Astounding v60n04 (1957 12) (Gorgon776)

Page 1

Page 2

Page 3

OPTICAL BARGAINS CI^STM^^ GIFTS! See the Stars, Moon, Planets Close Up! BooKS,*^iNc. Reflecting Telescope 11032 MAGNOLIA Famous Mt. Polomor Type) 7I4-539-1715 |20 Power — An Unusual Buy! Assembled — Ready to Use! You’ll set* llie KIiiks of Saturn. Mu* faseinal iiiK plam*! Mars. Iiu^e craters on the Moon. Star (‘lus- ters, Moons of .luiiiter in detail, (tulaxu's! Kiniatoriai inuunl with lock nrtahle tripod. Free with scope; Valuable STAR CHART and 272-page “Astronomy Book." Stock No. 80,050-A $29.50 f. o. b (ShijipinK wt. If) Ihs.) Uarrinuton, N. J. 4'/i" ASTRONOMICAL TELESCOPE -Ml. ,1’aloniar type. Fp trox. 25 Ihs. Thirriiigton. X. .1. PHOTOGRAPHERS! -\dai)t your camera to tliis Scope for excellent Teleplioto shots and fascinating photos of moon! New! 2— m-1 Combination Pocket-size 50-Power MICROSCOPE and 10-Power TELESCOPE ONLY $4.50 Postpaid i'sefiil Teleseupe and microscope com- hinetl In one amazing precision instru- ment, Imported: Xo larger than a fountain nen. Telescojie is 10- Power. Microscope magnifies 50 limes. Sliarp focus at any range. Handy for 8port.s, iimking at small nt)je<'ts. just plain snooping. Send Check or M. 0. Satisfaction Guaranteed Order Stock No. 30.059-A $4.50 Postpaid instniciion ixHiklet NEW! STATIC ELEC- TRICITY GENERATOR See a thrilling spark liisplay as you set off a miniature bolt of ligliining. .Vhsolutely safe and liarmlcKS . . . ideal for Science ('lui)s. Sturdily made — stands U" high. Turn the handle* atid tMo It" idaslic discs rotate in op posite liirei'tions. Metal eollector hruslies jiiek up the statie- cL-:- trleitv, store it in the Leyden jat type cond«*nser mitll discharged hy the .Uimping spark. Counl.leSB tricks and experiments. 21-jiage inclmled. stock No. 70,070-A $10.95 Postpaid itrccisiim-made :i2' power rellecting telescope - hy the makers itf Spitz J' laiiet ar i ii m. Clearly reveals ilie craters of the moon, sliows Saturn, .lupiler. other Wonders of the heavens. Itased on same princijiles as world's giant tele- sccpcs. Stands fid" Ideh on removable legs, .\djustahle 3" polished am! cor- rected mirror. Fork type .Vlt-Azlimith rotates on full 3iU)° circle — swings to any Itication in tiie sky. 1‘ascinating LS-page Instruction hook is included. Instrumcnl pa<*ke<l in stuniy carrying case. SPITZ MOONSCOPE stock No. 70,068-A $14.95 Postpaid 50-150-300 POWER MICROSCOPE Low Price Yet Suitable for Classroom Use! Only $14.95 3 Achromatic Objective Lenses On Revolving Turret! Imported! The eolor-correcteil. cemented achroniafic lenses in the ohjecllves give you far superior results to the siiigle lenses found ill llie microsjxipes selling for $n.05: Results are worth the differ- ence.! Fhie rack ami ninifiii fc'cusing. Stock No. 70.008-A $14.95 Postpaid INSTRUCTION BOOKLETS Strok No. Mow 1(1 lluild projectors 9014-A ffoiuchulll Telescopes 9006-A fLTRA (TAISK-T’P Photography 9042-A Fun Witli Optics 9050-A Postpaid 30c 40C 60C 50C GET FREE CATALOG A -\merica's Xo. 1 source of supidy for experimenters. Iioliliyists. \Vi rid’s largest variety of Oplleal Items, llar- gains galore. . . . War Surplus — Im- ported liomestie! Mieroseopes. Tele- seoiies. Satellile Telescopes. Infrared snitterseope and parts, .Prisms. Lenses. Reticles. Mirrors and dozens of other hard-to-get Optical Items. WRITE FOR FREE CATALOG A ORDER ir STOCK NUMtlK . SEND CHECK OR MONtY OKDtK . SATISf ACTION OUAKANTttD! EDMUND SClENtiFIC CO., BARRINGTON, N. J.

Page 4

Genlac set up to solve problem in space ship engineering. GENIACS arc easy to bnild, require no soldering, operate on a tiasliliglit hatlery and when you are lln- ished with those in the manual you can build your own (we have a contest, too. for the best designs!. GENIACS BY CHRISTMAS Teg, we believe every home should have a GENTAC for Christmas. Why? First of all almost everj’one else has one already and you don’t want to be left out, do you? More important though it's the one present that a father can get his son (and vice versa) that both of them will enjoy. Isn't that enough? Or are you twisting my arm to find out what a GKNIAC actually is? Ouch! GENIAC the Electric Brain Construction Kit is a com- plete course (seven books and manuals) plus all the parts (over 400 components and pieces of equipment including a display rack, special switches, etc.) for making forty differ- ent computing, reasoning, music composing and game-play- ing machines. Already in use by hundreds of schools, colleges, profes- sional scientists, amateurs and students GENIAC teaches you how to build simple computers from scratch — gives 5’ou all the parts and know-how with wiring diagrams and step- by-step instructions. When you have completed all the ex- periments in our manuals, and studied the texts you can actually design new machines. Order your GENIAC now, only $19.95 postpaid, (add 80«) west of the Mississippi. $2.00 outside the United States). HYPERSPEED READING . . . for me meant increasing my reading speed from 000 to ISOO words per minute, enough to finish a novel in half an hour, to triple the number of tech- nical jounials and report.s 1 read. Much to my sur- prise my comprehension went up and studying be- came ca.sier as ! enjoyed reading more. 1 went from normal reading speed to hyperspecd reading in thirty hours of intensive reading prac- tice at a leadijig reading clinic, and immediately thought how wonderful it would be for people who don’t have the lime or opportunity to take such im- provement work to do it at home, for several hours a day. Ever since then I have gathered materials which arc proven, widely used and time-tested in clinics, schoohs and reading centers but are adaptable to use by adults working at home without supervision. You will imnu'iliately Increase your reading speed with them if your reading habits are correct but can be accelerated, with i raetice. If you have reading difficulties they will be brought out in the diagnostic reading test we in- clude and will analyze with recommendations at no extra cost to you. The kit includes a reading rate accelerator with cards, two b(H)ka of practice materials with techni- cal exercises that test reading speed and compre- hension. and a booklet on hyperspecd reading. Price of kit including reading rate accelerator, basic manual, technical reading manual, and dis- cussion of hyperspeed reading plus diagnostic read- ing test with analysis. Kit Rl. .$24.00 postpaid A 66-inch Slide-rule for your pocket The Calculator carries a 66- inch spiral scale yet measureg only ten inches fully extended and six inches when closed. Four- to five-figure accuracy can be relied on. Of non* warping, metal construction, with plastic coated scales it will give years of service. Model L solves multiplica- tion, division, percentage cal- culations and gives loga- rithms. Half an hour’s study is am- ple for its use. Use this calculator for all your slide rule work and if you are not satisfied after a week repack it and mail it back for full refund. Price Model I., sliipped postpaid $19.95 (Add 3c/„ city sales tax in N.Y.C.) UP TO DATP^ your knoivledge of thC'Se new technical fields rusty? Per- ^ ^ IE* haps you never had time to study them but need to nmv. Write for free information about our new, modern, low-cost course. Work at your oivn sjwed at home. Check those that interest you. ' PHYSICS High School Physics □ Part 1 — PlA O Part 2— PIB College Physics n Part 1— P2A □ Part 2 — P2B MATHEMATICS □ Trigonometry □ Algebra D Solid Geometry □ Calculus □ Statistics ELECTRONICS □ Television PSA □ Radio PS B □ Radar— Theoretical P3C1 □ Radar — Practical ,P3C2 □ Musical Instruments PSD CHEMISTRY □ High school □ College H Analytic □ Qualitative U Quantitative □ Organic D Physical BIOLOGY O High School O Human Biology D Zoology n Botany □ Genetics □ Acoustics Hi-Fi P4 □ Nuclear Physics P5 □ Analog Computer C3 O Digital Computer C2 O Memory Storage Cl □ Construction of Robots PS7 PSYCHOLOGY D Normal PSl □ Child PS? □ Abnormal PS3 □ Mental Hygiene PS4 □ Aptitude Test PS5 □ Rapid Reading PS6 □ Cofistruction of Robots PS7 □ Please lend mo GENIAC Kit. $19.95 (Add $1.00 West of Mississippi or $2.00 Outside U. S.) OLIVER GARFIELD CO., Dept. ASF-127, 31 Broadway, New Haven, Conn.

Page 5

Astounding SCIENCE FICTION VOLUME LX • NUMBER 4 December 1957 Novelettes Precedent . . , The First Inch Short Stories Truce by Boomerang Christopher Anvil 32 Danger — Human! Gordon R. Dickson 64 Seriol Citizen of the Galaxy Robert A. Heinlein 81 (Conclusion) Article The Whenabouts of Radioactivity Isaac Asimov 132 Robert Silverberg 8 , . . . Jon Stopa 42 Heoders' Departments The Editor’s Page .... The Reference Library . . In Times to Come .... The Analytical Laboratory 5 P. Schuyler Miller 148 158 158 Editor: JOHN W. CAMPBELL, JR. Assistant Editor: KAY TARRANT Advertising Manager: WALTER J. McBRlDE COVER BY FREAS • /l/us/rof/ons by Freas and van Dongen SYMBOL: Trigger effect. The editorial contents have not been published before, are protected by copyright and cannot be reprintd without publisher's permission. All stories in this magazine are fiction. No actual persons are designated by name or character. Any similarity is coincidental. Astoundififf SCIENCE FICTION published monthly by Street & Smith Publications, Incorporated, at 575 Madison Avenue, New York 22, N. Y. Arthur Z. Gray, President; Ralph II. Whittaker, Jr., EiXecutive Vice-Prosideiil; Arthur P. Lawler, Vice-President and Secretary; Robert E. Park, Vice-President and Advertising Director; Thomas II. Kaiser, Treasurer. © 1957 by Street & Smith publications, Inc., in the United States and countries signatory to the Berne Convention and Pan American Convention. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office, New York, N. Y. Subscription $3.50 for one year and $6.00 for two years in the United States, Possessions and Canada; $4.75 for one year and $8.00 for two years in Pan American Union, Philippine Islands and Spain. Elsewhere $5.00 for one year and $8.50 for two years. VTien possible allow four weeks for change of address. Give old address and new address when notifying us. We cannot accept responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or art work. Any material submitted must include return postage. All subscriptions should be addressed to Sub- scription Department, Street & Smith Publications, Incorporated, 304 East 45th Street, New York 17, New York. $3.50 per Year in U. S. A. Printed in U. S. A. 35 cents per Copy 4 • NEXT ISSUE ON SALE DECEMBER 17, 1957 •

Page 6

DEMONSTRATION PART I 'J‘o a mathematician, "to demon- strate" means to produce a valid sequence of mathematical logic yield- ing as a conclusion the proposition lieing demonstrated. "Quod erat dcDionstrandiim” in the classical plirase. The development of physical sci- ence as an intellectual discipline has brought in the concept of "demon- stration” which has to do with a pliysical-action display. But the ques- tion I’ll like to bring up is . . . precisely whal relationship does it liave to physical-action display? Pre- cisely what does "a demonstration” mean in modern science? The thing that makes it tricky is that Logic, which is our principal formal tool of intellectual communi- cation, is not in one-to-one corre- spondence with physical reality. Mathematical demonstration can be fully defined; Logic in the full, for- mal sense, works only when all the relevant data are available. In mathe- matics, the logician is working in a “universe of discourse”; that uni- verse contains all the characteristics he assigns it, and none that he has not assigned it. It has no unsuspected characteristics, however many hith- erto unrecognized deductions may be possible. A mathematical problem in X, y, and z, for instance, can never have an unsuspected w acting on the equations so that the x, j, z system won’t balance. But when physicists tried calcu- lating atomic behavior in terms of electrons and protons, their mathe- matical equations might balance per- fectly . . . but the real atoms didn’t match so good. There were unsuspect- ed neutrons, neutrinos, positrons, and other factors unbalancing the system. Mathematical demonstrations can be clear, clean, and definitive; they work in a universe defined in full by the mathematician. Physical science finds mathematics enormously helpful . . . but "demon- stration" in physical science involves DEMONSTRATION 5

Page 7

something other than the neat, clean,, and complete mathematical-logic type demonstration. Fine . . . but what does it involve, precisely What does constitute "a demonstration”? Part of the problem of defining that is that we can’t define "mean- ing.” Every human being has a con- viction that the term ' 'meaning” has a reality-referrent — but no one yet has been able to define that refer- rent. Facts are not a demonstration, because demonstration involves a clear communication of meaning of the facts — which gets difficult when "meaning” itself can’t be defined. For example, I can give photo- graphic "demonstration” of a fact; that I can hang unsupported in mid air. The photograph will be a com- pletely honest, unretouched photo- graph, of perfect clarity; it involves no montage work, or anything of the sort, no concealed wires or anything else. It can be done with a three- axis photographic set-up, showing the demonstration from three view- points at the same instant All I need is a properly equipped modern pro- fessional photographic studio, with an adequate bank of 1/100, 000th second electronic flash lamps. Now this would be a true, valid, genuine demonstration of the fact that I can hang unsupported in mid air; that would be precisely what I would, in fact, do. The only problem here is the definition, the meaning, of the term "hang.” Long ago, H. G. Wells, in his "Time Machine” story, brought up the question of whether S an "instantaneous cube” existed. If something exists for less than one ten-trillionth of a second, can it be said to exist? Recent studies indicate that the energy-production in some of the older — and most brilliant — stars comes from helium thermonuclear reactions, which depend on a chain of reactions going through the beryl- lium isotope, Be-8. But Be-8 has a half-life of about 10"i5 seconds — about one quadrillionth of a second. Something which exists for so short a time doesn’t really exist within the meaning of "exist,” does it? By the time a star’s core reaches the densities and temperatures involved in these helium thermonuclear reactions, in- terparticle collisions occur so fast that even lO'ts seconds becomes an appreciable period. There’s another tough problem. Suppose a man has a wonderful new theory of how the phenomenon of frahmstahling takes place. He’s con- vinced that it happens because of process Zeta. So he sets out to prove his theory by finding data to fit his theory; he even tortures normal phe- nomena into wild and wonderful improbabilities to force the data he needs to appear. Now is this weird set-up he ar- ranges to be called "cooking the data to fit the theory” or "perform- ing a crucial experiment”? Lord Rutherford claimed that the elements could be transmuted by the action of radioactivity radiations. By the use of a weird contraption in- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 8

volving a rubber bulb, an inverted Ehrlenmeyer flask nearly filled with India-ink stained water, and a little radium, he got some photographs of some cloudiness which he claimed showed transmutation was possible. Was this cooking the data to fit a theory, or a crucial experiment? All he actually demonstrated was that water vapor will condense to form fog when a saturated volume of vapor-in-air is suddenly expanded. Furthermore, he couldn’t demon- strate the phenomenon on demand; he had only a few pictures that he claimed were proof of his theory. Current nuclear research work being done with the Bevatron in California cannot be duplicated in other laboratories elsewhere. There’s only one Bevatron. Are these experi- ments "repeatable experiments,” then? What does the term mean? Some recent studies on the mecha- nism of corrosion inhibitors lead to a theory that the size of the ion of tlie inhibitor had a lot to do with it. In order to demonstrate their theory, howe\'er, the researchers had to cook up something to prove their point — they synthesized their data-yielding material, since nothing in nature confirmed their idea. They made up a corrosion-inhibiting solution of technitium, which doesn’t exist in nature and had to be synthesized in a nuclear reactor. During WWII, when radar was first being used, it proved remarkably peculiar in its behavior. It did things that everybody knew were impossible; microwave radar can’t reach from the Caribbean to the Portuguese coast . . . but it did every now and then, to the confusion of all concerned. The inverse square law could read- ily show that Marconi’s signals couldn’t be picked up across the Atlantic, and anyone who knew any- thing about electromagnetic radiation would know that the curvature of the Earth would completely block signals from England to America. (Ionosphere reflection wasn’t so well known in those days.) It was the radio amateurs who dis- covered some of the wild and un- predictable phenomena of very high frequency radio propagation — things like ion-clouds in the upper strato- sphere, and radio reflection from the ionized trails left by meteors. The concept "demonstration” be- comes extremely difficult to handle in these areas. The hams who first started getting radio contact at the very high frequencies, over impos- sible distances — such frequencies aren’t reflected by the ionosphere, and are, normally, limited to line- of-sight — didn’t have any explana- tion for the phenomenon. It just hap- pened that Bill, in New York, con- tacted Bob, in Chicago, on a fre- quency band that couldn’t possibly do it, and carried on an exchange of information sufficient to allow them to identify each other, and confirm the contact by mail. They would have been utterly un- able to demonstrate the phenomenon on demand before competent wit- (Continued on page 159) DEMONSTRATION 1

