible -to hate a robot, but one could certainly hate those who set it into -operation. - -"You will find a red button at your feet. Lower your head and depress -that button." - -Stepping on the button with his bare foot produced an instant of -brilliant blue illumination. A small scratch on his arm stung briefly -and he was somewhat blinded by the flash even through his eyelids, but -that was all there was to the sterilizing process. - -"Your clothing and effects will be in the dressing room immediately -beyond the locked door." - -He found his clothing cleanly and neatly hung on plastic hangers just -inside the door to the dressing room. The few personal items he carried -in his pockets were still there. The Schtann flight jacket was actually -there, looking like new, its space-blue unfaded and as wonderfully -pliant as before. - -"Insert your right arm into the instrument on the central table," -commanded the same voice he had heard before. "Turn your arm until the -scratch is in contact with the metal plate. There will be a slight -pain, but it is necessary to treat the small injury you have been -disregarding." - -Craig obeyed and clenched his teeth against a sharp stinging. His -respect for the robot-controlled equipment of bases had risen. When -he withdrew his arm, the scratch was neatly coated with a layer of -flesh-colored plastic material. - -He dressed quickly and was on the verge of asking the robot for -instructions, when a man appeared in the open doorway. - -"I am Captain Wyandotte," said the man in a pleasant voice. - -"Well, what's next?" asked Craig somewhat more belligerently than he -had intended. - -The man smiled. "Your reaction is quite natural. You are somewhat -aggressive after Clerical, eh?" - -"I'm a little anxious to get home, I suppose," said Craig defensively. - -"By 'home' you mean Terra. But you've never been there, have you?" - -"No, but my father--" - -"Your parents left Terra during the Second Colonization of Cassiopeia -II, didn't they?" - -"Yes," Craig said. He was uncomfortable; Wyandotte seemed to know all -about him. - -"We might say you've been away quite a while, eh?" - -"I was entered as a spaceman when I was 16," Craig said. "I've never -been down for any period as yet." - -"You mean you haven't been in a gravity system?" - -"Oh, I've landed a few times, even walked around for a while...." - -"With the help of paraoxylnebutal," supplied the captain. - -"Well, sure." - -"Mr. Craig, I suppose you've guessed that the next step in our little -torture system here is psych." - -"So I gathered." - -The captain laughed reassuringly. "No, don't put up your guard again. -The worst is over. Short of Gravitational conditioning, there is -nothing to stop you from going to Terra." - -"Sorry, I guess I'm a little touchy. This is my first time...." - -"Quite natural. But it being your first time--in quite a number of -ways, I might add--it will be necessary for you to undergo some -conditioning." - -"Conditioning?" asked Craig. - -"Yes. You have spent eleven years in space. Your body is conditioned to -a normal state of free fall, or at best to a state of acceleration." - -"Yeah, I know. Once on Gerymeade...." - -"You were ill, couldn't keep your balance, felt dizzy. That is why -all spacemen carry PON, paraoxylnebutal, with them. It helps -suppress certain physiological reactions to an entirely new set of -conditions. Channels of the ear, for example. They play an important -part in our awareness of balance. They operate on a simple gravity -principle. Without gravity they act up for a time, then gradually lose -function. Returning to gravity is rather frightening at first." - -"I know all about this, Captain." - -"You've undoubtedly read popularizations in tapezines. But you have -experienced it briefly." - -"I expect to have some trouble at first." Craig was disturbed by the -wordy psychologist. What was the man actually saying? - -"Do you know what sailors of ancient times meant by 'sea legs?'" asked -Wyandotte. "Men on a rolling ocean acclimated themselves to a rolling -horizontal. They had trouble when they went ashore and the horizontal -didn't roll any more. - -"It meant more than that. There were excellent psychological reasons -for the old stereotype, the 'drunken sailor.' A port city was a -frightening thing to an old sailor--but let's begin our little job at -the beginning. I'll turn you over to psychometry for the usual tests -and pick you up tomorrow morning at, say, 0900." - - * * * * * - -During the days that followed, the psychologist seemed to Craig to -become progressively more didactic. He would deliver long speeches -about the "freedom of open space." He spoke repetitiously of the -"growing complexity of Terran society." And yet the man could not -be pinned down to any specific condition the spaceman would find -intolerable. - -Craig began to hate the delay that kept him from Terra. Through the -ports of the headquarters base satellite, he scanned the constellations -for the scores of worlds he had visited during his eleven years in -space. They were incredibly varied, even those that supported life. He -had weathered difficult landings on worlds with rip-tide gravities, had -felt the pull of the incredible star-tides imparted by twin and even -triple star systems. He had been on Einstein IV, the planet of eight -moons, and had felt the pulse of all eight of the satellites at once -that no PON could completely nullify. - -But even if he could accept the psychologist's authority for the -cumulative effect of a gravity system, he could not understand the -unspoken warning he felt underlying all that the man said. - -"Of course it has changed," Craig was protesting. "Anyway, I never -really knew very much about Terra. So what? I know it won't be as it -was in tapezines either." - -"Yet you are so completely sure you will want to live out your life -there, that you are willing to give up space service for it." - -"We've gone through this time and time again," Craig said wearily. "I -gave you my reasons for quitting space. We analyzed them. You agreed -that you could not decide that for me and that my decision is logical. -You tell me spacemen don't settle down on Terra. Yet you won't--or -can't--tell me why. I've got a damned good job there--" - -"You may find that 'damned good jobs' become boring." - -"So I'll transfer. I don't know what you're trying to get at, Captain, -but you're not talking me out of going back. If the service needs men -so badly, let them get somebody else. I've put in _my_ time." - -"Do you really think that's my reason?" - -"Sure. What else can it be?" - -"Mr. Craig," the psychologist said slowly, "you have my authorization -for you to return to Terra as a private citizen of that planet. You -will be given a very liberal supply of PON--which you will -definitely need. Good luck. You'll need that too." - - * * * * * - -On the eighth day, two attendants, who showed the effects of massive -doses of PON to protect themselves from the centrifugal force, -had to carry a man out of the tank. Many others asked to be removed, -begged to be allowed to withdraw their resignations. - -"The twelfth day is the worst," a grizzled spaceman told Craig. "That's -when the best of 'em want out." - -Craig clenched the iron rung of his bed and struggled to bring the old -man's face into focus. - -"How ... how do they know when you ought ... to come out?" he asked -between waves of nausea. - -"Blood pressure. They get you just before you go into shock." - -"How can they tell?" Craig fought down his growing panic. "I can't." - -"That strap around your belly. You mean you ain't noticed it?" - -"Haven't noticed much of anything." - -"Well, it's keyed to give them some kind of signal." - -The old man lapsed into silence. Craig wished him to continue. He -desperately wanted something to distract his mind from the ghastly -conditioning process. - -Slowly at first, the lines formed by seams in the metal ceiling began -to bend. Here it came again! - -"Old man!" shouted Craig. - -"Yeah, son. They've dropped it down a notch." - -"Dropped ... it ... down?" - -"Maybe that ain't scientific, but it's the way I always think of it." - -"Can't they ... drop it down continuously?" - -"They tried that a few times--once when I was aboard. You wouldn't like -it, kid. You wouldn't like it at all." - -"How ... many times ... do they drop it?" - -"Four times during the day, three at night. Twenty days." - -A nightmare of visual sensations ebbed into Craig's mind. He was -vaguely aware of the moans of other men in the vaultlike room. Wave -upon wave of nausea swept him as he watched the seam lines bend and -warp fantastically. He snapped his eyelids shut, only to begin feeling -the nightmarish bodily sensations once more. He felt the cot slowly -rise longitudinally, felt himself upside down, then the snap of turning -right side up once more--and he knew that neither he nor the cot had -moved so much as an inch. - -Craig heard the voices around him, muffled, as though talking through -wadding. - -"... got it bad." - -"We better take him out." - -"... pretty bad." - -"He'll go into shock." - -"... never make it the twelfth." - -"We better yank him." - -"I'm ... all right," Craig mumbled at the voices. He struggled with the -bonds of his cot. With terrible effort he forced his eyes open. Two -white-clad figures, ridiculously out of proportion, hovered wraithlike -over him. Four elongated eyes peered at him. - -_Attendants coming for to take me home...._ - -"Touch me and I'll kick your teeth in!" he yelled. "I'm going to Terra. -Wish you were going to Terra?" - -Then it was better. Oddly, he passed the twelfth day easily. By the -fourteenth day, Craig knew he could stand Grav 1. The whine of the -centrifuge's motors had