Page 9

PRECEDENT One of the best ways to convince someone he’s got a wrong idea is to mousetrap him into trying to make it work . . . when it simply can’t be made to work. BY ROBERT SILVERBERG lllustrafed by Marflnez On the second day of the third week since the Terran mission had arrived on Leeminorr, Lieutenant Blair Pickering committed an out- rageous crime. Within an hour^ news of what Pickering had done had per- colated back to the Terran base. There, Colonel Lome Norden studied the situation very carefully. Norden was commamling oflicer of the Terran Cultural and Military Mission on Leeminorr. The actions of his men were, ultimately, his re- sponsibility. And since the Leemi- 8 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 10

norrans were touchy, formalistic, custom-bound people, highly con- scious of the presence of Terrans among them, Norden gave the mat- ter of Pickering’s behavior particu- larly careful attention. He would have to make a decision in the case, and he knew clearly and well the consequences of a wrong-headed decision. The Corps kept careful records. There was a considerable body of precedent. And precedent dictated special handling for the Pickering case. The incident had taken place shortly before noon — noon, the holiest hour on Leeminorr. Now, it was one- thirty; the midday repose was ended, and Norden knew it would not be long before indignant Leeminorrans arrived to begin filing their formal complaints. The Terran camp was eight miles outside the town of Irkhiq, a village of perhaps three thousand Leemi- norrans, built radially out from their temple. Norden’s office was, coinci- dentally, located in the same relative position to the other Terran build- ings as the Irkhiq temple was to the village surrounding it. It had been sheer accident — the master-plan for PKECEDENT 9

Page 11

Cultural and Military outposts dic- tated the arrangement — but it had worked out well. Norden himself waited patiently behind his desk for the first delega- tion to arrive. He was of medium height, but stocky and thick-muscled; for some reason his legs were short and dumpy, but when everyone was seated around a conference table Norden seemed the biggest man in the room. His hands were enormous; his forearms, massive and corded. He had been in the Service nineteen years. This was the eighth world on which he had served. He had taken his degree in Sociometrics at the Uni- versity of Chicago in 2685, and five years later had won his commission in the Space Service Military Wing. He made methodical, ' crisp nota- tions in the log while waiting. Nor- den was not a man for brooding idly — and, as for developing a strat- egy to cope with the potentially explosive situation shaping up, he had done that a long time be-”" fore. At 1400 sharp his office communi- cator glowed. Norden reached smoothly for the stud, switched it on, and said: "Norden here. What goes?” “Five Leeminorrans here to see you, sir. They look disturbed. It’s about this Pickering business, I think. Should I send them in?” "At once.” Norden tidied his desk, swung around in his chair, and waited. After a moment the doorphone 10 buzzed hesitantly, a timid droning sound. “Come in,” Norden said. Five Leeminorrans entered, single file, their faces grave and severe. They arranged themselves in an open circle, their leader facing Norden, flanked by two of them at each side. Norden had always felt faintly un- comfortable in the presence of the Leeminorrans. A short man himself, he had learned to feel distrust for taller people — and the Leeminorrans were tall. They stood nearly seven feet in height, magnificent humanoid specimens with powerful-looking shoulders and brawny frames. Five of them, five males, in the discord- antly-colored clothing of anger, sav- age reds shot through with raging violets and blacks. Their arms and legs were bare, allowing view of the superb muscles. The Leeminorrans had oiled themselves, applying the rancid animal fat that gave sheen and glow to their sleek metallic-blue skins. Ten eyes, red-rimmed and feral, stared at him. Five lipless slitted mouths scowled down. Five angular- featured alien faces glowered at him. There was a long moment of silence in the room. Five pairs of arms were extended in a ritual greeting: arms out, palms up, then fists clenched, biceps flexed. Impassively Norden watched the muscles bulge. Without rising, he acknowledged the greeting with three crisp, short Leeminorran syllables. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 12

"You are Colonel Norden?” asked the foremost of the Leeminorrans. His voice was deep and big; it rattled in the cavern of his chest a moment before booming forth into the little room. "I am,” Norden said. "I am Ahmntinok, Guardian of the Truth. I bring greetings from the Overman of Irkhiq, whose chosen representative I am.” Norden nodded. "The Overman is welcome here himself^ of course.” "The Overman did not choose to come,” replied Ahmntinok stonily. He gestured at his four companions. "I bring with me two priests of the temple, and two servants of the Overman. They, too, offer you greet- ings.” The four flankers bent their knees solemnly, w'ithout speaking. Equally silently, Norden nodded response. The preliminaries over, Ahrunti- nok glared down at Norden and said, "You have heard of what took place in Irkhiq this morning?” "Perhaps. I heard what may have been a distorted account of the event. How does the Overman see it, Ahmntinok?” "As blasphemy,” came the flat, cold reply. "Suppose you tell me what hap- pened,” Norden suggested. With a casual gesture of his left hand he flicked on the autotype; it would be important to have a recording of Ahruntinok’s statement later, he knew. The alien squinted suspiciously at the device as it came humming into life, but made no protest. He said, "It was morning in the village, the sun climbing high toward the top of the sky, when your Pickering and his men arrived in the small car you use for riding in. They drove through the outer streets of Irkhiq as they do every morning. They passed the tem- ple. It was nearly the moment of noon, when the sun’s rays strike the front steps of the temple, purifying it for that day and making it pos- sible for us to enter and pray. "Several of us were there when Pickering came along. He entered the temple courtyard. He ignored the cries of the priests in attendance and passed over the steps at the sa?ne moment as the rays of the sun! Then he proceeded to sit on the steps, draw a foodpack from his uniform pocket, and eat. The priests contin- ued to protest, but he paid no atten- tion to them. When he was finished eating, he crumpled his refuse paper and left it where he sat; then, he returned to his vehicle and rode away. The temple is polluted. The purification ceremony will take days.” Ahmntinok paused. His face was bleak; his arms were folded, one six-fingered hand grasping each elbow in an aggressive, accusing manner. "Lieutenant Pickering has commit- ted blasphemy,” the alien said. "He must be tried in full court and pun- ished for this, or else the temple’s purification will be made much more difficult.” PRECEDENT 11

Page 13

Norden dosed his eyes for a mo- ment, then opened them — and when lie opened them, they were hard and searching. "Pickering’s in his quar- ters now. I haven’t spoken to him y'et. I want to hear his side of this case.” "How long will that take?” "Are you in a hurry?” "The people must travel to the next town to pray. We wish to hold the trial tonight and carry out the sentence on him tomorrow. The Festival of Days is coming; Irkhiq would be forever disgraced if our temple were impure at Festival-time.” "I see. It’ll be a quick trial, then. I suppose you have the verdict all prepared, and it’s just a simple mat- ter to run through the legal formal- ities.” "Lieutenant Pickering has commit- ted blasphemy,” the alien repeated sonorously. '"Fhe penalty for that is severe. And you Earthmen have agreed to abide by the laws of Leeminorr while you remain here. Surely you won’t raise any objection to the trial?” Norden smiled, but it was an un- friendly, businesslike smile. "The implication’s unwarranted, Ahrunti- nok. We’ve bound ourselves by prec- edent to abide by local law. If a member of this mission has broken the law, we have to let him be tried by Leeminorran courts. Naturally we’re interested in getting a fair trial for our man.” "He will have justice,” Ahrunti- nok said. "Good. Come back in five hours and see me again. I’ll have Pickering ready for you by then.” "Excellent.” The aliens went into the ritual farewell-pattern. It took nearly five minutes before they were through flexing muscles, stooping, and pray- ing. Then they turned and left Nor- den’s office. Norden sat perfectly still for per- haps thirty seconds, reviewing in his mind the conversation just concluded. He would have to report this to Earth, of course. Close contact with home base was an essential character- istic of this sort of work. And home base would be inter- ested. After four years, another Mar- kin case had finally come up. The Devall Precedent had taken effect: If (in Earth?na}i breaks a law of the planet where he is stationeef the aliens have the right to request trial by their own legal processes. Colonel John Devall had put that rule on the books back in 2705, on the planet Markin, World 7 of Sys- tem 1106-sub-a. Devall had created a precedent, and it was intrinsic to the nature of the Terran missions to alien worlds that precedents be obeyed. Earth had to appear to the lesser worlds who received Earth’s aid as an unchangeable, perfectly consistent culture — otherwise, there might be large-scale distrust. If an Earth mission on one planet behaved in a certain manner, the other Earth missions would have to conform. It was necessary to present unity of objective as a characteristic of Earthmen. 12 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 14

Devail had set a precedent. And, thought Norden, lue’re stuck ivith it! Strictly speaking, the parallel did not hold true in all respects. The earlier case had been somewhat dif- ferent. According to the tapes of the De- vail case, a member of the Terran mission to Markin — a Lieutenant Paul Leonards, botanist — had been on a Held trip with two other Earth- men. Discovering a secluded grove, they entered it and proceeded to photograph and take samples from any previously unknown botanical specimens. Suddenly they had been challenged by an armed alien; he attacked violently, ignoring a com- mand by Lieutenant Leonards to lower his spear and explain his ac- tions. When he charged with the spear, the lieutenant had been forced to kill him in self-defense. Hut then complications began when the Earthmen returned to their base. Protesting aliens declared Leon- ards had entered a sacred grove and had slain the guardian. They de- manded the right to try the Earthman by an ecclesiastical court. It was then that Colonel Devail had made his famous decision. Devail had been an anthropologist, with a competent though undistinguished service record that had seen him lead missions to eleven worlds. The problem had never come up before in the great Terran aid pro- gram. The aliens refused to listen to the argument that Leonards had had no way of knowing he was trespassing on sacred ground, and that he had killed the guardian only in self-defense. Intent had no place in Markin law; only the sheer prag- matic fact of the law-violation itself concerned them, and that had to be requited. In the end Devail had handed Leonards over for trial, as the aliens requested. Devail had considered the matter long and deeply, and had concluded that in the spirit of fair- ness this was the only thing he could do. The Terrans lived among the aliens, and, reasoned Devail, they should therefore be bound by their laws. Luckily for him, the lieutenant had escaped serious harm. It had been trial by ordeal, and they had thrown him in a lake and left him to the mercies of two of the dead man’s brothers. But he outswam them, reached safety, and thus was declared not guilty. Norden was familiar with the case. It was classic in the Corps’ annals. He had pondered its implica- tions, second-guessed Colonel De- vail, thought the thing through with dogged detailed analysis. And now his turn had come. Lieu- tenant Pickering of his staff had blasphemed — not accidentally, as had the man on Markin, but knowingly. The aliens were aware of the Mar- kin precedent. They were anxious to try an Earthman. Well, thought Norden, they’ll get their tvish. Pickering is theirs to try. Let them hold ns to the Devail Precedent — but they may not like it! PKECEDENT 13

Page 15

Norden made some log notations, finishing off his weather report and adding three or four references to general mission progress, on the several fronts of survey work, anthro- pological research, and technological- medical aid. Each mission had a threefold job, and was staffed to handle it. It carried out an exhaustive botanical and zoological survey of the planet, taking as many specimens as possible; it performed cultural re- search among the inhabitants; and —on those worlds where the natives would permit it — Terran experts offered assistance in raising living standards. At the same time, of course, an assessment of the planet’s military value was made. It was a precaution- ary move. The galaxy was a near- infinite place; there was no telling when or from where a hostile and dangerous race might arrive, and it helped to have a network of friendly allies spread out across thousands of light-years. Earth had never run across a world that was its equal technologically or philosophically; whether it was a matter of earlier evolution or luck along the way was impossible to determine, but the fact was undeni- able that of the several thousand in- habited worlds visited by the survey teams in the four centuries since the development of interstellar travel, not one had reached a cultural level on a plane with Earth’s. An aid program, then, was a logi- cal necessity. But it had to be han- dled with tact; sheer altruism was a 14 difficult concept to put across, at times. Norden finished his morning’s work and restored the log to its file. Then, closing down the office equip- ment, he headed out into the chill Leeminorran afternoon. A bitter wind was blowing, tossing swept-up gusts of snow about in the com- pound. Harsh dark clouds scudded overhead, and far off near the moun- tain tops, inches above the horizon, Norden saw the bleak unwarm brightness of Leeminorr’s unfriendly sun. This was a hard, infertile world. The Leeminorrans were sturdy people who gloried in exposing their bodies to the elements, whose philosophy was based on conflict and whose lives were battle-studded and tough. It was not a mechanically advanced world; communication was poor, transportation crude though adequate. The Leeminorrans recognized the need for the aid the Terrans offered, but they fought hard to maintain their nobility and aloofness even while receiving help. An important part of Norden’s job was to see to it that the Terran assistance program never began to seem to the Leeminor- rans like a distribution of largess. He turned off at the communica- tions center. Norden nodded to the signal officer and said, "Has that sub- radio solidophone contact with Earth come through yet?” "Just about to call you, sir. Director Thornton’s waiting to see you.” "Thanks,” Norden replied curtly, ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 16

and stepped into the green lambency of the solido field. Director Thornton sat back of a dark-grained bare desk ornamented in the Kauolanii tradition. He was a lean man, well along in years, thin- lipped, tight-faced, with a dry weather-hewn look about him. He and Norden knew each other well. Norden had served under him on his own break-in cruise, long be- fore Thornton had gone to Rio de Janeiro to take over the all-important post as Director of the Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs. Now Hiornton sat poised, unspeaking, un- .smiling, waiting to hear what Norden had to say to him. The colonel said, "It happened, finally. Another Devall affair." Thornton smiled emotionlessly. "I had been wondering how long it would take. It’s so easy to trespass on territory whose laws we hardly understand. The surprising thing is that this is only the second time." "The aliens were here to see me not long ago. Naturally they demand the same privilege Devall granted on Markin. It’s another blasphemy case.” "Of course," Thornton said. "The Leeminorrans are at the same general culture-level as the Marks, At that stage they’re likely to be highly blas- phemy-conscious. When’s the trial "Tomorrow, probably. They’ll be back to get the man soon. A full re- port’s on its way to you via autotype. It ought to reach you soon.” Thornton nodded. "What action have you taken, colonel?” "The man will be handed over for trial — naturally. I don’t feel called on to deviate from the Devall Prece- dent. The aliens expect that kind of treatment." "Naturally.” "There may be some outcry on Earth, sir. I’d like to request that you refrain from announcing any- thing about the trial until its con- clusion.” Director Thornton looked doubt- ful. "It’s not our usual policy to suppress news, colonel. Is there some special reason for this request?” "There is,” Norden replied. "I’d prefer to wait until I have more def- inite data on the problem here.” He stared levelly at Thornton and added, "In the hope of preventing future Devall Precedents. My actions will bind all my successors. I’d like to simplify things for them — and help the Leeminorrans at the same time.” Thornton ran his thin fingers along the elegantly-carved rim of his desk a moment or two, considering Norden’s request. A smile spread slowly over his features. "Very well, colonel. Request granted. I’ll maintain a news-curtain over the Leeminorran situation until hearing from you again. Report to me when the trial’s over, of course.” "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Norden stepped back out of the fading field. The last he saw of Di- rector Thornton before the solido- phone pattern shattered was the di- rector’s face, smiling encouragingly. It was not often that Thornton smiled. PRECEDENT 15

Page 17

Norden pulled his jumper tight around him and stepped out into the chilly wind. Thornton had understood him— the smile said as much. Now it was Norden’s turn to smile. An organization such as the Corps operated on precedent. Precedents, then, were not to be broken lightly. But, thought Norden, there was nothing in the rules against bendmg them a little. The delegation from Irkhiq was back at sundown, only this time there were six of them. Ahmntinok led the way, striding magnificently into the compound wearing a blazing red cloak twined with vruuk-feathers and tinged with gold; behind him came the two representatives of the priest- hood, the two delegates from the secular government, and a sixth fig- ure, gaunt and bowed. Watching from the window of his office as the group entered the compound, Norden turned his atten- tion particularly to this sixth man. He was old, much older than any of the other five, and yet he still had majesty in his stride even though his shoulders now sloped in and downward, even though his skin had lost the radiant gleam of young warriorhood. He wore rich robes, draped thick- ly over his angular body — but his arms and legs were bare, in Leemi- norran fashion, and on them Norden could see the welts and scars of a lifetime of combat. He walked slow- 16 ly, with a steady tread, and held himself proudly erect. This one was a man, once, Norden thought. He knei'J how to fight. The men were gathering around the compound, watching the slow procession with interest. Norden saw Gomez, the anthropologist in charge, surreptitiously snap a tridim shot of the sextet as it stalked past. The sun was down, and night was coming billowing in; the compound lights were on. Above, the tiny splin- ter of gleaming rock that was Leemi- norr’s sole excuse for a moon was rising across the sky, beginning its retrograde evening’s course. The thermometer just outside the window read fifty-two. Not cold, really, but certainly uninviting enough weather — but there was that old alien, looking seventy or eighty or perhaps ninety, strutting up the hill with arms and legs exposed. These were tough customers, Norden admitted admiringly. The Leeminorrans reached the top of the little rise and gathered there, waiting. Ahruntinok stood facing Norden’s two-story residence, staring in; Norden wondered whether the alien could see him, even in the darkness of twilight. He waited; after a moment he saw Reilly, the chief linguist, hesitantly approach the aliens. They spoke with each other a few moments, with much bowing and gesticulating. Then Reilly detached himself from the group and crossed the clearing to Norden’s place. Norden met him at the door. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 18

"What did they say?” "They’re here to get Pickering,” Reilly explained. "But first they want you to come out and greet them. I told them I’d let you know.” "I’m on my .way,” Norden said. He slipped into his outer jacket and followed the linguist outside. Night was falling rapidly; he felt the cold whipping through him, whistling against his legs. He felt uncomfort- able about greeting the aliens stand- ing up: sitting down, he could more than hold his own, but the difference in height of more than a foot dis- comforted him when they met out- doors. He reached the group and Ahrun- 17 PRECEDENT

Page 19

tinok offered a ritual greeting. Nor- den responded. "Tire trial will be held tomorrow,” Ahruntinok said. "I have brought the judge.” He indicated the old man. "Mahrlek, Grand Judge of Irkhiq. He will pass judgment on the Earthman.” The battle-scarred oldster lowered himself in an elaborate bow; Norden did his best to return it, while the five other aliens glowered sourly at him. "You will give us the man Pick- ering now,” said Ahruntinok when the greeting was concluded. "Tonight he must remain in Irkhiq. Tomorrow -will be the trial.” "Where will the trial be held.^” Norden asked. "Irklriq. Before the temple. The entire village will be present.” Norden was silent for a moment. At length he said, "Of course, other Earthmen can attend the trial Ahruntinok’s face darkened and he said, "There is nothing prohibit- ing their presence. You will not be permitted to interfere with the trial.” "I simply want to watch it,” Nor- den said. The big alien snorted suspiciously, but said nothing. The old judge stepped to the fore and said, "The night grows cold. Give us the pris- oner.” Norden paused again. He wonder- ed how Devall had faced the actual moment of transfer of possession, when the life of a Terran was given over into alien hands. It must have been a bleak moment for the man. 18 He turned and caught sight of Sergeant Heong standing some forty feet away, taking down the proceed- ings with a portable recorder. "Heong, go get Lieutenant Pick- ering,” Norden ordered crisply. "Yes, sir.” Leaving the recorder on, Heong set out across the yard on a jogtrot to- ward the officers’ barracks, where Pickering had been confined pending resolution of the case. Norden saw the sergeant pounding at the door; then he disappeared within, and he returned a moment later followed by the bulky figure of Lieutenant Blair Pickering. The wind swept low over the camp as Pickering appeared. Norden shivered involuntarily; the tempera- ture was beginning its nightly drop. By 2200 or so, the thermometer would be hovering close to zero, and the wind would shriek like a tor- mented demon all the bleak night. Heong and Pickering drew near. The lieutenant was in full uniform, braid and all, though he had left off the ornamental blaster. His boots were polished to mirror intensity; he looked fresh and imposing. For a moment Norden and Pick- ering eyed each other. Pickering was a big m.an, with all of Norden’s swelling muscularity plus the long legs that should have been his; he stood six-four, big enough by Nor- den’s standards but still nearly half a foot shorter than Ahruntinok. His face was dark and shadowy, craggy- featured, with a thick beak of a nose ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 20

mounted slightly askew. He had no scientific specialty; he was one of the base’s military attaches, one of a complement of six. The cold air seemed to transmit an electric crackle of tension. Pick- ering stood stiffly at attention, star- ing up at the group of aliens. Nor- den tried to picture him swaggering into town, cavalierly crossing the threshold of the temple at the very moment the seldom-seen purifying rays of the sun were about to strike it, then contemptuously unpacking and eating his lunch in this most sacred of Leeminorran sanctuaries. It had been an outrage. And Pick- ering looked hardly contrite as he stood in the whistling wind, jaw set tightly, arms stiff at his sides. "At ease, lieutenant,” Norden said. Pickering sullenly let his shoulders slump, his feet slip apart. "Pickering, I’m placing you in the custody of this group of Leeminor- rans. The man in charge is Ahrunti- nok, who was appointed Guardian of the Truth by the Overman of Irkhiq. Roughly speaking, he’s the prosecuting attorney. This gentleman here is Mahrlek, the Grand Judge who’ll try your case.” "Yes, sir,” Pickering said tone- lessly. "The trial will be held tomorrow. I’ll be present at it, lieutenant. I’ve reported details of this case to Di- rector Thornton on Earth.” Norden glanced at the aliens, "He’s in your hands. What time does the trial begin?” "Be there at sunup,” Ahruntinok said, "if you wish to be present.” Sunup — and, for the second time in history, a human’s life lay in the hands of an alien court of law. Norden had risen at sunup every day of his adult life; this was no exception. The thermometer showed twenty-four degrees; dawn was break- ing over the wall of mountains to the distant east. He dressed rapidly. The men who were accompanying him had been picked the night before, their names posted on the camp bulletin board; they were dressed and ready early, and Norden saw them gathered round a jeep in the middle of the compound, waiting for him. A quick splash of depilator took care of his stubbly face. He adjusted his uniform, glanced at his watch, and signaled through the window that he was on his way out. They made the trip virtually in silence, down the winding rutted road that led from the Terran camp to the village of Irkhiq. There were six in the car; Sergeant Heong drove, and along with Norden came an- thropologist Gomez, linguist Reilly, Lieutenant Thomas of the Military Wing staff, and Technical Assistant Lennon. The eight-mile trip ended, final- ly; the jeep turned off into the broad road that led through town to the temple. The streets were deserted all the way — and for good reason, Nor- den saw, as they came within sight PRECEDENT .19

Page 21

of the centrally-located temple; the entire village had come out as ad- vertised to see the trial. Three thou- sand of them, packed tightly together in the square that faced Irkhiq’s temple. The temple was a blocky unpretty building perhaps a hundred feet high, surmounted by an off-center spire. Architecture on Leminorr had never amounted to much. The temple opened out on a wide courtyard, and three great stone steps gave access to the inner areas. It was on those steps that Pickering had allegedly blasphemed and committed sacrilege, and it was on those steps that he was being tried. No one occupied the courtyard behind the steps. The temple was polluted, and until the purification ceremonies were complete no public services could be held there. Pickering stood between two tow- ering Leeminorran guards. He was still in his uniform — it looked as if he’d slept in it, or if he hadn’t been to sleep at all. He needed a shave. His dark craggy face was scowling, but he remained stiffly at attention; his guards were armed with drawn wide-bladed krisses, and they looked willing to use them at any provoca- tion. Both of them topped seven feet. Pickering was oddly dwarfed between them. Fanning out to the accused man’s right and left were two files of bright-clad priests; back of them stood civil police and local function- aries. Three Leeminorrans sat in a little triangle facing Pickering, in 20 an open space some twenty feet square. At the foremost vertex of the triangle sat Mahrlek, the Grand Judge; behind him and to the left was Ahruntinok, Guardian of the Truth, and next to him, resplendent in his robes of state, was the im- mense figure of Him, the nameless priest-king, the village Overman — He who gave up his name when he assumed His exalted rank, lest de- mons learn the true name of the Overman and work harm to the vil- lage. The Earthmen rode their jeep as far as possible tovv'ard the temple; when the assembled crowd grew too thick to allow further progress, Norden said, '"We’d better get out and walk,” and they did. The throng seemed to melt away on both sides of them as they march- ed single-file inward toward the tem- ple steps. Passing between the rows of huge aliens was like walking through a field of corn in late sum- mer; even the women were six- footers and better. They reached the trial area. The trio in the clearing sat quite motion- less; Pickering might have been a statue on the temple steps. Suddenly the Overman rose and spread his arms wide, upward, en- compassing the entire group, it seemed. When he spoke, his voice was a pealing basso that rolled out over their heads and seemed to crash against the mountain wall that ringed in the entire Irkhiq district. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 22

"Children of light Those of darkness Attend here this day To see justice done. That ivhich is wrong Will be made right That which is soiled Will he t7iade clean. Begin.” When the final harsh syllable of the invocation had died away, Ah- runtinok rose. The Guardian of the Truth was nearly the size of the Overman, but he lacked the awesome presence of the other. He said, sim- ply, "The man from beyond the skies has blasphemed. Wo gather here to- day to pass sentence on him, to offer him to justice, to cleanse the temple. The white light of justice will pre- vail.” At Norden’s side. Lieutenant Thomas whispered, "I thought this was supposed to be a trial, sir. The way these guys are acting, Pickering’s guilt’s a matter of common knowl- edge, and they’re here to pass sen- tence!” Norden nodded. 'Tm aware of that, lieutenant. Lceminorran law isn’t necessarily the same as Earth’s. But don’t worry.” I'hc two files of priests burst into an antiphony now, the right-hand side giving forth a melismatic line of verse, the left-hand side picking it up on the fourth accented syllable and repeating it. It was not quite singing, not quite speech — an elabo- rate sprechstimme that continued for nearly five minutes in close harmony. Pickering stood frozen as the waves of sound washed over him from right and left, as if bathing him. The prayer ended. Ahruntinok rose again and recited an account of Pick- ering’s crime, phrasing it in a highly inflected antique manner that was probably the legal dialect on Leemi- norr. Norden followed it, but with difficulty; if he had not already been familiar with the facts in the case, he might have been hard put to understand what the Guardian of the Truth was saying. When Ahruntinok was finished the choir of priests responded with an- other chanted prayer — a monody this time, slow and grave, building to a moody introverted series of minor- key ejaculations. Norden was glad he had ordered Heong to carry a pocket recorder; in all probability this would be their only chance to record this form of Leeminorran musical art. Norden glanced at his watch. It was 0800 — the trial had been pro- ceeding for more than an hour now ■ — and still not a word had been said in Pickering’s defense. The Leemi- norran concept of legal form was surprising, but not overly so. This was a rugged people; an offender caught in the act was due for a rug- ged trial. For a third time Ahruntinok rose. This time the Guardian of the Truth reviewed the nature of Pickering’s offense in five or six terse sentences — for the benefit of the villagers, Norden thought, or perhaps for the betiefu of us — and then stepped for- PRECEDENT 21

Page 23

ward until he was no more than half a dozen feet from the motionless Pickering. "The temple must be purified. The crime of blasphemy must be washed away. The demon must be driven from this man who stands on the temple steps. “Prayers and incense will purify the temple. Prayers and incense will cleanse the village of blasphemy. But only the whip will drive out a demon!’’ The priests echoed Ahruntinok’s last three sentences. It sounded to Norden like nothing so much as a big scene from "Aida” — one where Rhadames stands accused. Obviously the "trial” had been carefully re- hearsed. The villagers took it up next. ’'Prayers and incense will purify the temple! Prayers and incense ivill dealt se the village of blasphemy! But only the tvhip tvill drive out a demon!” Norden glanced at Pickering. The condemned man was utterly emotion- less; his jaw was set, his lips clamp- ed. as he listened to the exulting outcry. Ahruntinok said, "I call now upon the Grand Judge of the village of Irkhiq.” Mahrlek rose. The old man stepped forward into the place vacated by Ahruntinok. He waited — one minute, two, until the tension drew so tight the ground seemed ready to split under the strain. Finally he lifted his hands overhead, holding them rock-steady, 22 and brought them swiftly down. A shout went up from the popu- lace. Mahrlek said, "The temple must be purified. The blasphemy must be driven from the air of the village. He who is possessed by a demon must be cured. Let the demon be ex- orcized. Let the Earthman be driven once around the village boundaries by men with whips.” Norden felt Lieutenant Thomas nudge him sharply. "Sir, that’s mur- der! They’ll whip him to death!” "Quiet,” Norden whispered. Pickering was staring stonily for- ward. There was even the beginning of a smile on his face. Norden held his breath. He had coached Pickering well for this mo- ment; if only they had the ritual down straight — ! In a quiet but authoritative voice Pickering said, "I swear by the sun and the sky, by the mountains and by the snow, that there is no demon in me.” His statement was followed by a sudden moment of shocked silence — broken by an awed gasp of astonish- ment that became thunderous when multiplied by three thousand throats. Ahruntinok was on his feet again, his face purpling; all the Guardian of the Truth’s calm of a moment before had vanished. "Impossible! Impossible! How can he make such an oath? How can a demon-possess- ed one swear by the holy and bless- ed?” The chorus of priests had disin- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 24

tegrated into a knot of argumentative theologians. A hot buzz of comment drifted from them. Norden smiled in relief; it had gone across, then. The paradox had been hurled forth. They were all on their feet now — the Overman, the Grand Judge, Ah- runtinok — staring at Pickering. The guards at Pickering’s sides tightened their grips on their blades, but super- stitiously moved several feet away. The Grand Judge advanced on wobbly legs. He detached the jewel- encrusted cowl he wore round his neck and extended it nape-first to Pickering. "Touch your hands to this and repeat what you just said,’’ Mahrlek ordered in a quavering voice. Pickering smiled bleakly, grasped the Cowl of Justice, and repeated his statement. The old judge ripped the cowl away and hastily tottered back. Utter confusion prevailed in the trial area. Norden had chosen his steps wisely. He picked this moment to come forward, jostling his way through the horde of openmouthed villagers, and entered the cleared area. "As leader of the Earthmen I claim the right to speak on this matter here and now!’’ He glanced in appeal at the Over- man. "Speak,” the Overman said hoarse- ly. "You have given my man trial by your own ways, and you find he is possesscti by a demon. But the oath he has just sworn is one no demon could swear. Is this right?” The trio of Leeminorrans nodded reluctantly. "The court is thus in doubt. Ac- cording to your own law, there is only one way this case may be settled now. I call for that method!” The aliens exchanged glances. "The trial by combat?” Mahrlek asked querulously. "Yes,” Norden said. "The trial by combat, with Pickering fighting the Guardian of the Truth to deter- mine where justice truly lies in this matter!” The Overman laughed — a welling crescendo of ironic amusement. His face dissolved into a hundred wrin- kling laugh-lines; his big body shook. "Your man-— against Ahrunti- nok?” "Yes,” Norden said. The Overman gestured, and Ah- runtinok crossed the clearing to stand facing Pickering. The Guardian of the Truth was six inches taller than the Earthman, and at least a hundred pounds heavier. "This is amusing,” the Overman said. "But justice must be served. Your choice of weapons?” "Bare hands,” Norden said. "Body against body. Fist against fist.” He looked at Pickering, who merely nodded slightly without other- wise indicating reaction. "Body against body,” the Over- man repeated. "Fist against fist.” The Grand Judge said, "It will be the simplest way. The Earthman is mad; this will demonstrate it. And the law calls for such a thing.” For a moment the Overman seem- 23 PRECEDENT