diminished to a low hum. Either that or they -had begun to produce ultra-sonic waves. Craig was not sure. - -Most of the men had passed through the torments of gravitational -conditioning. The huge headquarters base centrifuge aboard the man-made -satellite had gradually caused their bodies to respond once more to a -single source of pull. They were now ready to become inhabitants of -planets again, instead of free-falling ships. - -On the eighteenth day, automatic machinery freed them from their -imprisoning cots. Clumsily and awkwardly at first, the men began to -walk, to hold their heads and arms in proper attitudes. They laughed -and joked about it and kidded those who were slow at adjusting. -Then they again began taking paraoxylnebutal in preparation for the -free-fall flight to Terra. - -Only one of the score of men in the centrifuge tank remained -voluntarily in his cot. - -"Space article violator," the old man informed Craig. "Psycho, I think. -Went amuck with some extraterritorials. Killed a dozen." - -"What will they do, exile him?" - -"Not to Chociante, if that's what you mean. They just jerked his space -card and gave him a one-way ticket to Terra." - -"For twelve murders?" asked Craig incredulously. - -"That's enough, son." The old man eyed Craig for an instant before -looking away. "Pick something to talk about. What do you figure on -doing when you get to Terra, for instance?" - -"I'm going into Import. My father was in it for twenty years." - -"Sure," said the old spaceman, watching a group of young crewmen -engaged in an animated conversation. - -"It's a good job. There's a future to it." - -"Yeah." - -Why did he have to explain anything at all to the old space tramp? - -"Once I get set up, I'll probably try to open my own business." - -"And spend your weekends on Luna." - -Craig half rose from his cot, jarred into anger. - -But the old spaceman turned, smiling wryly. "Don't get hot, kid. I -guess I spent too long in Zone V." He paused to examine his wrinkled -hands. They were indelibly marked with lever callouses. "You get to -thinking anyone who stays closer'n eighty light years from Terra is a -land-lubber." - -Craig relaxed, realizing he had acted childishly. "Used to think the -same. Then I took the exam and got this job." - -"Whereabouts?" - -"Los Angeles." - -The old man looked up at Craig. "You don't know much about Terra, do -you, son?" - -"Not much." - -"Yeah. Well, I hope you ain't disappointed." - -"My father was born there, but I never saw it. Never hit the Solar -System, matter of fact. Never saw much of anything close up. I stood it -a long time, old man, this hitting atmospheres all over the Universe." - -But the spaceman seemed to have lost interest. He was unpacking some -personal belongings from a kit. - -"What are you doing in Grav 1?" Craig asked. - -The old man's face clouded for an instant. "In the old days, they used -to say us old-timers acted like clocks. They used to say we just ran -down. Now they got some fancy psychology name for it." - -Craig regretted his question. He would have muttered some word of -apology, but the old man continued. - -"Maybe you've read some of the old sea stories, or more'n likely had -'em read to you. Sailors could go to sea until they just sort of dried -up. The sea tanned their skins and stiffened their bones, but it never -stiffened their hearts. When they got old, it just pulled them in. - -"But space is different. Space is raw and new. It tugs at your guts. It -sends the blood rushing through your veins. It's like loving. You don't -become a part of space the way you do the old sea, though. It leaves -you strictly alone. Except that it sucks you dry, takes all the soup -out of you, leaves you brittle and old--old as a dehydrated piece of -split leather. - -"Then one day it shoots a spurt of blood around in one of your old -veins. Something gives. Space is through with you then. And if you can -stand this whirligig conditioning, you're through with space." - - * * * * * - -"_You can't figure it. Some of 'em urp all over and turn six shades of -green._" - -"_You got to watch the ones that don't._" - -"_Yeah, you got to watch the ones that don't. Especially the old ones._" - -"_He's old. You think it was his heart?_" - -"_Who knows?_" - -"_They'll dump him, won't they?_" - -"_After a tracer is sent through. But it won't do any good._" - -"_He probably outlived everybody that ever knew him._" - -"_Wouldn't be surprised. Here, grab his leg._" - - * * * * * - -Robert Craig folded the flight jacket tightly and stuffed it into the -cylindrical carton. A sleeve unwound just as he did so, making it -difficult to fit into the place he had made for it. Exasperated, he -refolded it and jammed it in place. Smaller rolls of underclothing were -then fitted in. When he was satisfied with the layer, he tossed in a -small handful of crystals and began to fill the next layer. After the -carton was completely filled, he ignited the sealing strip and watched -as the plastic melted into a single, seamless whole. It was ready for -irradiation. Probably in another ten years his son-to-be would put it -on and play spaceman. But Craig swore he'd make sure that the kid knew -what a stinking life it was. - -At 1300 hours, the ferry bumped heavily alongside the starboard lock. -It was the signal for relief in the passengers' quarters; many were -beginning to feel a reaction to the short free-fall flight from the -headquarters satellite. - -The audio called out: "Flight Officer Robert Craig. Flight Officer -Robert Craig. Report to Orderly 12. Report to Orderly 12 through the -aft door." - -With pangs of anxiety he could not completely suppress, Craig obeyed. - -Orderly 12 handed him a message container. - -"Who's it from? Somebody on Terra?" - -"From a private spaceman named Morgan Brockman." - -"_Brockman?_" - -"He was with you in the grav tank." - -"The old man!" - -The message container produced a battered punch card. Craig -straightened it and was about to reach into his pocket for a hand -transcriber. But then he noticed the card bore only a few irregular -punches and was covered with rough hand printing. - - Son, when the flunkies get around to giving you this, they'll have - shot me out the tube. How do I know? Same way you know when your - turbos are going to throw a blade. It's good this way. - - There's something you can do for me if you want to. Way back, some - fifty years ago, there was a woman. She was my wife. It's a long - story I won't bother you with. Anyway, I left her. Wanted to take - her along with me, but she wouldn't go. - - Earth was a lot different then than it is now. They don't have to - tell me; I know. I saw it coming and so did Ethel. We talked about - it and I knew I had to go. She wouldn't or couldn't go. Wanted me - to stay, but I couldn't. - - I tried to send her some units once in a while. Don't know if she - ever got them. Sometimes I forgot to send them at all. You know, - you're way out across the Galaxy, while she's home. - - Go see her if you can, son. Will you? Make sure she gets the unit - transfer I made out. It isn't much out of seventy years of living, - but she may need it. And maybe you can tell her a little bit about - what it means to be out there. Tell her it's open and free and when - you got hold of those levers and you're trying for an orbit on - something big and new and green.... Hell, you remember. You know - how to tell her. - - Her name is Ethel Brockman. I know she'll still use my name. Her - address is or was East 71, North 101, Number 4. You can trace her - easy if she moved. Women don't generally shove off and not leave a - forwarding address. Not Ethel, at least. - -Craig put the battered card in his pocket and walked back through the -door to the passenger room. How did you explain to an old woman why her -husband deserted her fifty years before? Some kind of story about one's -duty to the Universe? No, the old man had not been in Intergalactic. He -had been a tramp spaceman. Well, why _had_ he left? - -Fifty years in space. _Fifty_ years! Zone V had been beyond anybody's -imagination that long ago. He must have been in on the first Cetusian -flights and shot the early landings in Cetus II. God only knew how many -times he had battled Zone 111b pirates.... - -Damn the old man! How did one explain? - - * * * * * - -Craig descended the ramp from the huge jet and concentrated on his -impressions. One day he would recall this moment, his first on the -planet Terra. He tried to recall his first thrill at seeing Los -Angeles, 1500 square miles of it, from the ship as it entered the -atmosphere. - -He was about to step off the last step when a man appeared hurriedly. A -rather plump man, he displayed a toothy smile on his puffy red face. - -"A moment, sir. Just a little greeting from the Terra. You understand, -of course. Purely routine." - -Craig remained on the final step of the ramp, puzzled. The man turned -to a companion at his right. - -"We can see that this gentleman has come from a long, long way off, -can't we?" - -The other man did not look up. He was peering into what seemed to Craig -to be a kind of camera. - -"We can allow the gentlemen to continue now, can't we? It wasn't that -we believed for a minute, you understand ... purely routine." - -Both men were gone in an instant, leaving Craig completely bewildered. - -"You goin' to move on, buddy, or you want to go back?" - -Craig turned to face a line of his fellow passengers up the ramp behind -him. - -"Who was that?" Craig asked. - -"Customs. Bet you never got such a smooth screening before, eh?" - -"You mean he _screened_ me? What for?" - -"Hard to say," the other passenger said. "You'll get used to this. They -get it over with quick." - -Craig made his way toward the spaceport