Page 25

ed deep in thought; he stood facing Norden like a slumbering volcano, brooding, eyes turned inward. After a long pause he said, "So be it. Ah- mntinok will combat with the Earth- man Pickering — naked, on the gaming-ground of Mount Zcharlaad. Justice will be served. The defeat of the Earthman will sei;ye to purify and cleanse us. And then we can drive forth the demon who confuses our trial and bedevils us all.” He pointed toward the Guardian of the Truth. "Ahruntinok, is this trial agreeable to you?” Ahruntinok grinned. "I welcome it.” "And to you, Earthman?” Pickering shrugged. 'Til fight him,” he said, without altering his sullen expression. "It is decreed, then.” The Over- man turned to face the throng. "We shall adjourn to the gaming-ground of Mount Zcharlaad!” It took nearly half an hour for the crowd to disperse. Norden, Pickering, the three high Leeminorrans, and the five other Earthmen, remained in a loose grouping around the temple steps, waiting for the mob to break up. Little was said. The aliens ex- changed a few puzzled whispers, but Norden was unable to hear what they were saying. He could bet on it, though: they were wondering how Pickering had been able to confound their theology so thoroughly. Ob- viously he was demon-possessed, or else he would never have committed 24 his acts of sacrilege — but yet, no demon could have sworn innocence on the cowl of the Grand Judge. It made no sen.se. Trial by combat was the simplest solution. If Ahruntinok trounced the Earthman, as seemetl most likely, then Pickering was guilty of malicious and deliberate acts against the Leeminorran religion, and the beating he would get from Ah- runtinok would be ample punish- ment. But if Pickering should win — Norden guessed that the Leemi- norrans preferred not to speculate about that possibility. He waited, saying nothing. Pick- ering stood between his two guards, unsmiling. Finally the time to depart came. Norden left Pickering behind in custody of the aliens, since he was still nominally a prisoner of theirs. He led the way back to the jeep and they piled in, Heong behind the wheel. As the turbos thrumincd into life. Lieutenant Thomas, the Military Wing attache, swiveled round to look at Norden, who sat in the back. "Sir?” "What is it, lieutenant?” "Would you mind explaining Ihc facets of this trial to me? I’m afraid I got lost six or seven turns back, when the prosecuting attorney was still yowling for Pickering’s scalp. How come you stepped in and de- manded this trial by combat thing?” The lieutenant was red-faced; he was acutely conscious, evidently, that he was the only man in the jeep without formal scientific training, and ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 26

it was rough on him to sit there with his ignorance showing. Norden said, "Would you have preferred it if I’d kept quiet and let them whip Pickering to death?” "No, sir . . . but . . . sir, it’s just as bad this way ! That alien must be six foot ten, six-eleven, and close to four hundred pounds. It’ll be slaughter, sir!” "You think so? Watch, then,” Norden said, grinning. "Pickering’s no midget at six-four.” "He is, next to that boy, sir!” "You watch, lieutenant. I think I know what I’m doing.” There wasn’t much that could be said after that. Norden sat quietly, staring through the jeep window at tire steadily more forbidding land- scape; they were rising through some rocky country now, following the broad back of a large Leeminorran vehicle bulging with townspeople. The Leeminorrans still used internal- combustion engines for their cars; it made an unholy racket. They wound upward along the mountain path; up here, the ground was covered with a thick layer of snow, and a vicious wind whined down from the sawtooth crests of the upjutting unforested mountains. It was hard to believe that this was Leeminorran summer; in the winter, in this continent, temperatures rarely rose above freezing, and in the mountains the thermometer stayed between zero and eighty or ninety below for nine months of the year . . . getting as "warm” as freezing for a brief hot spell in midsummer. PRECEDENT 25

Page 27

Norden reviewed the steps of the trial in his mind. His report would need to be done with care; it was going to be a document given to every Corps trainee to read^ along with Colonel Devall’s report that pre- ceded it. The reports would make an interesting pair side by side, he thought. The Norden Precedent. He liked the sound of that. He smiled. There would be plenty of theological discussing going on tonight in the village of Irkhiq, he thought. Plenty. In fact, it was going to take more than one evening to get everything straightened around, theologically. The Leeminorrans might even need a brand-new theology before Norden got through with them. The gaming-ground of Mount Zcharlaad was a broad plateaulike area set in an outstretched arm of the sprawling mountain, at an elevation of perhaps five thousand feet. Nor- den was grateful for that; much higher up, it might have been too rough on Pickering. A natural amphitheater ringed the site, a shell-like rise in the rock into which seats had been hewn. Now, the villagers filed slowly into the seats. A layer of snow covered the gaming-ground itself, and a bitter wind sliced downward from the higher reaches of the mountain chain. Pickering did not look worried. He stamped his feet a few times against the cold, but otherwise seem- ed calm, almost too calm. It might 26 have been a fatalistic numbness, Norden thought. Ahruntinok looked elated. The big alien had already stripped down to his fighting costume — a pair of woven briefs and sandallike buskins — and was loosening up, flexing his huge muscles, swaggering around the outside of the ring, clenching and unclenching his fists. The cold hard- ly bothered him. His dull-blue skin was glowing healthily, and his fea- tures were animated. Norden won- dered how many times Ahruntinok had fought here in the gaming- grounds; not a few, he supposed. The Grand Judge and the Over- man stood silently to Norden’s side. Their faces revealed little of any thought-patterns behind them. "When does it start?” Norden asked finally. "Soon,” the Grand Judge said. He pointed to the tiny dot that was the sun, hovering just above the crests of the mountains, and said, "The time is not yet right. A few mo- ments more. A few moments more.” Norden walked over to Pickering. "All set, lieutenant? Feeling all right?” "Fine, sir.” "The cold won’t bother you, now?” "It may slow me up a little. I’m not worried about it, sir. I can manage.” "I hope so,” Norden said. He glanced up at the big man — who seemed so strangely dwarfed by the towering Leeminorrans — and grin- ned. "Good luck, Pickering.” ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 28

"Thanks, sir.’’ The Grand Judge signaled. It was time for the bout to begin. He stepped forward. In a surpris- ingly ringing voice, old Mahrlek an- nounced, "Justice now will be served. Ahruntinok, Guardian of the Truth, will meet in combat the Earthman Pickering.’’ Priests stationed in the first row of seats set up a wailing ululation of a chant. Ahruntinok’ s cheerleaders, no doubt, Norden thought. Pickering stripped down to fight- ing costume — shorts and boots, noth- ing else. No tape on the fists, no gloves, no masks. Just two naked men against each other, in forty- degree weatlier, with no holds barred. Justice will be served here today. The priestly chanting reached a wild climax, tenors and basses shrieking in utter atonal discordancy on the final three notes. Then the gaming-grounds became very silent. "Justice will be served,’’ said the Grand Judge in solemn, sententious tones. 'The fighters stepped forward. Ahruntinok gleamed with oil; his hairless body shone in the faint sun- light, and his muscles stood out against his sleek skin in sharp relief. He was grinning, showing his mouthful of spadeshaped teeth; he stepped toward the center of the gaming area with a wide rolling walk, like a sailor heading downship in a fierce storm. Pickering was in the center al- ready, and waiting, poised. His un- anointed body had little of Ahrun- tinok’s glamor; he looked too pale, too hairy, too squat and clumsy next to the Guardian of the Truth. Ahrun- tinok moved with the grace of a well-oiled killing machine; Pickering, with the awkward ponderous mo- tions of an ancient tank. The only sound was the whistling of the wind. Ahruntinok broke the silence with three quick grunted guttural syllables — a challenge perhaps, or an invoca- tion, a prayer. Pickering remained silent. Arms wide, Ahruntinok moved forward. Norden saw the strategy at once. Ahruntinok intended to make the most efficient use of his half-foot advantage in size and reach, and of his great weight. He was going to hug Pickering to him, draw the Earthman into a bearlike grip and squeeze him into unconsciousness or death. Ahruntinok’s red-rimmed eyes flashed savagely. He advanced toward Pickering, reaching out to gather the Earthman in. But Pickering had other ideas. He danced forward into the spreading hoop of Ahruntinok’s arms and smashed a fist upward at the square chin of the Guardian of the Truth; then he spun away, quickly, slipping beneath the big alien’s guard. Ahruntinok bellowed in anger and whirled on Pickering. A second time the Earthman tiptoed forward and landed a punch, skipping away un- PEECEDENT 27

Page 29

touched. Murmurs began to pass through the watching crowd. The alien had shown no ill effects as a result of Pickering’s two punches, but he was angry. He thun- dered toward the Earthman now, arms flailing, huge fists whistling through the air. Pickering easily avoided one wild swing that would have been fatal had it landed, and cracked his left fist into Ahruntinok’s exposed belly. A gust of air escaped from the alien’s mouth. Ahruntinok howled. The warrior’s nobility was gone, now; he reached out desperately with clawed finger- tips and managed to scratch six red lines down Pickering’s shoulder — but at the same time the Earthman casually slapped an open-handed blow at Ahruntinok's mouthy and a dribble of red blood trickled forth, running down the alien’s chin. Now the crowd was silent again — frightened silent. Pickering exhaled a cloud of white fog and called out to the alien. Ahruntinok whirled; Pickering hit him with a sharp left to the heart, followed with a savagely aimed right smash that sent Ahruntinok’s head snapping back. Norden, at the sidelines, felt a sudden burst of exultation. The bigger they are, he thought — Ahruntinok was utterly disorgan- ized. He had never been able to get his superb body unhooked and ready for action; Pickering now seemed all about him, lashing him with blows from every direction at once. Ah- runtinok was growling angrily, send- 28 ing panicky swipes in hopes of fell- ing Pickering with a sudden blow, but he was unable to land any. Pickering was everywhere. The six-inch height differential mattered very little now. One of Ahruntinok’s eyes was swelling shut, now; the other was bruised. The alien’s thin lips were split. Sweat washed down his massive shoulders and back, mixed with blood. Ahruntinok was a wrestler, and a fine one. But the first rule of wres- tling is that you have to get hold of your man before you can do any damage to him. And Pickering moved too quickly for that. Ahruntinok was turning in circles, howling like a blinded Polyphemus, imploring Pickering to come within range of his crushing grip. Pickering did — just long enough to detonate an uprising right off the point of Ahruntinok’s chin. The giant wob- bled; Pickering lifted another from the floor and Ahruntinok staggered forward, still conscious, blood and spittle foaming from his mouth. Norden glanced at the Overman. Ele looked sick. Ahruntinok dropped wearily to his knees and straggled toward Pick- ering, groping for him. Pickering ran forward and slapped Ahrunti- nok twice, fast, to keep him con- scious a while longer. The alien rocked and tried to take his feet again; Pickering grabbed one of Ah- runtinok’s arms and whipped it up suddenly behind the giant’s back. Norden wondered if they’d in- vented the half nelson on Leemi- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 30

norr. If they hadn’t, they were in for an enlightening now. With his free arm Ahruntinok vainly tried to catch hold of Pick- ering, who stood just behind him. Pickering proved uncatchable. He bent Ahruntinok's arm higher, higher, holding it now in an un- breakable grip. Norden had never heard three thousand more silent people in his life. Pickering was grinning savdgely now. Norden saw that he had ab- sorbed a few bruises in the contest himself; one lip was puffy, and his left ear was swollen. But generally he seemed in good shape. He yanked Ahruntinok’s arm up. The giant grunted. A single loud crack ! resounded over the gaming-grounds. Pickering released Ahruntinok’s suddenly limp arm and stood back as the giant writhed in pain, knotting his huge legs as if wishing he had Pickering’s neck imprisoned between his tightening thighs. Pickering grasped Ahruntinok’s other arm and glanced questioningly at Norden. Norden shook his head. "No,” he said in English. "Enough’s enough. Don’t break the other one.” Pickering looked disappointed, but he let Ahruntinok’s arm drop, and stepped back. The giant lay huddled face down on the hard snow, still conscious but not moving. His great body was racked by three loud, bitter, bewildered sobs. He made no attempt to rise. . . . The harder they fall, Norden thought. Pickering was coming off the battlefield now. He was gasping hard for breath, and his skin was blue and goose-pimpled from the cold, but he was traveling under his own steam without trouble. He crossed the field, drew near the Over- man and the Grand Judge, and sank to the ground at their feet. Kneeling, he looked up at the Overman and repeated the words Norden had taught him. "My lord, I ask forgiveness for what I’ve done. The guilt of blas- phemy lies on me still. Will you deign to punish me?” If Pickering had struck him in the face, the Overman could not have looked more astonished. Mouth open, he stared from the huddled figure of Ahruntinok lying alone in the center of the gaming-ground to the kneeling figure of Pickering. In a hesitant, surprisingly small voice he said, "Punish you? The trial is over, and you have won. How can we punish you now?” "I insist, my lord. I blasphemed at your temple.” Norden forced back a grin at the Overman’s discomfiture. The priest- king was looking at the Grand Judge as if expecting some answer, some way out of this dilemma; how could Pickering have committed blasphemy if the result of the trial-by-combat showed clearly he was innocent? There had been a hundred witnesses to his act. How — ? PEECEDENT 29

Page 31

The Grand Judge, of course, had no answer. Norden stepped forward. It was not part of his plan to humil- iate the Overman before all his village. He said, "The man is clearly ifl- nocent by your law. I ask your per- mission to take him back, to settle his case among ourselves. May we have him 2 Will you release him from your custody?’’ Something similar to horror passed over the Overman’s face. "Yes," he said, much too quickly. "The man’s yours. The matter’s ended, so far as we’re concerned. Take him! Take him!” But the matter, of course, was far from ended so far as the Leeminor- rans were concerned. Their troubles, Norden thought, were just begin- ning. He stared at the solidophoned figure of Director Thornton and said, "I did the same thing Devall did, sir. One of my men committed a crime against their laws, they came to me to demand him for trial, and I handed him over to them. You have to admit I was perfectly fair-minded about it.” "You v/ere,” Thornton chuckled. "Clean and aboveboard in the dirtiest way possible.” "I object! Just because I hand- picked my criminal, and just because he deliherately committed blasphemy in the most open and casual manner, and just because I knew that Leemi- norran law provided recourse to trial by combat if the accused man re- quested it — ” "... And just because your man Pickering just happened to be one of Earth’s most murderous profes- sional boxers,” Thornton added — "Well? The job got done, didn’t it?” Norden demanded. "It did indeed. And very well, too, according to your report. There’ll be a commendation for you, Norden. And v/hen you’re through with Lee- minorr, I’ll try to find a, less wintry world for your next stop. Seems to me you’ve had a succession of rough assignments.” "I like it that way, sir,” Norden said quietly. "But—” "Sir?” That was all he needed to say. Later, as he sat alone in his room filling out the routine report on the weather for that day, he paused to think over what he had done. He felt pretty good about it. He had come to Leeminorr with a pur- pose, and he had fulfilled that pur- pose. He scribbled busily away. Vijth September 2709- Colonel Lome Nor- den reporting. Eighteenth day of our stay on Leeminorr, World 3 of Sys- tem 2279-sub-c. Morning temperature 23 at 0700— The Corps, he thought, had been saddled by the Devall Precedent. When an Earthman commits a crime on an alien world where he’s part of a study team, he’s responsible to the inhabitants of that world. Devall had been an intelligent 30 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 32

man, but a fuzzy thinker. His line of reasoning was down in his report: 1 believed 1 should treat the aliens as equals, and the best ivay to prove this equality to them ivas to subject ourselves to their legal code. That was all well and good, thought Norden, as he continued working. There was only one minor hitch: the aliens were not equal. It was sloppy-minded to insist that they were. The Markins had used trial by or- deal; the Leeminorrans, trial by com- bat. Both good systems, in their day — but not the best. Their results had little to do with actual justice, much as their proponents thought they did. Norden had fought a double bat- tle, and had won both. He had effectively smashed the Devall Prec- edent, and he had taught the Lee- minorrans a few things about justice. Simple. Just see to it that your man commits a flagrant abuse of the law in the presence of a few hundred witnesses — and then, when they take him away for trial, have him prove his undeniable innocence by their laws. Then let them square the prob- lem of how a man can so obviously commit blasphemy and still get away with it at trial. That ought to shake a couple of their concepts, Norden thought. It ouglit to show them a thing or two about the effectiveness of trial by combat. And they’ll think twice be- fore they hail an Earthman up before their courts again. He finished writing, closed up, and filed away the log. He walked to the window. Night had fallen; the splinter of moon was overhead, and a light snow was dropping through the cold darkness. Devall’s mistake had been to treat his bunch of aliens as if they were equals, when they really weren’t . . . not yet. Norden had shown the Lee- minorrans the flaw in the Devall Precedent: if you want to be treated like equals, you have to face the con- sequences. And the consequences, in this case, proved pretty ugly for poor Ahruntinok. But he’d recover, and the Leemi- norrans would learn something from the incident. Norden smiled. He liked the sound of it: Norden’s Precedent. If aliens demand equality with Earthmen, give ’em all the equality they can stand, and then some morel Give it to ’em till it hurts 1 That would hold as a good rule of thumb, Norden thought. Until the race came along that really deserved equality, and that was a different matter. He snapped off the light and head- ed out into the snow, trotting across the compound to the medical build- ing. The docs were fixing up Pick- ering, taking the bruises out of him and removing the dent a wild swipe had put in his nose. Pickering had gone through a lot lately, Norden thought. Tlie colonel wanted to con- gratulate him for a good job, well done. PRECEDENT THE END SI

Page 33

TRUCE... lUustrcted by Frees .by BOOMERANG It would put quite a severe limitation on the use of weapons if you were forced to limit yourself to techniques you could take, as well as dish out. . . . BY CHRISTOPHER ANVIL Truce Supervisor B. H. Perkins lay hugging the dust as the barrage thundered overhead. The ground trembled beneath him. There was a taste of grit in his mouth and a bone- weariness in his limbs. From some- where in the distance, a thin cheer reached him. Perkins raised his head and looked out from behind the shattered stub of a tree. 32 The glare on the sandy earth was blinding, but he saw it. A long column of sand-colored trucks was rumbling forward half-a-mile away. Farther off he could see low clouds of dust churned up by advancing tanks. Perkins turned his head and saw young Assistant Truce Supervisor Macklin studying the moving column ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 34

with an expression of bitterness. Perkins glanced around. Their jeep was fifteen feet away, where they’d left it when the bombardment opened up. Then the shells had dropped practically down their necks. Now the barrage had lifted and moved forward. Perkins still had his life, if not his truce. Macklin came to his feet and brushed himself off. "Now what do we do, sir?” he said angrily. "Should we go back and plead with them to take back their bombardment? Or do we go sit in the outer office and beg to be let in for an explanation?” "That,” said Perkins, "is all up to the Secretary General.” He got in the jeep. Macklin sat down behind the wheel. They started back toward their headquarters. On the way, they passed three columns of trucks loaded with troops. They were jeered twice, cheered ironically once. Passing the last column, a spray of bullets went over their heads. Macklin stared straight ahead. "To do this job right,” he said, "a man needs armored skin and the disposi- tion of an angel.” Perkins grunted noncommittally. The trouble, he kept telling him.self, was that he had nothing to offer but the status quo, and no one here wanted the status quo. Call the com- batants A and B. Even assuming the two sides could be content with their present borders, how did A know that B would be peaceful five years from now? And how did B know that A would be peaceful twenty years from now? The status quo in- volved mutual distrust, and that pro- longed mutual distrust was what neither side could stand. Neither wanted to live with a bomb at his ear, ticking now loud, now soft, now with a threatening boom and rattle, so neither could ever settle down and look ahead with any assurance. Perkins’ cheeks puffed out as he exhaled sharply. He just didn’t see how it could ever be done. To guar- antee peace, he needed to intimidate both sides, so that each knew the other would hesitate long before making trouble. And to do that prop- erly, he needed the armed might of one or the other of the two great world powers. Yet, if either of those two powers moved in here, the other would be uneasy to the point where Perkins would need a seventy-two hour day just to keep them at peace. Macklin leaned forward and squinted as the headquarters caravan came into view. Angrily, he said, "As if we didn’t have trouble enough already, there’s that So-and-So again.” Perkins shifted his position in the bouncing jeep. '"Who?” "I don’t know. A correspondent, probably. Some unprepossessing- looking individual who thinks he has the answer to everything and wants to see you.” Perkins scowled. "He’s been here before?” "Several times. I’ve given orders that he’s to be kept out, but he gets in, somehow.” Perkins leaned forward. As they TKUCE BY BOOMERANG 33

Page 35

came closer, he could make out a slight man sitting sidewise in a jeep, with a tarpaulin-covered trailer hook- ed on behind. Perkins cleared his throat. "I’m going to be busy for the next few hours, as you know. But I want you to send that man in to me at three-thirty.” "Sir, at best he’s a correspondent with a bad case of swollen head. At worst, he’s a crank.” "You said he thinks he has the answer to everything?” "Oh, he thinks so.” "Then he’s a straw,” said Perkins, "and in the position we’re in, we can’t be above grasping at straws.” The day advanced discouragingly. It got hotter and dustier. The rum- bling thunder in the distance grew loud and fell away, but never ceased. Heavy bombers roared low overhead. The reports coming in added to the proof that the attack wasn’t cumula- tive, built up out of exasperations that burst loose here and there and spread from place-to-place. It was a fully co-ordinated offensive; the only discordant note, that set Perkins back in his chair, was a series of unex- pected reports from a supposedly quiet sector of the boundary. Here, the other side had attacked at nearly the same moment, and with such force and effect that this, too, was clearly planned in advance. Now the question was, who was the aggressor ? If A and B stand glaring at each other, growling mutual threats and insults, then A hits B on the jaw at 34 the same instant B punches A in the stomach, who started it? Perkins groaned and looked up to see Macklin, his face pale and gloomy, at the door. "It’s three-thirty, sir,” said Mack- lin. Perkins frowned, then remem- bered. "Send him in,” he said. Macklin stepped outside. A thin, gray-haired man came in and looked at Perkins. After a mo- ment, he said, "I got some stuff for you.” Perkins scowled. The stranger said, "You want to end the war, don’t you?” "Of course,” said Perkins, "but — ” "You’d better give me a hand. Some of it’s pretty heavy.” Perkins hesitated, then got up and followed his guest outside. It took twenty minutes to bring in the crates and boxes from the trailer. When they were all stacked up in Perkins’ office, the stranger said, "O.K., now leave me alone. I got to put this stuff together.” Perkins, perspiring freely, stood outside the door. "Sir,” said Macklin, looking on, "I’m not sure I understand this at all. Why don’t we just have this fel- low escorted back to his starting place?” Perkins looked at Macklin with a faint smile. "There’s a great deal of wisdom in old sayings, my boy.” "Sir?” "Beggars can’t be choosers. Posi- tion is everything in life. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 36

A drowning man grasps at straws.” Macklin looked a little dazed. ”. . . All containing a great deal of truth,” Perkins went on. "Our purpose here was to prevent fighting. We had a certain moral capital to expend in that direction. Ideally, we would have added to that capital, so that we would have been living, as it were, on the interest. The situa- tion was such that we couldn’t do it. We had to live on the principal. Now the principal is very nearly all consumed. I won’t say that we’re beggars, Macklin, but in this respect we’re very close to it. Our position is precarious. Now this gentleman comes to us and asserts that he has the solution. Pie approaches the problem as a repairman might ap- proach a television receiver that has gone out of order.” "The man’s a lunatic,” said Mack- lin. "Quite possible,” said Perkins sadly. "But he’s a bird in the hand. And at least he’s a sign that we have some moral capital left. Pie came to HS, you see.” Macklin frowned and started to speak. Overhead, a jet roared, its heavy rumble making them both glance up apprehensively, then look at each other. The door of Perkins’ office opened. "O.K.,” said the slight, gray-haired visitor. "It’s ready. You can come in now. No,” he waved Macklin back. "Just you.” Perkins came in. Macklin stepped back angrily. TRUCE BY BOOMERANG Perkins closed the door, then turned around. At first glance, Perkins was in- clined to agree with Macklin that the man was a lunatic. There seemed to be two large tele- vision sets face-to-face across the room. There were a number of smaller sets with blank faces ranked on Perkins’ desk and chair and set on the floor nearby. The gray-haired man looked at the apparatus gloomily. "Eight hundred and forty-two tests it took us to find out the thing isn’t commercially fea- sible,” he said. "What is this.?” Perkins demand- ed. The man looked at him. "You’ve heard of the telephone?” he said sourly. "Of course,” said Perkins scowl- ing. "Well,” said his guest, "some bright guy got the idea if we could send a voice over the wires, we could do it through empty space, using a carrier wave instead of a wire.” "Radio,” frowned Perkins. "Yeah. Radio. It worked. It turned into big business. And some guy sent printmg over wires — teletype. And pictures — telephoto. And then, the idea was, send pictures without wires. Television. What a big busi- ness that turned into.” Pie looked sourly at the assemblage in the room. "It was only natural somebody would think of this.” "I don’t doubt it,” said Perkins. 35

Page 37

"That’s all very true. But what is this?" "Matter transceiver,” said his guest sourly. "Matter transceiver?" "That’s right. Now, let me show you. London and New York are practically the same height above the center of the earth. No work has to be done against gravity to raise a package from New York to London. If a frictionless surface stretched from one to the other we could give a hard push at one end, the package would slide across the Atlantic and deliver up the hard push when it hit London on the other side.” Perkins goggled. "See here — ” His guest waved him silent. "Nearly all the trouble getting across the Atlantic comes from what amounts to so much friction. Shov- ing a ship through water is work. Millions of tons of water move to the right and the left and then back again as the ship goes by. You’ve got a track of turbulence and waste thousands of miles long. With an airplane, you’ve got the added work of holding the plane up against gravity all that time. You see what I mean? It’s wasteful." "Yes," said Perkins. "I’ll concede that. But what does that have to do with us, here?” Perkins’ thin, gray-haired visitor looked sourly at the apparatus. "The idea was to transmit electromagneti- cally. 'There’s no friction in radio waves,’ as the boys used to say." He looked sharply at Perkins. "Do you think you could yell loud enough 36 to be heard across the Atlantic?” "Certainly not,” said Perkins, startled. "But you could yell into a micro- phone, have the pattern of your voice carried across the Atlantic as a radio wave, and your yell will come out a receiver on the other side before it could travel across the room under its own power. All right, the idea was to do the same thing with ob- jects.” He grew a little excited. "Think of the possibilities! The market would be world-wide. Ship- ping delays and spoilage cut to almost nothing.” The gloom returned to his face. Perkins, studying him with a frown, glanced at the apparatus curi- ously. "Hm-m-m,” he said. He look- ed back at his guest. "Didn’t it work?” "Oh, after a fashion. We sent a block of lead two hundred miles and back and thought we had it licked. All we had to do was iron out the bugs. While we were doing that, someone even figured out a way to send and receive from the same in- strument, to anywhere else in range. Meanwhile, we had refined the ap- paratus, and re-refined it, and refined it again, and it finally dawned on us that the bugs were built-in.” He walked over to the nearest set and snapped it on. Perkins blinked. The desert stared out of the screen, bright and hot. Miniature tanks were grinding forward in a haze of dust and smoke. Their guns flared, and ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 38

the roar of the explosions came as from a distance into the room. The picture was clear and detailed, and did not flicker at all. It was like looking through a hole into the desert itself. "Incredible,” said Perkins. "Oh, it’s great,” saiil his guest sourly. "Now just try and smell that dust and smoke.” He adjusted the set till the roar was deafening, and the muzzle of a hammering gun seemed less than ten feet away. Tlicn he quickly readjusted it to a distant view, wiped his forehead, and looked up. "Smell anything?” "I — No. I couldn’t be sure, but I don’t think so. The illusion was very convincing, other than that.” "Sure. It looks good. It sounds good. But there’s a skin effect. Plere. Put your hand in.” "I’ll break the screen.” "No, you won’t.” Perkins scowled, and reached cau- tiously toward the face of the receiv- er. Where he expected to touch the screen, he felt nothing but warmth. Frowning, he reached farther'. There was a faint elastic resistance, and he pressed carefully against it. His arm went farther and farther into the set, feeling the warmth and the sun- light, and a sensation like that of a hand pressed into the side of a large, partially inflated balloon. Now, he expected to feel the back of the set. He moved forward, and suddenly he saw the other side of the set, and his arm wasn’t there. He jumped back. Now his arm was all right. "Look here,” he said. "What hap- pened ?” "You reached through, into that space shown on the 'screen.’ Or almost through. There’s that skin effect I told you about.” "Do you mean, I could reach in there and drop something, and it would land in the desert?” "No. It would be held right next to your hand when you tried to drop it. And when you pulled your hand back, it would fall out in the room here. Tlie skin effect.” "I could feel the heat of the sun plainly.” "Sure, radiations go through all right. But not even anything as small as molecules can get through that skin unless they have high enough velocities and a long enough mean free path. That’s why no odors get through.” "I don’t follow.” "You can’t drop a bullet through. But if you aimed a gun in there, you could shoot it through. You have to break through that skin or what you’re trying to put through comes right back out again.” "Oh, I see. That was why you couldn’t use it for ... ah .. . matter transference?” "That’s half of it. We’d have had to pack the goods in artillery .shells and shoot them through. But there’s something worse yet.” "What’s that?” "There’s a random distortion brought about by the circuit itself. We thought it was defective equip- ment, but we finally traced it back TRUCE EY BOOMERANG 37

Page 39

to the uncertainty principle. There isn’t much we can do about that. If you send a watch through, it may or may not run when you take it out the other side. If you send cheese, it may have a slight off-flavor. A solid piece of lead, say, will change its shape slightly.” He looked closely at Perkins. “Of course, if it’s a bullet, that won’t matter much.” Perkins looked back uneasily. “All this is of interest, no doubt, but what does it have to do with what’s going on outside? And why are you here? Your interests, I judge, are purely mercantile.” His guest smiled and shook his head. "This is how you can end what’s going on outside. As for what Tm doing here — I was sent. Some- body had to get it to you, and we wanted to try it out on the spot.” “But — why?” “To make sure it worked. We want to end this war. Wars can spread, you know. And you can’t do business in a crater.” “Fine, but — Look here. We have no need for this splendid equip- ment.” Perkins gestured toward the machine. “Observation. This would be wonderful for observation. But, we’re beyond that, don’t you see?” “You don’t get it?” said his guest sadly. “I explained to you this is a transceiver.” He walked resignedly to the set, adjusted it slightly, and said, “Go over there where you can’t see it. Back there. Get in back of it.” When Perkins had followed instruc- tions, his guest got down on the floor, reached up cautiously, and moved one of the controls. The thunder of big guns grew loud in the room, was joined by the mutter and cough of engines, and the whine of bullets. There was a burst from a machine gun, then another. Abruptly, a line of holes appearctl in the door and one wall of the room. The thunder and crash receded. Perkins stared at the holes. “I told you,” said his guest. “Skin effect. This is a transceiver. It makes a two-way connection and th(;se bul- lets were coming in the right direc- tion fast enough to get through.” Perkins wiped his forehead. 1 le felt the glimmering of an idea start- ing to form. He glanced at the two big sets face-to-face. His guest nodded approvingly. Perkins thought, what each side needed was positive assurance the other side wouldn’t start anytliing now or several years from now. Assurance that it would be deadly to start anything. In that way, eadi could relax; in time, good feeling might even have a chance to ile\'elop. In time — But how — His guest walked over anil slum around one of the big sets. I le flicked it on and practically the same picture appeared as on the smaller set. He swung it back and locked it in place. “The way it usually works out,” he said, "soldiers don’t, start wars. Dictators start them. Cabinets start them. There’s pressure of some kind and the war comes Tor emotional or 38 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 40

political reasons. War is horrible today. That generally comes home as soon as anyone realizes he might have to fight the war. Then we get an inrush of cold common sense. The idea is, how to bring this common sense to the dictator, or the cabinet, so they don’t see the war as an ab- stract symbol, but as solid bullets that may hit them any time.” He snapped on a second set, and there stood a famous figure studying a map. The famous man moved his hand here, and here. Assistants were rearranging pins on the map as he talked rapidly and earnestly with sub- ordinates. The subordinates nodded. Orders were urgently repeated over phones. On the map, symbols moved, showing the general direction of massive forces approaching the battle area. A complex problem with, many parts to be co-ordinated. On the other set, tanks were burn- ing. A man lying on the ground nearby was turning over in pain, his hand clenched over his face. Perkins glanced from one scene to the other. The calm planner. The soldier in agony. "Horrible,” he said. "Isn’t it? And for the time being, all that violence and suffering is just a symbol to the first man.” "Will this screen project an image directly into that one ? Could we make him see the suffering?” "Yes. We could.” "Still,” said Perkins hesitantly, "people can become immune to the sufferings of others.” "If they’re around it all the time, sure. If it flashes on them suddenly in normal surroundings, then disap- pears and comes back unexpectedly, that’s different. But there’s a more direct way — ” "What’s that?” said Perkins. His guest motioned him to the back of the room. He carefully read- justed the screens and stepped aside. He dove for the floor. The roar of guns and the whine of bullets filled the room. Bright flashes lit the far wall. Abruptly the roar was cut back, and Perkins hurried to look in the screens. In one was the flash of a far-off battle. In the other stood the famous fig- ure, surrounded by frozen aides; the upper section of the wall nearby was pitted with holes sifting dust and plaster onto the floor. Perkins whispered to his guest, "Is this two-way reception now?” "Not on that screen. That’s just receiving. But I can fix it.” "What will he see if you do?” "Just as much as you see of him now, but not framed in a receiving set. It will be as if these two rooms were connected by a hole. Light and sound can pass through. You could even shake hands as if through an invisible rubber sheet.” On the screen, the famous figure was beginning to turn slowly. His aides moved their hands as if on rigid vertical pivots. "Fix it,” whispered Perkins. The famous man’s Adam’s apple moved up and down. He stiffened TRUCE BY BOOMERANG 39