administration building. His -first physical contact with Terra had passed unnoticed. - -"Sir! Sir!" cried a voice behind him. - -He wheeled to see a man walking briskly toward him. - -"You dropped this, sir. Quite by accident, of course." - -Craig examined the small object the man had given him before rushing -off toward an exit. - -It was an empty PON tube he had just discarded. He couldn't -understand why the man had bothered until he realized that the -plastaloid floor of the lobby displayed not the faintest scrap of paper -nor trace of dirt. - - * * * * * - -The Import personnel man was toying with a small chip of gleaming -metal. He did not look directly at Craig for more than an instant at a -time, and commented on Craig's description of his trip through the city -only very briefly between questions. - -"It's a good deal bigger than I imagined," Craig was saying. "Haven't -seen much of it, of course. Thought I'd check in here with you first." - -"Yes, naturally." - -"Thought you could give me some idea of conditions...." - -"Conditions?" - -"For instance, what part of the city I should live in. That is, what -part is closest to where I'll work." - -"I see," said the man noncommittally. It seemed to Craig that he was -about to add something. He did not, however, but instead rose from his -chair and walked to the large window overlooking an enormous section of -the city far below. He stared out the window for a time, leaving Craig -seated uncomfortably in the silent room. There was a distracted quality -about him, Craig thought. - -"You are the first man we have had from the Intergalactic Service," the -personnel man said finally. - -"That so?" - -"Yes." He turned to face Craig briefly before continuing. "You must -find it very strange here." - -"Well, I've never seen a city so big." - -"Yes, so big. And also...." He seemed to consider many words before -completing the sentence. "And also different." - -"I haven't been here very long," said Craig. "Matter of fact, I haven't -been anywhere very long. This is my first real experience with life on -a planet. As an adult, anyway." - -The personnel man seated himself once more and pressed a button on a -small instrument. A secretary entered the office from a door to Craig's -left. - -"Miss Wendel, this is Mr. Craig. Mr. Craig, my secretary. Mr. Craig -will enter Minerals and Metals, Zone V." - -They exchanged formal greetings. She was a moderately pretty girl of -medium height and, to Craig, a pleasantly rounded figure. He would have -attempted to catch her eye had she not immediately occupied herself -with unfolding the legs of a small instrument she was carrying. - -"This is Mr. Craig's first landing on Terra, Miss Wendel," the -personnel man continued. "Actually, we shall have to consider him in -much the same way we would an extraterrestrial." - -The girl glanced at Craig, casting him a cool, impersonal smile. - -"He was formerly a flight officer in the Intergalactic Space Service." -The statement was delivered in an almost exaggeratedly casual tone. - -The girl glanced at him once more, this time with a definite quizzical -look in her brown eyes. - -"Three complete tours of duty, I believe." - -"Four," corrected Craig. "Four tours of three years each, minus a -year's terminal leave." - -"I take it you have no identification card?" the man asked. - -"The one I held in the service. It's pretty comprehensive." - -The other turned to the secretary. "You'll see that he is assisted in -filing his application, won't you? A provisional Code II. That will -enable you to enter all Import offices freely, Mr. Craig." - -"Will he need a food and--clothing ration also?" asked the girl, -without looking at Craig. - -"Yes." The man laughed. "You'll excuse us, Mr. Craig. We realize that -you couldn't be expected to be familiar with Terra's fashions. In your -present outfit you would certainly be typed as a ... well, you'd be -made uncomfortable." - -Craig reddened in spite of himself. He had bought the suit on Ghandii. - -"A hick," he supplied. - -"I wouldn't go that far, but some people might." - - * * * * * - -Craig noted the pleasant way the girl filled her trim, rather severe -business suit. He amused himself by calculating stress patterns in its -plain woven material as she assembled the forms for him. - -"Here, Mr. Craig. I believe these are complete." - -"They look pretty complicated." - -"Not at all. The questions are quite explicit." - -Craig looked them over quickly. - -"I guess so. Say, Miss Wendel, I was wondering--I don't know the city -at all. Maybe you could go with me to have dinner. It must be almost -dinnertime now. You could sort of check me out on some...." - -"I'm afraid that would be quite impossible. You couldn't gain -admittance to any office you need to visit tonight. Therefore, it is -impossible for me to be of any assistance to you." - -"Oh, come now, Miss Wendel. There are women aboard spaceships. I'm not -a starved wolf." - -"Certainly you are not, Mr. Craig. But it is not possible for me...." - -"You said that already, but you can have dinner with me. Just company." - -"I'm afraid I don't understand." - - * * * * * - -The Galactic hotel strove to preserve an archaic tone of hospitality. -It advertised "a night's lodgings" and it possessed a bellboy. The -bellboy actually carried Craig's plasticarton and large file of punch -cards and forms to his room. Tired from the long, confusing day, Craig -was not impressed. He vaguely wondered if the little drama of the -hotel carried so far as a small fee to be paid the bellboy, and he -hoped he would have the right size of Terran units in his wallet. - -Outside the door to the room, the bellboy stopped and turned to Craig. - -"For five I'll tell you where it is," he said in a subdued tone. - -"Tell me where what is?" - -"You know, the mike." - -"Mike?" - -"All right, mister, three units, then. I wasn't trying to hold you up." - -"You mean a microphone?" asked Craig, mechanically fishing for his -wallet. - -"Sure, they don't put in screens here. Wanted to, but the boss -convinced 'em there aren't any Freedomites ever stay here." - -"Where is the microphone?" Craig asked as he found a ten unit note. -He was too puzzled to wonder what he was expected to do with the -information. - -"It's in the bed illuminator. You can short it out with a razor blade. -Or I'll do it for another two." - -"Never mind," Craig said wearily. He waited while the bellboy inserted -a key into the door and opened it for him. - -"I can get you a sensatia-tape," whispered the boy when they had -entered. He nudged Craig wickedly. "You know what they're like?" - -"Yeah," Craig said disgustedly. Traffic in the illicit mental-image -tapes was known as far into space as lonely men had penetrated. -Intergalactic considered them as great a menace to mental and moral -stability as the hectopiates. Craig wearily got the man out of the -room, took a PON pill, and eased himself into the bed. - -It had been a weird day and he had not liked it. There was no telling -how long it would take him to shake his--sea legs, the psychologist -had called it. One thing was sure: Terra aggressively went after its -strangers. - - * * * * * - -Ushered into the room by a sullen and silent secretary, Craig found -himself facing a semi-circular table at which were seated five -uniformed men. The center man, obviously their superior, rose to greet -him. He wore the familiar smile Craig had come to know so well and -hate so much. The man was somewhat over forty years old, short, stout, -entirely unpleasant and puffy. - -"Mr. Craig, I believe," he greeted Craig. Since it seemed to be more -of a statement than a question, Craig did not answer. He took up a -position of more or less military attention at the center of the curved -table. - -"You _are_ Robert Craig," insisted the man. - -"Yes, I'm Robert Craig," he answered, somewhat surprised. - -The stout man seated himself with a sigh and began to sort through some -papers on the table before him. The other four men continued to stare -at Craig silently, until he began to feel uncomfortable and hostile. He -stiffened his position of attention defiantly. - -"You may relax, Mr. Craig," said the first man without looking up. "You -aren't nervous, are you?" - -"No," Craig said, trying to smile. "This is the first time I've been -here and...." He let the sentence trail off, hoping for a sympathetic -response. But he did not get it. - -"Flight Officer, eh?" said the man. Then, looking up, he added, -"Somewhat unusual to find a vigorous young man like yourself abandoning -the space service for a Terran job, isn't it?" - -"I don't know. Is it?" - -"Leaving something behind out there, Mr. Craig?" - -"No, nothing," Craig snapped. - -The other man glared at him a full minute. Craig met the stare and -realized the considerable power behind the weak face. - -"You don't like this sort of affair, do you, Mr. Craig?" - -Craig was forced to look away. "I'm afraid I don't see the necessity," -he answered in a controlled voice. "I served the Intergalactic Service -well. My records prove that." - -"Granted," said his questioner bluntly. "You are a Terran, are you not, -Mr. Craig?" - -"I should think that would be obvious," Craig said, matching the blunt -tone. - -The man rapped the table. "That's enough of your impertinence! You may -very well have served the Intergalactic Service, but you are on Terra -now. Terra, greatest, first of all civilized systems. Intergalactic may -very well have to piddle with incompetent savages and wild colonists, -but we of Terra assert our supremacy. Remember those words. You may not -always find Terra so submissive to Intergalactic as Intergalactic would -desire." - -"Where are your loyalties, Mr. Craig?" demanded one of the other men -suddenly. - -"I am a Terran...." - -"But your first loyalty is to Intergalactic. Is that right?" - -"Is there a distinction?" Craig shot back, thoroughly angry. - -"Do you wish to be held in contempt of this committee?" asked the first -man, leaning forward half out of his chair. - -"Of course not." - -"Then you will confine your responses to simple yes and no answers, if -you please, _Mr._ Craig." - -Craig glared at the men in impotent rage. His head was beginning to -ache. He had been many hours without paraoxylnebutal. - -"Now, Mr. Craig," the first man began in an overly mild tone, "we shall -begin again. Please try to restrain your show of emotion. You are -here in petition of an identity card of provisional Code II type. You -maintain that you have never been on Terra before. Indeed, you state -that you have never had a political affiliation." - -"Yes." - -"What are your reactions to the latest acts of the Liberty party?" a -third man abruptly asked. - -"I have none," Craig answered, after an instant of confusion. - -"You do not condemn the Liberty party?" - -"I ... I...." - -"Then you must favor it." - -"I don't know anything about any...." - -"Now, then, Mr. Craig," interrupted the head of the group. "The Import -service report shows that you passed your tests aboard your ship. You -were enabled to accomplish this through night study." - -"Yes." - -"Yet you maintain in your application that you had considered the space -service a career." - -"I changed my mind." - -"Oh. You changed your mind. I see...." - - * * * * * - -"What do you do if they turn you down on your food ration?" Craig asked -the man by his side on the bench. He had intended it as a vaguely -humorous question. - -"You don't eat." - -"You mean they would actually let you starve?" - -"If you could not eat, you would starve," the man said matter-of-factly. - -"What's all this for, anyway? I mean the medical part." - -"You are rationed fairly in accordance with your particular metabolism." - -"You're kidding." - -"One does not jest of such matters," said the man, getting up to take a -seat on another bench. - - * * * * * - -"_But I'd like to keep it as a souvenir._" - -"_It is not permitted._" - -"_Look, it isn't issue. I bought the hide, had it made. I can pull off -the marks of insignia and it's just another jacket...._" - -"_That is not the point, Mr. Craig. Your clothing ration is defined by -law. There are no exceptions._" - - * * * * * - -"_These are your permanent quarters. You will occupy them immediately. -Then, if you believe the location is wasteful of your time, you must -petition the appropriate committee. This department cannot accept such -a petition._" - - * * * * * - -"_Your petition to be permitted to purchase a private means of -conveyance is hereby denied._" - - * * * * * - -The big man leaned far back in the battered desk chair. It creaked -at worn joints, but touched the wall without sliding from under its -enormous load. The man was silent through Craig's long, confused -speech. By turns he examined his fingernails, picked at yellowed teeth, -and stared above his head at the discolored ceiling. - -"... but you can get all this from ISS, maybe even from Import, if -they'll release my file," Craig argued. - -"Uh-huh," the big man said between closed lips. - -"I just made a mistake, that's all. You don't hear much about Terra -out there. It was different in my father's day. It must have been -different." - -"Yeah." - -"I haven't any character references on Terra, but I can post a -good-sized bond if they'll release my ISS units." - -The space-freight agent glanced up at Craig at the remark. - -"Anyway, I can get my units anywhere ISS has a base," Craig -continued. "I can handle anything up to 15 Gs acceleration without a -new license. I can go heavier if I get a check ride." - -The fat man leaned forward in the protesting chair. "You got -everything, but you can't go. I can't hire you." - -"Why not?" - -"Look, kid--Craig, is it?--how long you been in?" - -"Four days. I'm still working on my work clearances." - -"Four days. You tried Intergalactic to see if they'd take you back?" - -"Yes. Their hands are tied by my Terran contract." - -"And ours aren't, eh?" The man rose from the desk and walked to a water -tap. He popped a pill into his gaping mouth and drank from a tin cup. -Then he returned to the inadequate chair. "So you're a spaceman. Flight -officer--_ex_-flight officer. You know how to navigate through four -star zones and the asteroid belt thrown in. You got a license for 15 -Gs, could get five more. You got enough brains to pass Import's senior -router's exam. - -"Still, you ain't got enough sense to come in out of the rain!" - -Craig sat upright in his chair. - -"We get guys like you two, three a day. You're hot. You're big. You're -rarin' to go. But you ain't goin' nowhere!" - -Craig glared at the big man. - -"I don't know how you got here, Craig. It ain't none of my business. -Maybe you did quit honorable. Quit to follow your daddy's footsteps. Or -maybe you went and burned up a colony somewhere!" - -"That would be in my records, wouldn't it?" Craig challenged. - -"It still don't make any difference. You're stuck here. Nobody leaves -Terra without a permit. Nobody. You couldn't get a permit with a -crowbar and a blaster. You got a problem, son. You asked for it. Maybe -they told you beforehand, maybe they didn't. You got a problem of -adjustment. Terra's moved a long, long way since your daddy left it. -We're doing things here. We're going places. Big things and big places. - -"You got to fit into that, kid. Fit in quick. Move with it. You don't -like the red tape, the committees? I don't like 'em either. But I been -here a while. I can cut red tape. Red tape is for guys like you, guys -that don't know Terra, don't know where we're going. - -"Stick around, kid. You still got sea legs. You're still hopped up on -PON. You're going to like it here on Terra. You're going to like it -great. You can make a quick dollar on Terra. You can spend a quick -dollar here too. Smarten up or you'll finish scrubbing radioactive dust -off girders!" - - * * * * * - -The girl approached his table, her hard eyes scanning him. Wordlessly -she slid into the booth opposite him and made a sign for the bartender. - -"Have a drink?" Craig suggested, smiling. - -"Yeah." - -"Work here?" - -"What you mean by that?" - -"I mean if you get a percentage on the drinks, I can...." - -"I don't get no percentage." - -The bartender brought them a version of N'cadian taz. The girl slouched -in the booth and sullenly tapped the glass. The lights in the bar had -dimmed to simulate some kind of planetary night. The walls came alive -with projected images of Terran constellations. On their table, a globe -lamp began to glow. Tiny bright lights swung orbits around a miniature -sun inside the lamp. - -As a miniature Pluto swung on its slow arc, an image of it was -projected on the girl's dusky face. She seemed to be staring at -nothing. - -"Why d'you call me over here? You a purist, or don't you like the brand -of sensatia-tapes they're peddlin' these days?" - -"I don't understand," Craig said. - -She smiled crookedly at him. Not a bad face, Craig decided, but hard, -hard as the ceramiplate of a ship. She could not be very old. It was -the kind of wild look in her eyes that gave her a false appearance of -age. - -"Maybe you're writing a book--you got me over here for something." - -"I just got in," Craig answered. - -"What am I supposed to do for this drink?" - -"Nothing. Nothing at all. I suppose. I thought ... just skip it. I'm -lonesome, that's all." - -"Lonely, huh?" said the girl. "Lonely and just in, huh? Just in from -space." She turned away from him to signal the bartender. "What you -need is drinks." - -There were more drinks. Many more drinks. The girl kept them coming, -kept talking to him about--what was it? Craig looked at the girl and -then at the globe lamp. He watched as the tiny bright orbs of light -projected their images on the girl opposite him. He was aware of the -gradual dimming of the lights, the suppression of sound in the bar. He -watched the tiny lights of other globes appear around shadows, watched -as the lights traced fiery trails across the dusky skin of the girl -opposite him, watched as they crossed the warm, rounded flesh.... - - * * * * * - -"_I tell ya we didn't give him nothing but a coupla tazes._" - -"_The pump will determine that. You might as well tell the truth._" - -"_I am tellin' the truth. He drank, let's see ... two, three._" - -"_Four, five, six. You let her pump him full._" - -"_Hey, look, this guy's a spaceman, or was._" - -"_I didn't know that. Honest I didn't. He never told us._" - -"_All right, you didn't know. What you put in those tazes--ether?_" - -"_We denature the polyester just like the law says._" - -"_And you get it straight from M'cadii, eh?_" - -"_We put in some syn. So what? That ain't against the law._" - -"_He's probably got grav trouble, Chief._" - -"_Who was the girl?_" - -"_Girl? What girl?_" - -"_You know what girl!_" - -"_Just a girl, like a million of 'em these days._" - -"_Professional?_" - -"_There ain't any any more. You know, sensatia-tapes._" - -"_Know her name?_" - -"_I don't ask no names. How you going to know names? She's a girl. Just -like ten million of 'em these days._" - -"_What you think a guy like this is doing here, Chief?_" - -"_Why not?_" - -"_Well, look at his clothes. He's got units, too. Can't figure that -out. She must've been after something else._" - -"_How about his clothing and food tickets?