Page 41

his jaw and slowly turned farther around. Perkins looked at him sternly. Their eyes met. "You broke the truce," said Per- kins accusingly. The face opposite him blinked, moved cautiously this way and that, as if trying to get things into focus. "You must,” said Perkins, his eyes narrowed, "withdraw your troops back of the boundary. Precise details will be settled in a radiogram I shall send you shortly. But the fighting must be completely ended by mid- night tonight. Do you understand that?” The well-known figure turned slowly and looked up at the wall behind him. As he watched, a piece of plaster near the ceiling gradually sagged and fell to the floor. Some- thing embedded in the wall glinted dully, and he turned back toward Perkins. Perkins looked at him coldly and unblinkingly and said nothing. At length, the famous man cleared his throat. His voice a hoarse level whisper, he said, "All right. But see that they do the same.” Perkins inclined his head slightly. The scene vanished. Perkins looked at his guest and suddenly felt himself grinning. "And now," he said, "for the other side.” "Right.” His guest was bent over the controls and looked up. "The angle of contact adjustments have to be made carefully. A martyr at this stage could cause trouble.” 40 Perkins nodded and watched him make the adjustments. This time there was speedy agree- ment, a halting flood of questions, and a faint baffled look of craft and determination. When it was over, Perkins said, "Now what?” "Now after I get more equipmcnl, I teach you how to operate this stuff. You can use it as transmitter, receiver, transceiver, and you have to know where to use which. And it’s im- portant to know how to make the settings quickly.” "I wonder if this will all work according to schedule," said Perkins thoughtfully. "'Phere was a faint look of craft on the face of one of our principals.” "Oh, there’s no predicting," said his guest. "In this age, people are likely to react fast to miracles. M.iy- be by tomorrow they’ll have the nominal authority divided up into sixteen buck-passing committees. But in war, the authority lias to center somewhere, and that is where to use this. "At worst, things will get so complicated for them that they’ll have to call off the war or go cr.izy. There are better ways for a man to spend his energy then planning or fighting a war. We just have to make that clearer.” Perkins looked at the apparatus. "What if there’s a raid to capture this?” "With practice, you can use these to put up an effective defense." Me scowled. "But don’t worry, we’re covering you from a distance. We ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 42

have a great many more of these defective apparatuses.” Perkins held out his hand. "I don’t know how to thank you; I’ll do the best I can.” 'Til bring you more of these. You’ve got to get men you can trust to operate them.” 'Til get them.” ''Good. Eventually, we’ll solve our original problem, and that should finally bring men close enough to- gether so we’ll have an end to these troubles.” He turned to leave. ''I wish you luck,” said Perkins. His visitor turned and smiled for the first time. "Oh, we’re making some progress. 'We’ve got a light- duty pilot model of a new design going. It takes too much energy, but it has possibilities.” He opened the door and strode out. Macklin and two others were standing blank-faced outside the door. ''I’m sorry,” said Macklin. "We heard the noise and came running. It was quiet when we got here. Rather than burst in, we looked through these bullet holes. And . . , well ... we just stayed here.” "That’s all right,” said Perkins. "It’ll make it easier for me to brief you.” He stood for a moment watch- ing his guest drive off in the jeep. "I still don’t see,” said Macklin, "how that fellow got in here. I gave strict orders he was to be kept out.” "Well,” said Perkins, turning away, "don’t worry about it. We have work to do. And he has work to do. Perhaps some day he’ll discover how to make his matter transmitter and then possibly everyone will be too busy to make trouble, and we’ll be out of a job.” "No need to worry about that — ” began Macklin, and cut off abruptly. Perkins spun around, frowning. In the distance, the jeep was stop- ped. The hood came down as Perkins watched, and a faint clang reached him. He and Macklin glanced at each other. There was the faint silvery flash of what looked like a brightly polished wire cable tossed into the trailer. The far-off roar of the engine reached them. The jeep started for- ward. Perkins and Macklin blinked their eyes. The jeep was gone. Perkins grabbed Macklin by the arm. "Let’s get to work,” he said. THE END TRUCE BY BOOMERANG 41

Page 43

42 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 44

THE FIRST INCH BY JON STOPA Extracting information from the Universe isn’t easy — but the Universe doesn’t resist. It just doesn’t care. But extracting information from a highly willing alien, who’d rather die than yield . . . that takes finesse. Or a remarkably unkindly sort of imagination. . . . Illustrated by van Dongen So close behind some promontorj lie The huge Leviathans to attend their prey, And give no chace, but swallow in the fry, Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. — Dryden’s Annus Mirabilus Sidney Coleman stepped through the mess-hall door and looked up- ward searching the night sky of Altair-Earth. The air was crisp, not having settled down to Earth norm yet, but the hot coffee filled his body with protective warmth. He held back in the doorway lighting a fat cigar, then moved away from the building and headed for the high rise behind the empty city. Expectations A1CXX7 was due tonight, but the slight cigar glow would make no difference. Only bright lights could be spotted from space. The streets were quiet and de- serted, everyone was preparing for the job that would have to be done tomorrow. Coleman stumbled slight- ly over the imperfectly laid brick walk in the dark moonless street. Thank God, he thought, that he would not have to be there in the morning when the others unseal the starship and explain to the colonists that their efforts had been in vain: THE FIRST INCH 43

Page 45

their long years on the sublight ship had been wasted — in the meantime mankind had invented the macro- light drive. Coleman sighed, crushing the half-smoked cigar under his heel. He was a communications man, and his job was to get in contact with some of the cultures that had shifted during the long journey between the stars. Even when there was no marked cliange he still was needed, many of the ships launched eight and ten hundred years ago spoke a tongue almost forgotten now. But tomorrow he shouldn’t be needed at all, the Expectations MCXXl had been one of the last ships to leave Earth before the drive had been dis- covered. Its culture shouldn’t have deviated far enough to need inter- pretation. His breath grew heavy as his stooped, bulky form labored up the steep incline. The chance that Ex- pectations MCXXl would land here was extremely slight, but Coleman used any excuse handy to come up here and look at the stars — at one time he hadn’t done it alone, but that was another time and another place. He stood looking silently over the dimly lit town that they had just built — a hell of a consolation prize for someone. The stars were quiet little beacons in the grave black sky. Somewhere out there over a thousand ships were slowly crawling just un- der the speed of light through the vast distances between the stars. Some would arrive next year, some 44 in the next century, and nothing could be done about it. Macrolight space was funny in that respect, there was no one-to-one, point-to-point, correspondence be- tween it and normal space. If a line was drawn from star to star in macrolight space, with units of a mile scaled on it, and then translated into normal space, the distance be- tween each mark would be propor- tional to the distance away from each star. Near each star they would seem to touch, while halfway in-between them the points would be light-years apart. And ships halfway between the stars in normal space could not be reached because their slight mass did not warp macrolight space enough to pin point them. When a sixteenth of an inch may mean light- years, navigational instruments can- not be devised delicate enough to make the translation. Absently he started to whistle an ancient bit of music. It had always pained him that the time-viewers could pick up light and not sound. He would have liked to hear more than the present day approximation of the lost music. Suddenly a light appeared just below Altair-Mars, expanding rapid- ly and dropping straight down. Cole- man felt his heart leap — what were the odds that the ship should pick this spot to land? The flare of light grew closer, re- solving into three pencils of flame. One white, the other two pale blue. He felt shock tingle at the base of his spine. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 46

Something was very wrong. The two blue flares were the jets of the lookout ships, and they never revealed themselves unless the in- coming starship was in grave trou- ble. Now the whole party was given away. Lights flared up around the space- port, and the wail of the crash mechs carried through the thin night air to the hilltop. Coleman stood for a moment, then started down, wish- ing that he had brought a torch. He knew he was going to be needed, this was only the second time in fif- teen landings that s.o.p. had been broken. Coleman walked backwards away from the wall, trying to see what was going on. The gates were all locked. Just over the top he could see the slim points of the two look- out ships; but the thing that held his eyes was the starship that hulked between them. The black battered hull curved gently outward until it extended over the other two ships and was roughly three times their height — then it stopped. Dead. I'here was nothing after that. The entire top three-thirds of the sicirship was gone. A thousand different explanations went through his head, but not one of them made any sense. The ship was fully automatic, and could take care of anything from a revolution on shipboard, or a stray planet on its course. He ran over to the nearest gate and banged on it hoping that some- one might hear him above the racket. Slowly giving up in disgust he slumped down and sat leaning against the door. The roar of the machines had a numbing effect, and he felt the long needed sleep taking hold. A click sounded, and the gate opened, sprawling Coleman out on his back. He looked up to see a tall thin man look down in surprise, then reach down and help him up. "Coleman — where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.” "Les,” said Coleman, "I would have been here long ago if you hadn’t locked me out.” Les squinted his beady eyes look- ing hard at Coleman in the glare, then the man shrugged and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the Administration Building. "Couldn’t help that, the port threw it up the minute the crash warnings were sounded.” "What happened?” said Coleman as they hurried across the tarmac towards the heavy walled building. The field was almost empty. "Nobody knows, Wilcox has a bunch of the colonists up in his office now, but we can’t make head nor tail of ’em.” Coleman nodded vigorously as they climbed the steps and went through the thick doors, but didn’t try to say anything over the sudden whine of a hoist as it erected itself alongside the starship. Once inside he said, "Make any progress at all?” THE FIRST INCH 46

Page 47

"I don't know. I’ve been looking for you ever since we got hold of the colonists.” Les stopped and knocked quickly at a door. A heavy voice answered "Yes?” "Les — I’ve got Coleman.” There was a scurrying sound and the door opened, revealing the voice’s owner. Wilcox was a short thin graying’' man, and when he spoke his voice seemed to belong to someone else. It was too heavy. "Come on in. We’ve been wait- ing for you.” Wilcox gestured over his shoulder "I can’t understand more than one word in fifty.” Coleman stepped past Wilcox and looked at the men that Wilcox had pointed to. There were five of them, big hulking hairy looking brutes, all completely naked and caked with grime. Which was not surprising, considering the condition of their ship. They were lucky to have enough of it left to live at all. The biggest one stood up as he approached, and eyed him in a cal- culating manner. Coleman stopped about five feet away, uncertain as to what he should do next. He al- most choked as he got a good whiff of the colonist. The bearded man stood facing him for another moment, then with- out any warning he moved with the speed of a cat striking, and put his arms around Coleman. For a mo- ment Coleman thought he was being attacked, then he realized that the man was not trying to choke him with the beard, but was kissing him. 4G This close up the unwashed smell was too much, and Coleman had to pull himself out of the man’s grasp before he was knocked out. "\Y''hew!” he said as he stood at arm’s length, restraining the colo- nist from coming any closer. "Wil- cox, why didn’t you warn me?” The short thin man came to his side and said, "I didn’t want to prejudice your reactions.” Coleman glanced at Wilcox’s face out of the corner of his eye and caught the smile that threatened to break across his thin lips. "I’ll bet you didn’t.” "Honestly — Wilcox broke off as the colonist started to talk. At first the naked man’s words were meaningless to Coleman, then somewhere a responsive cord was struck, and every third word sounded familiar. Suddenly the language was keyed in and everything dropped into place. "Wilcox, you’d better send up your lookout ships again.” "Why?” "Because, this fellow’s speaking Anglo-Spanish. This ship left Earth about three centuries before the Expectations MCXXl. Wilcox stood looking at Coleman, then turned and went to his desk and gave a few orders. Outside the lights went off, and the crash ma- chinery went silent. Whatever hap- pened, the Expectations MCXXl must not be informed of their presence until it could be broken gently to them. "Now then,” said Wilcox, his ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 48

heavy voice filling the room, "what happened ?” "What . . . happened . . . to . . . your . . ship?" said Coleman, dredging his mind for the unfamil- iar words. The colonist burst out with a flow of words that washed over Coleman’s head and was gone be- fore he could understand half of them. Coleman waved his hand. "Slower . . . please.” The man cocked his head to one side, then started over again em- phasizing each word. Slowly Cole- man understood what happened to the starship. "Well, what did he say?” asked Wilcox after the colonist had turned away from Coleman and sat down. Coleman pulled himself out of his habitual slouch, and for a mo- ment he stood a good three inches taller. "They themselves don’t quite know what happened. They had been on course to a much farther star system, and everything had been quite normal. Suddenly, without warning, a fleet of small ships ap- peared and surrounded their ship. For an hour and twelje minutes nothing happened, even though the colonists tried their best to open communications with the strange ships. Then, when they least expect- ed it, the little ships opened fire.” Coleman walked over to the heavy chair near Wilcox’s desk and slump- ed down into it. "The colonists, of course, had exteriorly mounted weap- ons and fought back. But the at- tackers were more powerful, and didn’t stop until the whole front end had been blown apart.” He shrugged, "After that the colonists took what was left of the ship and headed for the system nearest to where they would be at when they could bring it down to planetary speeds. That was about ten years ago.” Les, who had been silent since they had come into the room, said, "How did they find the starship?” It was more of a plea than a ques- tion. "A good question,” said Wilcox. "How did they find it? If ive knew, xve wouldn’t be here.” "That’s not the real question,” said Coleman, as he ran his hand down the arm of his chair. The thing had been vibrating ever so slightly for the last minute and a half. "The real question is, who are the attackers.” "Both of them are important,” said Wilcox, "and both have to be answered.” "Well,” said Coleman, "part of the answer may be right on that ship. After that attack — " He broke off. The vibration had increased, and now the glass in the window was rattling. "What’s that?” Les asked foolish- ly. Coleman turned and glared at him. The man was all right as a radio engineer, but at other things he had a tendency to be downright stupid. Suddenly the room started to sway THE FIRST INCH 47