_" - -"_Uh ... that's it. She got his tickets._" - -"_Come on, give me a hand. Lug him into the hold._" - - * * * * * - -The hard face of the Civil Control chief peered down at him. It was -a thick, red face that displayed no trace of feeling except perhaps -toughness. It was long yet full, and it contained the proper features; -but it added nothing of expression to the harsh, rasping voice. - -"First time in, eh? Or else Central's too damned lazy to check the -file. Okay, I ain't going to cite you. Waste of time. But listen to me. -You got problems, we got problems. You solve yours and don't come back -here." - -Craig was aware of officers glowering at his back as he fumbled with -the door button. The door opened onto a city street. It was entirely -foreign to Craig. It was not a clean, straight thoroughfare at the -bottom of a canyon of towering white buildings and contrived but bright -parks. It was an old street, a dirty street; an incredible welter of -color and line, of big and little shops, of dirty human shapes in -drab gray. A flood of tone and noise hit Craig as he emerged from the -station and descended the long, broad steps. - -Craig's head was in a whirl despite the strong dose of paraoxylnebutal -he had taken in the station clinic. He felt closed in and befogged. He -could remember almost nothing of the night in Civil Control. Even the -clinic was fading from his memory. He was aware that he stank, that he -was dirty, that his clothing clung to his body. He was miserable. - -He must call Import. He was due to begin work this morning, his period -of personal adjustment complete. Instead, Craig turned and began to -walk. He could not carry on a coherent conversation in his present -state. He could never find his way unassisted back to his apartment; -he was not even sure he remembered the address. But the thought of -returning to his quarters, to Import sickened him. - -What _was_ his address? East 71, North.... No, that would be old lady -Brockman. The association irritated him. He had completely forgotten -the unwanted assignment, had forgotten to inquire where the address -could be found. - -Craig became aware of the heavy flow of vehicular traffic that roared a -scant eight feet away. Large surface carriers whistled in the nearest -lane of the complex four-lane pattern. Then there were the private -surface craft; they were of many sizes and shapes. He guessed that -they were turbine-powered, but he could not identify the odor of their -exhausts. - -There was an odd, unreal quality about the busy thoroughfare. Even -myriad sounds from it were sounds he had never heard before and could -not break down into their component parts. - -Craig became aware of other humans, many of them, on the sidewalk. -Again they were of a class that he could not identify. They had none -of the brisk, purposeful stride of those he had seen near Import. -They lacked also the graceful, colorful dress. Their faces, so far -as he could separate them from the blurring film over his eyes, were -different. - -They seemed somehow _looser_ faces, though Craig did not know exactly -what he meant by the term. They were not tight, pinched, set, as were -the faces he had seen before on Terra. There were bulbous noses, large -ears, squint eyes, disheveled hair, the men's and women's faces -strangely similar. Some were young, some old, but few were hard or -fixed. They seemed more plastic, more full of expression than those he -had come to know elsewhere in the city. He felt an inexplicable craving -to know someone of this strange street. - -"You looking for something, mister?" asked a voice near him. - -Craig turned to find a middle-aged man eying him from the doorway of an -empty building. - -"I got it," the man added. - -"Got what?" Craig asked. - -"Anything a guy just outa the can would want." - -"What would a 'guy just outa the can' want that you have?" Craig -examined the weathered, sharp face. It was an unpleasant one, but it -belonged to this street; it would do to tell him what he wanted to know -of the place. - -"Follow me." The man quickly inserted a magnikey into the door of the -vacant store building. - -"There's a station just up the street," Craig warned. - -"Sure. So what?" - -The empty room was dusty and dark and received little light through -the grimy display windows that faced on the street. What kind of store -it had been, Craig could not guess. The man led him through a kind of -storage room which was piled high with moldy paper cartons and back to -a rear door. With quick, dextrous movements, the man swung an ancient -bar assembly and pushed open the rear door. It led to a litter-strewn -yard enclosed by rough, eroded shacks and a wooden garage. - -They entered the garage through a creaking hinged door. It was a dank, -almost completely dark room. Craig stumbled over something on the floor -and fell against a packing box of some kind. - -"Just stand still," said the man. He was shuffling invisibly about in -the darkness. Craig could hear him opening a kind of cabinet or drawer -while saying in a steady monotone, "You got the right man, mister. My -stuff is pure. You can test it. But you'd rather _drink_ it, right?" - -For the tenth time, Craig asked himself why he had accepted the furtive -invitation. The thought of this man's kind of intoxicant--however -'pure'--nauseated him. Nevertheless, he felt himself compelled by a -kind of insatiable curiosity to follow out the part he had accepted. -Perhaps through this man, through this somehow fascinating street, he -could.... - -"You got ten; I know that. Maybe you got more, huh?" the man -interrupted his confused train of thought. - -"What makes you think I got ten?" Craig asked. He did not know himself -how many units his wallet contained--certainly not after the previous -night. - -"Don't get sore. I'm honest. But I know you got ten. Otherwise you -wouldn't have got out of the station." - -The lack of clearly defined objects by which to orient himself in the -darkness of the garage made his head begin to swim once more. He wanted -to leave. - -"Don't get scared, buddy. They don't ever come in here." - -Craig fumbled for support in the darkness. He was afraid he would be -sick. Fulfillment for the half-formed plan that was beginning to take -shape in his mind would not come with the bootlegger. It would come -into being somehow in the tawdry street he had just left, only he did -not know how. - -"They don't really go after polyester. They don't want to stop the -stuff. It makes their job easier. You don't have to worry, buddy. Come -on, how much you want? You might have trouble finding more for a while." - -Craig said nothing. He fumbled for a grip on a packing box. - -"You're from Out, aren't you, buddy? You ain't used to us here yet. -Most of my customers are from Out. What jam'd you get into?" - -"I got ten units, I think," Craig evaded. - -"It ain't none of my business what you done. Nobody around here is -going to ask you any questions. Long as you got units, you get poly -like the big shots that come over here all the way from Uptown." - -"Yeah," said Craig. "Gimme what I get for ten units and let's beat it -out of here." - -"Myself, I never been Out. Not even Luna. Never wanted to. I stay here -and have my little business--you can call it a business. You'll see, -buddy, there are millions of guys like me. The controllers don't stop -us. We're respectable. A damned sight more respectable than those...." - -"All right," snapped Craig. "Let's get out of here." - -"You got it bad, huh? This poly will fix that up. It's pure. You just -come back to old Nave and get poly." - -"How ... how you get out of here?" asked Craig, nauseated. - -"Get lost pretty easy in the dark, huh?" The man was beginning to mock -him. - -Craig lashed out suddenly at the unseen face in the darkness. He caught -the thin throat in his left hand. His right left the packing box and -cocked to deliver a blow. But he began to fall and had to let go. - -"Okay, buddy, okay," the other man said soothingly as Craig was forced -to catch himself. "I _like_ ex-spacemen. I know lots of you. I sell -you poly. You don't want to get tough with me." - -He shoved a block of ten small cubes into Craig's hand and, while Craig -fished for his wallet, he produced a tiny, narrow-beamed flash. The -transaction was quickly over. The cube was small enough to be forced -without much difficulty into Craig's jacket pocket. - -The man led him back across the littered yard, through the empty store -building, and out the front door. When Craig emerged onto the street -once more, a uniformed figure was standing nearby. - -"He'll need two," whispered the man from behind him. - -Craig reached into his pocket and mechanically fumbled two of the small -cubes of waxlike substance from the loose package. He placed them on -the outstretched hand of the Civil Control officer. The officer did not -look in his direction at any time, but accepted the offer and walked -slowly on toward the station. - -Craig continued aimlessly down the long street. His head cleared as -he walked and once more began to form a kind of vague plan. There was -anonymity to a street such as this. There was also a kind of freedom. -Everywhere in the universe, there were such streets. Neutralized -streets, where a kind of compromise was reached between law and -lawlessness. They were permitted because it was always necessary to -provide such a place for those who were not permitted elsewhere. Those -who would not fit, could not be "rehabilitated," could neither be -jailed nor permitted complete freedom. - -Controllers of one kind or another patrolled such streets, keeping them -in a kind of check--or, more accurately, in a kind of containment. But -no amount of control would ever completely stamp out the likes of Nave, -the bootlegger. - -Perhaps here, on this street, Craig could be "lost." Here he might find -security for a time in anonymity, security and time to find a way ... -to