Page 49

back and forth, pitching like a small boat on a choppy lake. Coleman tightly gripped the chair which slid first one way then the other. He had a dim memory of Les shouting some- thing, then tumbling to the floor. Wilcox pitched off his desk where he had been sitting and fell across Coleman’s lap, where he held on for dear life. Through the thick walls they heard the agonized squeak of metal against metal, then in a few seconds, a tremendous crash as the hoist hit the ground. For an instant gravity lessened, and the five colonists, tight- ly balled together, rolled past. Cole- man squeezed his eyes shut and prayed. If one of those ships out there should topple — Full gravity returned with a thump and the chair, already over- loaded, collapsed and sent Coleman sprawling. He tried to get up but Wilcox refused to let go, and so he started to crawl across the room with the man hanging to his legs. Suddenly the floor heaved violently, and Coleman saw the wall rush at his face. The first thing Coleman heard as he awoke was Wilcox shouting “. . . I don’t care. Get that hoist up. We’ve got to unload that ship before Expectations MCXXl arrives, and get it out of here.” He opened his eyes and winced as he was struck by the bright light. Gently he felt his nose. It felt brok- en. Coleman experimentally flexed his muscles. Nothing else seemed 48 any worse than bruised, and he got shakily to his feet. The office was a shambles, with furniture scattered and broken, and blood smeared on one wall. Les and the colonists were gone. "Well, you’re with us again.” Coleman turned around. Wilcox was perched again on his desk, his hand forever resting on the communica- tion box. The big gray ugly desk was bolted to the floor, and it took more than an earthquake to shake it loose. "I thought,” said Colman, auto- matically fingering his throbbing nose, "that survey said this place was geologically stable.” Wilcox shrugged, bouncing off the desk, "We’ll catch up with them later. Right now. I’ve got a crew out setting up stabilizers.” Coleman frowned, even though it hurt his nose when he did. There was something that he wanted to remember, but the thought was elu- sive. Instead he said, "Where are our dirty friends.^” He gestured over to where the colonists had been. "Les took them over to first aid. They needed it. Here, have a cigar, you look like you need one.” Wil- cox reached over and handed one to Coleman. The short man didn’t smoke them himself, but everyone else on the w'clcomc team seemed to take on Coleman’s habit and w'as continually loading Wilcox with them. Coleman bit the end off and lit it. The smoke penetrated up into his nose causing him to sneeze, and ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 50

tlie blood that had clotted while he liad been unconscious broke free. Me cursed under his breath and balled his handkerchief against the bleeding nostril. "Now look what you did,” he said, crushing the almost unsmoked cigar under his heel. Wilcox clicked his tongue and said, "Every silver lining has its dark cloud around it.” "Yes, but docs mine always have to be you ?” Wilcox clicked his tongue again and said, "You started to say some- thing before the earthquake. What was it?” Coleman limped, perhaps a bit more pronouncedly than necessary, over to the desk and sat on a corner. Almost everything else in the room IkuI been pretty well battered, and after the last chair had collapsed un- der him, he didn’t want to take any chances. "Oh, I was just about to tell you that they had captured one of the attackers. Seems that when the other ships disappeared several were left behind, destroyed by the colonists' action. The attackers were aliens, but from his description I don't recog- nize the type.” Coleman stopped, then continued as casually as he could while holding a bleeding nose with an old hand- kerchief. "They still have one of them — alive.” 'I he hoist climbed slowly into the glare-hidden night sky, its damage, if any, was unapparent. Coleman turned the handkerchief around and started soaking the clean side. A con- tinuous stream of colonists, dirty, naked, and in some cases bloody, came out of the lower hatch and out into the cold night. A whole squad of the welcome team was waiting for them with blankets and hot soup. Quite a few colonists hesitated at the door, frightened by the cold and the tremendous open space, but the smell of hot soup and the blankets thrown over their shoulders brought them out. If that wasn’t enough, the pressure of those in back forced them out. "What do we need the hoist for?” shouted Les over the machine’s whine. Close up it was almost un- bearable. • "We — ” Wilcox, tried to answer then he gave up. "I’ll tell you when it stops.” "What?” "I said,” shouted Wilcox again, 'Til tell you when the hoist stops.” He was shouting the last three words in the sudden silence as the hoist reached its full height and turned itself off. "Oh.” "Never mind,” said Coleman through his handkerchief. "We can talk on the way up.” "Let’s go,” he said in Anglo Spanish to the colonist at his side. Right now they all looked alike, but after they shaved and scrubbed they would take on a little individ- uality. I'he four men stepped onto the small platform and Wilcox pressed THE FIRST INCH 49

Page 51

the starting button. Slowly it lifted along the side of the hoist. From this distance Coleman could see the scratched paint and the dented crosspieces where the machine had scraped against the hull of the star- ship and the battered plates where it had hit the tarmac. "You didn’t answer me yet,’’ said Les. "Oh. 'Well, our friend here” — Wilcox gestured at the colonist who was clinging to the railing with a wild look on his face. "Roget,” supplied Coleman, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. "Our friend PvOget says that they have the alien locked up in a compartment up near top.” "Never mind,” said Coleman, "here we are.” The platform came to a smooth stop, and the hoist slow- 50 ly swung it over until it came to rest against the hull. Roget walked across the platform, his blanket flapping about him in the stiff cold breeze, and produced a silver block of metal from somewhere on his person. He held it against the black metal wall and waited for perhaps a second. A section of the hull slid back and he joyfully rushed through into the opening. The other three stepped in after him. "The air’s not bad here,” said Wilcox, mildly surprised. "After those lower levels, I was afraid that we might need spacesuits to be able to stand the stink.” Roget motioned Coleman closer and said slowly in Anglo-Spanish, "The creature breathes air — our air that is — but it uses very low pressure, ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 52

and it stinks badly. It would be best if we use suits.” Coleman nodded. It was a good thing that the alien breathed the same sort of air as did humans, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to keep it alive. The ship had no facilities for foreign atmospheres. "Looks like we’ll have to wear suits anyway, Wilcox.” he said. "Oh?” said Wilcox, then he fol- lowed Coleman’s eyes to the inner door of the air lock. "Oh.” The four men hastily slipped into spacesuits taken from a locker inside the lock. Once air-tight Roget put the silver block against the inner door and the outer one slid shut. Their suits ballooned up and the inner door slid open. Roget stepped through into the corridor and impatiently waved the others on. They followed as he went down several dozen feet and stopped before a door. "It’s in there,” he said to Cole- man. Coleman turned to Les and Wil- cox and said, "Roget says that it’s in there.” The door slid open and they saw the alien for the first time. It lay in the center of the room, a tremen- dous mass of blue-green flesh that resembled nothing so much as a half melted lump of moldy butter. For a long time both the alien and the humans stood opposite each other motionless. As the newness of the creature disappeared Coleman began to make out details. Near the top the blue-green skin grew more blue and the texture became furry — ^no, he changed his mind, whatever it was, it looked more like . . . like grass. Farther down the smooth flesh the grasslike hair sprang up again and grew progressively longer until at the floor it was several feet long. Suddenly the creature opened a blue eye and looked at them. Cole- man quickly corrected himself. It only looked like a blue eye; it was a disk about three inches across, white around the rim, but quickly shading into blue, until it was a deep blue-black in the center. The alien moved back a little, then without warning it rushed towards them. Startled, Coleman, Les, and Wilcox fell back away from the doorway. Roget, who had stood his ground, turned and smiled broadly at Cole- man, "That’s all right, it’s just hun- gry,” he said, as the creature tugged at his legs with its whiplike tendrils. "It’s safe,” Coleman said over his shoulder as he edged closer. Then in Anglo-Spanish he said, “What do you feed it?” "Oh, just about anything. It leaves what it doesn’t want.” "It must be missing things in that diet.” Roget shrugged his massive shoul- ders, "It was almost round when we found it. But it’s still alive.” Coleman turned to Wilcox, "We’d better take it out of here. How soon can we have a room set up for it?” Wilcox looked pensive for a mo- ment, then he said, "Providing the air-tight rooms didn’t spring a leak THE FIRST INCH 51

Page 53

in the quake, about a half an hour.” "Good.” Then in Anglo-Spanish, "Let’s go.” "O.K.,” said Roget who had been trying to follow their conversation. Then the colonist turned and shooed the alien back into the room, "Go on, get back in. No food now. Later.” Coleman raised an eyebrow, "It can understand you?” Roget nodded, "It can even talk, almost better than you.” Coleman felt a tremendous load lift off his mind. He had had visions of trying laboriously to communicate with the thing by an improvised Morse code, or perhaps some sort of sign language. It would be hard enough to start from scratch like that with a human being, but to do so with an alien creature with perhaps different senses, and no common means of communication would be near impossible. Coleman looked upward as the hoist lifted the air-tight mobile car- rier up to the lock far overhead. The sun was rising in the east, paling the port lights. He looked down at 'Wilcox at his side, "Doesn't look like you’ll, have it out of here for another few hours.” "Yes. And won’t you know it, the Expectations MCXXl will come in and just happen to land here just as we’re about to get this thing off the ground.” "Wilcox,” said Coleman changing the subject, "how much trouble did the quake cause in town?” "Too much,” said the short thin man, "I’ll know better today when I send out a few inspection crews, but I’m afraid we’ll have to send for the construction crew again.” "That’ll take time. They probably are halfway to Andromeda by now on the next welcome.” "Until then,” continued Wilcox, "we’ll let these colonists stay here — Look out!” He yanked Coleman out of the way as the hoist lowered the platform down where he had been standing. Les jumped over the side to the ground and said, "We didn’t have much trouble at all. Roget over there” — he pointed to the newly cleaned and clothed, but stubbornly unshaved colonist inside of the rail- ing— ^"talked it into the wagon just as easy as you please.” Coleman stood back while the other three men took the railing apart. At last they rolled it off the platform and onto the ground. The hoist moved up and out of the way, and Les started the cart over towards the quarantine building with Roget sitting on the roof. Coleman watched them disappear across the tarmac, then he turned to Wilcox. "Do you realize what this means?” he said, waving his hands towards where the lookout ships had stood. "Once we find out how those aliens found this ship it’ll mean the end of this macabre welcoming com- mittee. The hard part is over.” "Maybe,” said Wilcox yawning. 52 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 54

"I don’t know about you, but I’m dead.” He turned and started to- wards his quarters. "See you in about a year, I bet I haven’t slept in dose to two millennia.” Coleman looked after him impas- sively. Wilcox could afford to sleep, but his work was just beginning. He turned and started in the direc- tion the cart had taken. Les had already installed the alien in its depressurized quarters and was trying to make it understand him by shouting each word loud and clearly with a notable lack of success when Coleman entered the room. He had reached the point where he merely grasped the microphone in a bloodless hand and bellowed curses at the creature on the other side of the glass, as it looked bland- ly back at him with its single blue eye. "Well,” Coleman asked mildly, "why don’t you put it in writing . . . of course, it probably couldn’t un- derstand that, either.” Les stopped in mid word with his mouth wide open. For an awful- ly long time it looked like it would stay that way, then he snapped it closed with an audible click. "I’m glad you came,” said Roget, who had been in one corner, winc- ing at each shouted word. “I really wish I could understand what Les was trying to tell it.” Coleman nodded and said, "We’ll have to teach you a more modern tongue, but first we have to find out a few things from the alien.” "Les,” he said, switching lan- guages for a moment, “get the lab boys in here, I want a complete biopsy on that thing.” "Sure,” said Les, abashed at his previous conduct. He turned and left the room. "Now then,” said Coleman, "does it have a name? We can’t very well keep calling it 'the alien’ all the time.” "We’ve called it all sorts of things,” Roget shook his head sadly, "but most of them aren’t fit to print.” He looked musingly at the alien. The large blue eye returned his gaze. "It will, however, answer to Fido.” "Fido?” "Yes. A name commonly given a dog in our day, but if it doesn’t know, why should it care?” Coleman picked up the mike, switching it on, and walked up to the glass wall. "Fido,” he said, "I have some questions I want to ask you.” A humming sound came over the speaker that connected the two rooms as the alien activated certain tendrils preparatory to speaking. "Yes?” it buzzed. An hour later Coleman gave up in disgust as Farnum and his lab men crowded into the interview room with their equipment. "Come on,” he waved at Roget who had been sitting quietly and tugging at his beard while the alien had refused to answer Coleman’s questions, "let’s get out of here.” "I’m sorry,” said Roget as they THE FIRST INCH 53

Page 55

went through the heavy outer doors and stepped onto the tarmac, "but I could have told you that it would not answer your questions. It was obvious to us that it had a faster- than-light drive — that’s why we bothered to keep it alive all this time.” “Ten years?” Roget nodded. Coleman felt the heavy hand of defeat rest itself on his shoulder. If in all that time the colonists had been unable to get an answer, what chance had he? In ten years a lot of things can be tried, everything from torture to kindness. His only ad- vantage was that he had a technol- ogy that was more competent than theirs. After all, they had not had five hundred years of contact with aliens, nor even the full technology that they would have had if they hadn’t lost the front end of their ship. A blare of loud-speakers warned them back as activity around the base of the half destroyed starship increased. It was almost ready for take-off now and in a few minutes it would be leaving to orbit around Altair-Clarke. The planet was so far out from its primary that the tradi- tional nine names had been finished and the Reimer list was used, of which Clarke was the fifth. It was far enough out so that it would go unexplored, if indeed, noticed at all. The light supplied it by Altair was so weak that only nonoptical instru- ments could locate it at any distance 54 greater than a few billion miles. Wilcox walked around the far side of the unloading crew giving last minute orders. Coleman hailed him. "Wilcox! I thought you were going to bed.” Wilcox turned around and walked over to where Coleman and Roget were standing. He snorted, "No such luck. It seems that nobody here knows how to handle one of these old ships.” "Expectations MCXXl enter the system yet?” asked Coleman. "No.” Wilcox looked back at the final stages of the unloading and said after a pause, "It isn’t serious — yet. There are many things that could be wrong, but not seriously wrong. 'The original calculations could be off by just a hair and it would be enough to throw them off days — or even years, for that matter. Or their navigation might be off a billionth of a degree some place, and they might be hell gone for leather in any direction. But all that can be corrected. They’ve got enough reaction mass to return them to Earth, if necessary.” "I wish things were as simple for me as they are for you,” said Cole- man. "All you have to do is worry.” "Why?” asked Wilcox turning back. "Having little troubles?” "Well, if you consider an intrac- table alien weighing about eight hundred little, yes. How the devil are we going to make a thing like that talk? Jab pins in it?” “That’s, as you said, your worry,” Wilcox shrugged. "By the way, I ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 56

noticed that your nose stopped bleed- ing, how does it feel?” Coleman gingerly felt the large injured appendage. He winced as pain shot through where he touched it. "It hasn’t set right. I just noticed in the mirror that it’s off a few de- grees to the right.” "What?” shouted Wilcox gleeful- ly. "Let me see that.” He grabbed Coleman’s shoulders and turned him until he was standing squarely in front of him. For a minute Wilcox carefully examined the damaged proboscis, then he doubled over in heavy boom- ing laughter, "I’ll be darn — cock- eyed !” Coleman stoically withstood the indignity as long as he could, then he calmly picked up the little man and threw him over his shoul- der. "Hey, what are you doing?” asked Wilcox, alarmed. "I,” said Coleman, starting for the nearby river, "am going to see how you like taking a bath.” Coleman waved a stubby finger at the bloated figure of the alien, and said, "O.K., now what do we do?” Roget tugged gently at his beard and said nothing. In the week that had gone by the tension generated by the nonappearance of the Expecta- tions MCX.XI had reached every- body, including the colonists. No- body had been left out, from the crews of the lookout ships to the biolab men working on Fido. Roget followed Coleman’s finger with his gaze and rested his eyes on the alien. It no longer looked a fried egg sunny side up, but had returned to its original shape and looked like a blue-green balloon filled with water. That had been the biggest surprise. The creature had a fantastic metabolism, and much to everyone’s surprise it apparently had been get- ting very little nourishment from the food supplied it by the colonists. All that time it had been living off its body tissue. In the week past it had turned close to fifty per cent of the food the bio men had fed it back into body tissue. An incredible feat, and one that had the bio lab swearing that it couldn’t be real ! Twelve hours ago it had stopped talking, and there was no way that they could make it respond. "I think,” Roget said, "I know what happened.” "Well, don’t keep it secret from me,” Coleman muttered. "It’s simple, really. Fido must have been slowly starving on what we were giving it, and now that you’ve fed it so well it needn’t worry about you starving it into submission. It knows that you want that information badly enough to keep it alive unharmed.” Coleman shook his head glumly, "Don’t tell me we’ll have to wait another ten years until it’s half starved again.” "I suppose so.” Roget shook his massive shoulders and yawned loud- ly. "Maybe you can get some re- THE FIRST INCH 55

Page 57

suits with, all that technology of yours, but I doubt it.” "If there was only some way I could make it want to tell me what — ” Coleman broke off as the outer door swung open and Les rushed into the room. "Survey’s arrived, I thought that you might want to know,” said Les, his narrow chest heaving as he caught his breath. "When did they get here?” asked Coleman, ignoring the puzzled expression on Roget’s face. Les wiped the sweat off his pinch- ed features with a grease-covered handkerchief. "Oh, about an hour ago, but they remapped the planet before they landed.” "Where are they now?” "That’s what I came here for. They headed right for Wilcox’s office. I thought you’d want to see the sparks fly.” Coleman nodded slowly. Sparks would fly, Wilcox was on edge enough with the missing ship, and he just needed this excuse to go over. "I'll be right with you,” he said as Les started moving towards the door. Then slipping into Anglo- Spanish he said, "Roget, you stay here and watch Fido. You might think of a dodge that hasn’t been used yet.” Wilcox answered the door. His face was pale, with his eyes protrud- ing slightly and his mouth a mere white slash. He led Coleman and Les over to a large tall figure dressed in black who was standing by the 56 desk on which was spread a geologi- cal map of Altair-Earth. "Mr. Mawson of survey, Mr. Coleman of communications theory, and Mr. Les, communications.” Hands were clasped briefly and politely, then Coleman said, "Well?” "The answer is simple,” said Wil- cox, his voice strangely thin. "The quake had been planet-wide.” Mawson nodded and pointed to the map. "The lines in blue repre- sent the geological structure of Altair-Earth before the quake. Now notice the red lines superimposed on the blue. Tliose represent the Earth faults after the quake.” Mawson stood aside as Coleman and Les crowded around the map. Finally after a long time Coleman looked up and whistled, "The whole planet looks like it was put in a mixer.” Mawson said, "Yes, but did you notice that the band of greatest dam- age bisects the planet almost perfect- ly. It’s a little hard to see it on this flat projection, but the planet is roughly cut up into two hemispheres where the damage was much less.” He looked at them, "Fortunately for you, you’re near the center of one of them.” Coleman asked, "Have you any idea what caused it?” Mawson looked at his fingernails, then rubbed them briefly on his lapel. “Ordinarily I’d say an approach by a body of planetary mass, but not this time. The whole thing must have occurred in microseconds. Otherwise the band of intense dam- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 58

age would be bloated in the areas that turned under the intruding body due to the rotation of Altair-Earth during the time of interaction.” Les broke the long silence that followed Mawson’s remarks by say- ing, "Well, what did cause it.^” "I'll be darned if I know,” said Mawson. "About the only thing to do is go back and look.” Coleman said, "Do you think w'e can carry out the calculations here.? There are a lot of unknowns in this solar system, and besides, I don’t know if we have enough high-pow- ered math boys to swing it.” The man in black shrugged, "What else are we going to do . . . what else can w^e do but try.?” Coleman hesitated for a while, then said, "Mind if I go along? I’ve never been on one of these time trips.” Wilcox unfroze and nodded be- fore Mawson could say no. "I think you should — give you a chance to take a break and come back to a fresh start.” Mawson assented reluctantly after Wilcox described the situation. Coleman and Wilcox entered the survey ship shortly after dawn two days later. They met briefly at the bottom of the ramp and looked back at the hazy disk of the rising sun. THE FIRST INCH 57