what? He did not know. - -"Mister! Mister!" cried a thin, high voice from somewhere to his left. -"Here, quick!" - -It was a young boy of perhaps nine or ten. Craig caught sight of him as -he motioned urgently. He wore a shabby, torn version of what appeared -to be a space service uniform. - -"I'm not buying anything, son," Craig said, pausing briefly. - -"Come here, quick!" insisted the boy, his eyes large in a dirty face. -"You already bought too much." - -The boy was motioning him to follow. He had stepped between two -buildings. Craig approached him with suspicion. - -"What did you say?" - -"Slip in here quick! You bought from Nave the peddler. You bought poly, -didn't ya?" - -"How did you...." Craig began. - -"Tell you later. Slip through here quick or they'll send you to -_Hardy_!" - -The genuine fear of the youngster conveyed itself to Craig. With effort -he forced his body through the space between the old buildings. At -first he did not intend to follow the boy, but only to stop him for an -explanation. The boy, however, continued down the tight corridor formed -by the buildings. - -"There's a window soon," he said from ahead of Craig. "Hurry. You lost -time with that peddler." - -Lost time? Cursing himself for becoming involved again in something he -did not understand, Craig nevertheless followed as best he could. It -was a tight squeeze and he found himself becoming breathless. - -"Dive down!" shouted the boy, looking back with terror in his eyes. - -Instinctively Craig did so. The rough walls tore at his suit. - -"Stop!" shouted a voice from behind Craig. "Stop or we fire!" - -Craig suddenly felt the sill of a window which opened into the -building to his left. He quickly pulled himself into it. There was a -sickening whine and a part of the window disintegrated in a cloud of -splinters and plaster. - -"Through here," said the boy from the semi-darkness. "They'll blast -their way inside in a minute!" - -Craig found himself in another empty building. He followed the boy -through a doorway and felt his way as he half ran along the dark hall. - -"Who are _they_?" he panted. - -"Controllers." - -"Civil Control?" - -"Sure. You must be pretty important. I didn't get it all. But they say -the controllers checked up on you after.... I'll explain later." - -The hall ended in a dim room piled high with plasmolite packing boxes -in great disarray. The boy chose a box and lifted a lid. - -"Follow me. It's a passage." - -"Where to?" - -"No time now. Down here." - -The passage, which seemed to be constructed of plasmolite boxes, seemed -somehow lit by daylight, although Craig could not actually see the -source of the light. - -The tunnel ended in broad afternoon daylight. As he climbed out he saw -a large clearing surrounded by ruins. - -"We're just inside the old city," the boy said. "We're safe now--unless -those controllers are willing to take more chances than I think." - -"Wait a minute, son. You said 'old city.' You mean that this is a part -of pre-war Los Angeles?" - -"Well, sure." - -"But that's supposed to be...." - -"Radioactive? Most of it, anyway. Good thing, too. Otherwise we'd have -no place to go." - -"Look, kid, you better explain," said Craig. "You were right about -somebody being after me, but I don't get the 'we' business. Or how you -knew all about this." - -"All right, mister, but let's get away from here. Those guys won't come -through to here, even if they find a way--I don't think. But they're -gettin' smarter and you're pretty hot right now." - -The boy led the way to what appeared to be a completely demolished -building. - -"Used to be the old library," he said. - -They circled the heap of plaster, brick, and twisted steel. On the -other side Craig saw what appeared to be a window. The boy let himself -down through it. - -Craig was amazed to find a large, relatively clear area inside, -probably part of an old room that had been spared by some freak of the -blast. - -"You _live_ here?" Craig asked the youngster incredulously. - -"Part of the time." The boy brought up an old crate and offered it to -Craig as a chair. "Listen, mister, I don't know who you are. You're an -ex-spaceman and that's enough for me." There was a slightly amusing -attempt at adult hardness about him. "You shouldn't have wasted time -with Nave. You should have got out of there." - -"Why?" - -"I don't know. What you done, anyway?" - -"I don't remember. Passed out at a bar...." - -The boy showed disgust. He glanced at the pocket which contained the -polyester. - -Craig smiled. "I don't use this stuff. At least not enough to deserve -what you're thinking." He tossed the remaining cubes on the littered -floor of the room. - -The boy maintained his look of scorn for a time, but then softened. "I -was afraid you got kicked out of the service for that." - -"How did you know I was ever in it?" - -"Easy. You don't know how to walk on a planet yet. Anybody can tell." - -"I didn't get kicked out," Craig said. "I came here to take a civil -service job." - -"It'd almost be better if you had been." - -"I didn't know about Terra. None of us had any idea." - -"I know," said the boy sadly. "My father quit, too. _He_ quit to marry -my mother. That was before it was ... so bad." - -"Where--" Craig began, then bit off the question. - -"Oh, gee, mister, Terra's in an _awful_ bad shape! They took ... my -parents. They hunt us down. They...." - -Craig approached the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's your -name, son?" - -"Phil." - -"Phil what?" - -"I don't know exactly. My father had to use so many names toward -the ... end. He once had only one name, but I guess even he forgot what -it was." - - * * * * * - -They prepared to spend the night in the old library room, but first -Phil left it and made his way into the wilderness of rubble. He -returned dragging a packing box of plastic insulating material, out of -which they fashioned a crude bed. Despite the thousands of questions -that paraded across Craig's mind, he waited each time for the boy to -speak. - -"I can't take you any further until...." - -"Until you know more about me?" - -"In a way. _They'll_ let me know." - -Craig would have risked much to identify the "they" Phil referred to, -but he did not ask the question. As he watched the boy preparing the -dimly lit room for the night, he felt sure Phil could be trusted. He -was almost frighteningly mature for his age. - -The room was well hidden, for the once great library lay in a powdered -ruin about it on all sides but a part of one. Only by accident or -knowledge would a stranger recognize it in what was literally a world -of rubble. During the moments of silence between the boy's volunteered -statements, Craig tried to visualize the awful catastrophe that had -befallen the old city. Piles of powdered masonry restricted his view -greatly under the gathering night. He could see a scant city block -through the window, but he knew the wreckage around them must extend -for miles. - -"You don't have to worry, mister...." - -"Craig." - -"Mr. Craig. They don't come in here at night." - -"Radioactivity?" - -"Yes. Not right here, but all around, everywhere." - -"What?" - -"It's all around us. You go through it to get here, but you can't -_stay_ anywhere but a few places like this." - -"How do you know all of these things, Phil?" - -"Oh, we know, all right. We had to find out." - -"You must have ion counters," he said in what he hoped was a casual -tone. - -"We have lots of things." - -Craig was thoughtful for a minute. The boy was obviously on his guard -now. - -"Those empty buildings?" Craig asked tentatively. - -"They built them too close," said the boy. It seemed to be a safe -subject. "They built them up as close as they thought was safe. Space -is very valuable here. But they built them too close." - -"Yet the 'we' you speak of live even closer?" - -The boy bit his lip and eyed him suspiciously in silence. - -"Look, kid," Craig said very deliberately, "I'm not a controller and -I'm not interested in a bunch of petty thieves." - -The effect was just what he had intended. "We're _not_ thieves! And -we're not traitors, either! We're...." - -The boy was almost in tears. Craig waited a moment, then continued in -a soft voice. "Phil, I'm just beginning to realize what a rotten place -Terra is. From just what I've seen--it isn't very much--I can imagine -such a system producing a great many 'we' groups like yours. I don't -know who you are or what you are, but you can't be any worse than what -I've already seen of Terran officials. Tell me, kid, what's it all -about? And is there any way out of here? I mean--_way_ out!" - -"You may tell him, Philip," said a quiet voice from the window -entrance. "Like us, Philip, Mr. Craig is an enemy of tyranny, though he -doesn't realize it yet." - -Craig instinctively jumped back to get out of range of the window, -meanwhile feeling around for something that could be used as a weapon. -But the boy ran to the silhouetted figure in the window. - -"Mr. Sam!" he cried eagerly. - -Craig relaxed his hold on a strip of heavy metal. When the man had -entered, the boy pulled a ragged black cloth across the window once -more. He then ignited a small oil burning lamp in a carved-out nook in -the wall. - -"It's all right, Philip, nobody is following me," the newcomer said. - -Craig studied his face. It was an old face covered by a stained gray -beard. With a shock Craig recognized the man as a tramp he had seen -earlier on the street, napping, sprawled in a doorway. Now for the -first time he saw the eyes. Sharp and clear, they caught up the yellow -light of the oil lamp and glowed warmly as they turned to Craig. - -"I am 'Mr. Sam,' Mr. Craig. You might know me by the full name, -Samuel Cocteau, but I doubt it. Even the names of the infamous do not -penetrate space." - -"I guess not," Craig agreed. "But you said something about my being an -enemy of tyranny." - -"Whether you like it at once or not, you are temporarily one of us--one -of the 'we' Philip has been speaking of. But all of that in due time. -Right now it is necessary for us to leave here." - -"They're going to try to find us _tonight_?" asked Phil, startled. - -"Yes, a tribute to Mr. Craig," said the old man. "A Geiger team is -being readied at the station." - -Craig started to protest as the boy began hurriedly to pick up his few -possessions in the room. - -"I'm sorry, Mr. Craig," the man said. "I must ask you to decide now -whether to trust us and our judgment. There is grave danger for you -if you are caught by the Civil Control. The report I have received is -that you are largely unaware of the 'crimes against the state' you have -committed. The Civil Control hoped to capture you before you find them -out. But that, of course, is my word only. There is no time to give you -proof, even if I had it." - -Craig's mind whirled under the sudden onslaught of new facts. He -had followed a peddler without knowing why he did it. He had bought -polyester he had no use for. He had followed a boy who beckoned to -him. Now--how much longer was he to move haphazardly through Terra like -a cork on a wind-blown sea? Who were these strange fugitives who said -he was one of them and who lived in the heart of a radioactive city? - -"Well, Mr. Craig?" asked Cocteau quietly. - -Craig glanced at the boy. The child's eyes were wide and pleading in -the dim light of the oil lamp. - -"Let's go," Craig said. - - * * * * * - -Darkness was swiftly falling on the wilderness of heaping ruin. The -three made their way toward what Craig at first thought was an unbroken -wall of rubble. The near-horizontal rays of the sun tipped the white -mass of broken stone with brilliance, and gave the entire scene an -unearthly quality. Below the towering rubble mountains, long black -shadows were reaching toward what Craig knew to be the living city. - -Cocteau took the lead and set a fast pace for a man of his age. He took -a highly devious path through the "mountain," or what began to seem to -Craig needlessly difficult and that outlined them against the bright -western sky. At one point Craig left the invisible path of the older -man to avoid an exhaustingly steep rise. - -"Follow me exactly," warned Cocteau in a sharp voice. "There is only -one relatively safe path through here." - -"They'll see us against the sky!" - -"It cannot be helped." - -But there was no indication that they were followed. They pushed -onward, scurrying over heaps of weathered plaster and brick. The old -man seemed to avoid with great care places where metal girders were -visible. - -The exertion together with walking directly into the setting sun made -Craig begin to feel the old nausea return. He resisted it for a time, -but it would not be repressed, particularly as he strove to maintain -his balance on difficult climbs. Once he stumbled on a splintered -building stone and fell. It was a long minute before he could regain -his feet and mutter a feeble, "Sorry." - -"We must push on, Mr. Craig," was Cocteau's only comment. - -"It's safe here for a _minute_, isn't it?" Craig panted, dizzy and -breathless. - -"There is no safe place here, Mr. Craig." - -They continued their winding way through the growing darkness. For -Craig it became a nightmare of stumbling over the endless piles of -sharp stones. His mind spun sickeningly and he retched as he half ran -along the path Cocteau set for them. - -"Please, mister," breathed the voice of Phil behind him. "It isn't so -far now." - -Doggedness carried Craig onward long after awareness left him. - - * * * * * - -He became conscious suddenly, as though by an injection of stimulant. -He found himself surrounded by a number of figures, including Cocteau -and a white garbed man, evidently a doctor. - -"You are quite safe now, Mr. Craig," said Cocteau warmly. "Welcome to -the _City of We_." - -"Where are we?" - -"Deep in the old city, in a place where the radioactivity is -negligible," the man answered as the doctor took his pulse. "This is -Dr. Grant and these others are members of the _Liberty party_." - -"Liberty!" - -"You've heard of it?" - -"Yeah, you're pretty unpopular, aren't you?" - -"Unpopular? Let us say that all of Terran _officialdom_ is dedicated to -exterminating us." - -"The committee on something-or-other asked me about my attitudes toward -the Liberty party," said Craig, rising to a sitting position on the cot. - -"And at the time you had a lack of attitude, which most likely was -unacceptable to them," supplied Cocteau, smiling. "Well, you may be -interested to know that you are considered one of us by most of Terra -just now." - -"_What?_" - -"That is correct," said another of the group. "It seems you were in a -bar in--ah--in a somewhat less than fully conscious state...." - -"But I didn't know anything about the Liberty party." - -"No, nor is it alleged that you actually mentioned the party in so many -words," continued the white-haired man, smiling. "But it seems that you -did make certain statements in the presence of certain persons that did -indicate a definite predilection...." - -"That's crazy," said Craig angrily. - -"Of course," Cocteau agreed. - -"Furthermore," the other man said, "you are charged with wilful -abandonment of duty and 'acts indicative of your desire to shun the -best utilization of your talents in behalf of the state of Terra.'" - -"In other words," explained Cocteau, "you applied for a job on a -private space freighter. Without permission to do so." - -Craig was silent. He lay back down on the cot and tried to absorb the -data he had just received. - -"So I'm accused of belonging to something I don't know anything about?" - -"Then I'll tell you briefly about us. You have a right to know the -magnitude of the crime with which you are charged." Cocteau took a seat -by Craig's cot. The others also found chairs. - -"But first a brief bit of history--a history that you have never -heard before. Not your fault. It is not allowed to penetrate Terra's -atmosphere." - -"I don't know much about Terra," Craig interjected. "I'm just finding -out how much I don't know." - -"God, I wish the rest of the Universe could find out with you!" said -one of the group. - -"Yes, the history of Terra is almost lost now. That is, the part of it -that followed the Great Wars of seventy-five years ago. You know of -those wars; you have just walked through one of the physical results of -them. No nation or alliance of nations can be said to have won them, -but the wars had a most profound effect upon Terra. More than anything -else, they made men reach to the stars, if only to escape the deadly -conflicts of Terra. - -"Ideological issues were involved, naturally, but the underlying cause -of the Great Wars was the struggle for power. The world was disunited. -Peoples were divided from peoples by an almost inconceivable number -of unimportant distinctions. These were ethnical, national, racial, -cultural--name any brand of prejudice and you'll find it existed then. - -"Incredibly enough, the destructiveness of the Great Wars accomplished -a kind of unity. Gone were the once proud aggressive nations. -Gone into oblivion. Gone, too, were the systems of economics and -sociology of which men were once so sure. There was a kind of -'plague-on-both-your-houses' attitude among the peoples of the world. -There was a large measure of anarchy following the Great Wars. Not -a violent, active anarchy of hate and terror, but of apathy and -weariness. Apathy at the outcome of false conflicts, and weariness of -the self-defeating strife of man against man. - -"At first men produced by the full extent of their labors barely -enough on which to survive. Only gradually did they regain their -ability to produce surpluses once more. Of course, surpluses mean -exchanges--trade. And trade requires order and system. - -"The first ten years following the Great Wars was a period of -gradualism in all things. Peoples united in small groups. There were -no political or racial divisions. The units were built upon functional -lines. They were natural and free. Above all, they were cooperative. - -"It was not communism. Men knew all too well the mental and physical -slavery of that brutally rigid system. It was not rugged individualism -either. Rugged individuals during this period either starved or were -driven out by the starving. - -"This natural, cooperative unity spread and became more complex. There -came into being natural associations of units. Not exclusive but -inclusive associations that linked all who would join and could produce -surpluses. Productivity increased thereby. Men were intelligent enough -to avoid many of the old abuses. - -"Ways were found to harness the productivity of each man and woman. -Genuine efforts were made to avoid misfits, to make those who produced -fit. It was realized, Mr. Craig, that the unhappy man will infect -others with his misery, and the trouble he will cause is much more -difficult to undo than to prevent in the first place. - -"There were, of course, mistakes, false starts. But the new-found -system of world-wide unity proved flexible. It was multiple-based. To -a very large degree, all men fitted into it logically and naturally. -It was the first truly 'grass-roots' economic and social system in the -history of man. And it was a great tribute to his ability to work out -his destiny, particularly since it came after a tragedy that was so -enormous and devastating. - -"The list of its successes is incredible. For in a decade the -age-old problem of poverty seemed to have disappeared. There were no -significant outbreaks of disorder and lawlessness--indeed, there was -comparatively little need for a written law. The principle of mutuality -and cooperation was too strongly conditioned into the people. - -"Scientifically, the first half of the new century, a scant twenty-five -years after the last bomb was dropped, was the greatest in man's -history. Man reached the stars. He began to know the molecule, the -atom, the electron. He pushed the frontier of his knowledge deep into -both microcosm and macrocosm. - -"But a fatal flaw had long before developed in the structure, wonderful -as it was. It was an age-old flaw. It was one that was disguised by the -very nature of the new system. When it was recognized, that flaw had -so weakened the system that its spread was all but inevitable. It is a -flaw that will always plague man to a certain extent, but one that must -keep us eternally vigilant. - -"It is this: the greatest human good comes not in how well you learn to -control man and keep him from harming himself. What determines it is -how completely you learn to free him. - -"Conversely, the law provides that no control system, however devised, -will succeed in bringing happiness and security to man to any greater -extent than it permits the fullest expression of his nature. - -"Man is _inherently_ good. He will _always_ choose a moral path when -free to do so. He strives for justice and truth both as an individual -and in mass. - -"Mr. Craig, democracy is man's greatest _a priori_. Yet based upon a -law of restraint, it cannot escape the hopeless contradiction that -leads to its own destruction. Man can democratically do the irrational -and the insane. He can democratically limit and coerce the absolute -highest nature of himself. Bad laws are forever passed to achieve good -ends. But each new law produces new criminals while the cause of the -new crime remains unsolved. - -"Ergo, the world you have just seen. Ergo, the Liberty party. Mr. -Craig, our world is ruled by a vast and horrible bureaucracy whose -terrible weapon is conformity. You would find few laws even today -written in books. Our assemblies pass few statutes. They determine -dogma instead. They 'resolve' and 'move.' They fix a new 'position,' -define a 'stand.' Our equivalent of judge and attorney is no student -of law. He is a kind of moralist. He is sensitive to the 'trend' and -appreciative of the 'proper.' - -"Terra fits uncomfortably in the Intergalactic System. Like many of the -undemocratic systems of the dark past, the Terran state must expand. -It is based upon a self-limiting philosophy unless it can spread fast -enough. You are charged with being 'unTerran,' Mr. Craig. A system that -forever seeks 'unTerrans' must inevitably exile or kill itself!" - -It had been a long speech. Craig had listened in awe, for it was a -completely new story to him. - -"And you propose to destroy this bureaucracy?" he said. - -"In so far as it is a philosophical entity, yes." - -"And you say I am one of you now?" - -"You are considered one of us. Your employer and his secretary are also -suspected." - -"But I'm entitled to a trial, or at least a hearing." - -"Not now, Mr. Craig. It would do you little good, anyway. The -'position' of the Assembly on subversion is that it 'rightly behooves -every loyal Terran so to conduct his behavior that a suspicion of -membership in the Liberty party is unthinkable.'" - -Craig found himself regretting every minute of his stay on Terra. -Old Brockman had been right--it was no place for a spaceman. Now it -was probably too late. No Terran space freighter would accept him and -Intergalactic could not. There was not even a way for him to recover -his service records. - -"Will you join us, Mr. Craig?" asked one of the men. "We can use your -skills, particularly your knowledge of space." - -"Look, how do I know you aren't a bunch of traitors? Maybe all this -you've told me is true. I've seen plenty of that bureaucracy and there -seems to be damned little freedom of action left on Terra. But how do I -know you can do any better when you get in power?" - -"Liberty will never be 'in power,' Mr. Craig," Cocteau said quietly. -"Liberty will attempt to reach the minds of the people with our message -of hope, of freedom in true democracy." - -Another of the group joined Cocteau. "We are now hunted as criminals. -We have only this small stronghold in the old city." - -"We shall attempt only to gain entry to the minds of the people," said -Cocteau. "Gain entry to tell them how they live, for most of them have -had no contact with any other kind of life." - -"It would mean killing a few people," Craig pointed out. - -"One of the basic principles of Liberty is the inherent goodness of -every man," Cocteau repeated. "We have never taken a life, even in -self-defense. We shall never take one. Nor will it ever be necessary -for a member of the Liberty party to hold public office, to own a -weapon, to coerce a man in any physical way." - -"But you will coerce them with ideas. Is that what you have in mind?" -Craig protested. - -"If a point of view, a promise, a goal is coercion, then the answer to -your question is yes. But ideas are not dangerous when a man is free to -argue and act against them." - -"Look here, Cocteau," Craig said earnestly, "all you say may be true. -I believe it is. But what can I do? I'm a spaceman, or at best an -apprentice import clerk. I don't know anything about this sort of work." - -"Come here a moment," invited a member of the group. - -Through the window indicated by the man, Craig saw an incredible sight. -The entire scene seemed to be on the inside of a vast underground -cavern. There were other buildings and some kind of systematic work -being done by many men and women. But the thing that caught Craig's eye -seemed to be cradled in a kind of hangar. - -"A spaceship!" exclaimed Craig. - -"A very modest one, yet not so modest when you consider that it was -necessary to carry in every single piece and part by hand." - -"Good Lord!" - -"_You_, Mr. Craig, might captain that ship. Very few Terrans have -ever even flown in one. It will be necessary to establish contact with -possible assistance outside of Terra. You can make that possible." - -Craig was thoughtful. "I suppose, now that I've seen all this, you -can't let me leave here unless I join you." - -"No," denied Cocteau. "You may leave here any time you like." - -"I'd be sure to get caught, of course...." - -"Within limits, it might be possible to help you avoid capture." -Cocteau reached into his beggar's coat and withdrew a wallet. "Identity -card, food ration, clothing, work card, even a Government party card. -It's all here, Mr. Craig. You could have a slightly altered physical -appearance. Liberty accepts no unwilling members. You are given as -nearly a free choice in this matter as is possible to give you." - -"Suppose I talked?" asked Craig, nodding bluntly toward the port. - -Cocteau smiled. "It was necessary to prepare for that. You were given a -drug. It has not affected your thinking capacity in any way. But once -it wears off, you will be unable to remember what took place while -under its influence. - -"When agents of the Liberty party are sent out of here, they go having -had all experience with Liberty take place while under the drug. None -of us could remember for more than a few hours the exact location of -this headquarters. When it is necessary to leave for very long, we -carry a small amount of the drug with us. Many of our agents have -been caught and a few have resigned. But none has divulged enough -information to harm us seriously." - -Craig was postponing his decision to the last. "They must know you're -somewhere in here. If the radioactivity keeps them out, why shouldn't -they put a cordon around the entire old city?" - -"Periodically, they try. But there are many, many other ways of leaving -here than by the surface. Underground water conduits, ancient power and -sewer lines, a number of tunnels we have dug...." - -Craig was solemnly handed the wallet. - -"If you will submit to sufficient plastic surgery to make you resemble -this man, you may safely leave here no later than tomorrow night." - -A long silence ensued. It was interrupted by a noise from outside the -door of the room. It was the voice of Phil. - -"Has he decided to stay? Did you see him? He looks like my daddy -did.... Will he stay?" - -"You mustn't interrupt, son. They're in conference now. We'll let you -know." - -"Tell him yes!" said Craig in a loud voice. "Tell him hell, yes, I'm -staying!" - -The men gathered around him to congratulate him on the decision. - -Phil was allowed in the clinic to join them. - -"Oh, Cocteau, one more thing," Craig said. - -"Yes?" - -Craig was fumbling for his own wallet. He extracted a folded card. - -"Where would East 71, North 101, Number 4 be?" - -"It _would_ have been somewhere here in Old City." - -"God! How did the old guy expect me to deliver this message? Old -man named Brockman. He sent me a message just before he died in -Gravitation. I was to visit his wife." - -"Brockman?" asked Cocteau. "You mean Ethel Brockman?" - -"Yeah. How'd you know?" - -"Ethel Brockman was one of the organizers of the Liberty party. She -served as its chairman until her death only a few years ago. Her -husband must have felt your 'sea legs' would lead you to us eventually. -And, of course, they did." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sea Legs, by Frank Quattrocchi - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA LEGS *** - -***** This file should be named 51407.txt or 51407.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/4/0/51407/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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