Page 59

“Any news from the lookout ships yet?” said Coleman as he chewed on an unlit cigar. “Nothing. There hasn’t been any- thing larger than a few minor comets entering the system in the last twenty-four hours.” “I haven’t had any luck with Fido either. The thing just lays there, looking at me with that blue eye and doesn’t move unless we feed it. Even then it doesn’t do anything but move to the feeder and back again. I’m stumped.” No more words were exchanged as they climbed the ramp and en- tered the ship. Mawson met them at the hatch, and welcomed them aboard quietly. “We leave in about fifteen min- utes,” he said. “Good. Have a cigar?” Wilcox offered hopefully. “Sure,” said Coleman. Wilcox frowned and surrendered the cigar ungraciously as Mawson politely refused. He knew he was Coleman’s chief source of supply and he resented the presumption. “Any special preparation neces- sary?” asked Coleman as they en- tered the control room. “Nothing but the usual. We’ll en- ter macrolight space as soon as we leave atmosphere.” Coleman sat down on the edge of the acceleration couch feeling just a little queasy. “Are there any un- usual effects?” Mawson directed Wilcox to an- other acceleration couch and then sat on one himself. Several techni- 58 dans finished last-minute adjust- ments and soon followed suit. There was nothing to do but wait. “Have you ever been in macro- light space when your ship was given no destination?” Coleman shook his head. Mawson sighed. "That would have made things easier — but here goes anyway. When a ship is given desti- nation it pops in and out of macro- light space so fast that the effect is seemingly instantaneous translation. However when you do not give a destination the ship just hangs in macrolight space.” Mawson leaned back in the couch. “Macrolight space has several inter- esting properties, among them being that the mind has complete control of matter. For instance, you can step through a wall, or walk on the ceil- ing for that matter. But the one that we’re most interested in at the mo- ment is that 'f or time is not a constant — ^we can travel back in time as far as we want, but not forward past the farthest point in the fu- ture that we really existed in time. "While in the past we can drop out of macrolight space into the normal universe, but only as ob- servers— the past is immutable. Through some method of which we know little about, we can see what is happening, though we can neither hear nor feel anything that we did not bring along — in fact, since the same physical laws that hold in macrolight space hold while we’re in the past, we’re rather sure that the 'sight’ is mentally induced. It ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 60

can’t be proved, though, because our instruments work as well there as in normal time.” Coleman sat back, partially satis- fied. The explanation was no doubt superficial, but it at least gave him an inkling of what to expect. Reach- ing over, he clipped his cigar to the ashtray. Mawson reached over the control board, keeping his hand in the air. "Time.^” he asked one of the tech- nicians. The other man nodded, and Maw- son reached down and flicked a switch. For a minute or two nothing happened, then deep within the ship the thrumming sound of jets warm- ing up was conducted through the ■Steel frame and set loose in the small cabin. Coleman felt the skin draw tight on his face as the flesh under- neath tensed, waiting for the mo- ment when the ship would come fully to life. The sound increased, filling the whole room with its power, and slowly a heavy hand applied pressure on his chest, belly, arms, legs and face. Then suddenly it was over and the silence that followed was almost a tangible force. Mawson stood up and walked to a port. "Well, this is macrolight space. Doesn’t feel much different, does it? Come here, look out the port.” Coleman got to his feet, carefully making sure that he kept thinking of the floor as being solid. The technicians were already up and pre- paring the ship for the jump into the past. Their job was simple for the moment, the calculations had been made beforehand, and all they had to do was set the controls in the proper order. It would be more diffi- cult coming back when the calcula- tions had to be done over again. The calculations had to be done by hu- mans, because the mathematical transformations were beyond the range of the mechanical computers. He stepped next to Mawson, and he felt, rather than saw Wilcox step beside him. Through the port he could see nothing. Absolutely noth- ing. It was as black as pitch. How- ever, as he watched, to one side a blurred patch of light appeared, much like a defused drop of w^hite ink on a black blotting paper. "What is that?” he heard Wilcox say. "That’s the macrolight space pro- jection of Altair. We’ll be dropping into the past in a few minutes,” Mawson answered distantly. Coleman stumbled back to his ac- celeration couch and retrieved his cigar from the ashtray. It was still lit, and he struck it into his mouth, puffing it vaguely. Everything was so unreal. He remembered what Mawson had said: "The mind has complete control of matter — ” The room started to shimmer and grow dark, slipping farther and farther away. Someone was shouting distantly. He awoke with a jar, and instantly everything was bright, hard, real and immediate. Wilcox was standing in THE FIRST INCH 69

Page 61

front of the couch holding tightly to his shoulders with a horrified ex- pression staining his face. Mawson was frantically working over the control board with the technicians standing helplessly off to one side. Through the port he could see the familiar stars, hard gleaming points of light that he had seen every night over Altair-Earth. "What happened?” he gasped. Mawson looked up from the board with relief. "You’ll have to be more careful,” he said. "You almost thought yourself out of existence. I just managed to drop into normal space in time.” Wilcox finally was able to free his tongue and say, "You just started to fade — Coleman managed to pull himself together. "This won’t upset the trip to the past, will it?” "Not in any important way,” said Mawson. "We’ll just get there a few minutes later then we intended, but that won’t matter because I’ve given us enough leeway. Watch yourself this time, here we go.” Suddenly the stars disappeared and blackness filled the port again. Another pause, and the stars reap- peared again. Down below lay the tremendous dark sphere of Altair- Earth at night. "Cameras set?” said Mawson. "Check,” said one of the techs. "How soon?” said Wilcox. "Any minute now,” answered Mawson. A click followed by a high whine sounded, then everything was still 60 again. The high-speed cameras had done their work. “That’s it,” said Mawson pushing his chair back. "The pictures will be ready in a few minutes, and we’ll have our answer.” He pressed a but- ton on the board and said, "Paul, send up the math boys.” A click sounded, and a roll of tape was ejected from the bank of cameras. Mawson lifted it out of the bin and slapped it into the viewer. For a minute the picture didn't change. Altair-Earth hung below, a massive black sphere crowned to the east with the brilliant red rim of dawn. High, and to the right, the white point of light that was Altair- Mats hung majestically in the vast- ness. Beyond, the polychromatic tor- rent of diamond-sharp stars blazed as it swirled across the screen. A flock of blue light identified itself in the center of the screen and grew larger, pulling away from the star field. It expanded rapidly, com- ing almost directly at them. Suddenly it exploded through the spectrum as it passed them, and the picture turned to follow it as it dis- appeared, a pale red light. "A composite print,” Mawson explained. "No camera could turn that fast.” ""What was it?” asked Wilcox in a withdrawn tone of voice. "Just a second. I’ll try to freeze the picture,” said Mawson as he fiddled with the controls. Coleman bit his lip as the blue light appeared on the screen, then the red. Something in his bones told ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 62

him that he knew what it was al- ready. The object finally appeared on the screen in it’s yellow phase, and Maw- son drew it into focus. They looked at it unmoving for a timeless sec- ond, then Coleman shuddered and turned away, covering his eyes. He had been right. He heard Wilcox gasp, and then the click as Mawson turned off the viewer. After a long while Mawson sigh- ed and said, "It looks as though you can quit waiting for the Ex- l>eclations MCXXl. It’s come and gone.’’ Coleman nodded and opened his eyes. An object moving at near light speed in the normal universe in- creases in mass. The Expectatiom MCXXl had never decelerated to enter the Altair system. It was a gutted hulk. The silence that followed Maw- son’s remarks was broken by the matli men as they came into the con- trol rocMTi to start the calculations necessary for returning to the real present. Coleman raised the intensity of the ultrasonic projector and turned back to the alien on the other side of the glass. It was quivering like a bowl of jello caught in a reducing machine. It couldn’t take much more of this. He reached for the intensity con- trol to raise it another notch, but stoj-iped when I’arnum, head of the biology lab, stepped away from a bank of instruments and said, ■ better not. A little bit more and Fido goes boom.” The blond man wiped the sweat off the palms of his hands on his lab coat and said, "I guess we might as well get some sleep. It’ll take at least twelve hours before Fido will be in condition again.” Coleman nodded. He felt like he needed at least twelve hours sleep before he could work on Fido. He stretched and yawned loudly, turning off the equipment. Farnum shook off the white lab coat at the door and hung it up in the small locker just outside. "Good night,” he said. "Or should I say good morning,” and disappeared down the corridor. Coleman followed Farnum out of the building but parted from his path at the door and went to the hill back of the town instead of his quarters. Slowly he climbed the slope and looked at the soft stars that arched overhead. Out there were a thousand ships, spread between the stars, slowly creeping outward just under the speed of light. Helpless prey for the aliens that could drop out of nowhere, blast, and return to nowhere. Tears of frustration filled his eyes. He had the answer, right in the palm of his hands, if only he could solve it. His problem stated quite simply was how to make the alien ivant to talk. Communication is a two-way proposition. 'The very first thing nec- essary for it to take place is a medi- um of information transfer. He had THE FIRST INCH 61

Page 63

that. The next thing is the ability to transmit and receive that information at both ends. There was the rub; though both he and Fido had those abilities, Fido chose not to use one of them. It refused to send informa- tion. Coleman lit a cigar and began pacing. How could he make it send information? It had stopped doing so almost completely. A slight wave of excitement washed over him and he took the cigar out of his mouth. He had the glimmerings of an idea. Coleman burst into Wilcox’s ofEcc ten hours later and threw a sheaf of papers on the newly repainted desk. He looked around at the faces of Wilcox, Mawson and Les and said with drama that he allowed himself to use only because he was so dead tired: "Gentlemen, here is the answer to our problems.’’ Then, as his common sense caught up with him,- "Or at least the start of the answer.” Wilcox made no effort to pick up the paper, instead he stared blankly at Coleman and repeated, "An- swer?” "Yes,” said Coleman, the tempta- tion to dramatize still not completely scjLiashed. "We really had it all along but didn’t see it. "And it’s so simple it makes me sick almost. All we have to do is build a unit into the drive that will jump back into the past, and while in normal space zero in on whatever is the target. When 'in’ time it can take as long as it wants to find it. In the case of our sublight ships it can go back to the moment each ship was launched and follow it until it is within microseconds of the 'pres- ent’ where it slips back into macro- light space and meets the rescue .ship. Subjectively, for the unit that slips back into the past, the whole thing might take centuries, but for those on the ship the operation is almost instantaneous.” Misinterpreting the blank looks on their faces, he sought for an analogy. "It’s like a radar wave that bounces off a distant object and re- turns, only instead this 'wave’ is sent into the distant past and 'bounces’ back to the present.” Coleman looked uncomfortably at the silent faces. Were they getting it, or weren’t they? Finally Mawson broke the silence. "That’s a very nice theory, but do you realize the computation neces- sary for every second in the past? Why it took the entire math de- partment three days to figure out the calculations for our three hours.” "We'll just have to build com- puters to handle the math, that’s all,” said Coleman. "Computers can’t handle that level of math . . . can they?” Les looked questioningly at Mawson. "Of course not,” said Mawson. "Computers can do simple math only, and they can do it fast. But when it comes to macrolight time translations, they’re lost.” "Well,” said Coleman unperturb- 62 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 64

ed, "we'll just have to build one, that's all. After all, if the aliens can, so can we.” ■Wilcox found himself repeating loolishly again, "Alien?” Mawson stood up and said, "Alien? You mean you managed to make Fido talk?” "Yes,” said Coleman, his sense of the dramatic running away with him again. He took out a cigar and lit it with a slow overly casual sweep of his arm. Then he folded his pudgy arms and sat on the corner of the desk, the picture of inno- cence. "For crying out loud,” said 'Wil- cox, "stop acting so cute.” "It was simple, really,” said Cole- man, unwinding his arms. "For a long time I had been suffering under the misapprehension that Fido was not sending, just receiving. Then it occurred to me that his brain was constantly sending and receiving messages of sense data and so on from the rest of his body. "Now if there is anything more important than everything else to an intelligent being, it is communi- cation. Every day of our lives we seek to communicate with each other just a little bit better. It’s the basis of the age-old dream of telepathy, and the reason why mankind has never stopped dreaming of that power. Even Fido had these instincts to the extent that he learned to speak — which was quite a trick, by the way, since his species does not use an audible form of communication. Some sort of sign language, Farnum tells me. "What I did was break ail com- munication between Fido’s brain and its body and the outside world, by having Farnum block all nerve paths at the brain. However, I did leave the audio-c'ontrol nerves open. It was all output with very little feedback. Practically speaking, Fido was com- pletely isolated — perhaps more so than any living creature has ever been.” Coleman stood up slowly and shrugged. "Do you have any idea what it is like to be fully conscious and unable to feel, hear, see, or say anything? Without outside informa- tion it is impossible to tell how much time has passed — it might be an hour, a century, or just a few seconds. Fido knew what I wanted. It took an hour and nine minutes before he gave in. Fido had to talk or go mad, so it talked.” The others looked back at him with expressions that he couldn’t quite read. "I can’t say that I partic- ularly feel very proud of myself.” He threw the lit cigar across the room and walked slowly to the door. Outside the thick walls the sun was shining, and the man-induced first spring of Altair-Earth was tak- ing hold of the land. Coleman walk- ed across the sunlit tarmac with his - head hanging from more than just lack of sleep. He had just invented the ultimate in information-extrac- tion— the limiting goal of millennia of tortures. THE FIRST INCH THE END

Page 65

64 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 66

Perhaps the major danger was simply the congenital stupidity of the human race. Too stupid to know when it was licked. , . . Illustrated by Freas The spaceboat came down in the silence of perfect working order — down through the cool, dark night of a New Hampshire late spring. There was hardly any moon and the path emerging from the clump of conifers and snaking its way across the dim pasture looked like a long strip of pale cloth, carelessly dropped and forgotten there. The two aliens checked the boat and stopped it, hovering, some fifty feet above the pasture, and all but invisible against the low-lying clouds. Then they set themselves to wait, their woolly, bearlike forms settled on haunches, their uniform belts glinting a little in the shielded light from the instrument panel, talking now and then in desultory murmurs. "It’s not a bad place,” said the one of junior rank, looking down at the earth below. "Why should it be?” answered the senior. The junior did not answer. He shifted on his haunches. "The babies are due soon,” he said. "I just got a message.” "How many?” asked the senior. "Three — the doctor thinks. That’s not bad for a first birthing.” "My wife only had two.” "I know. You told me.” They fell silent for a few seconds. The spaceboat rocked almost imper- ceptibly in the waters of night. “Look — •” said the junior, sudden- ly. "Here it comes, right on sched- ule.” The senior glanced overside. Down below, a tall, dark form had emerged from the trees and was coming out along the path. A little beam of light shone before him, terminating in a blob of illumination that danced along the path ahead, lighting his way. The senior stiff- ened. "Take controls,” he said. The 65 DANGER— HUMAN !

Page 67

casiialness had gone out of his voice. It had become crisp, impersonal. "Controls,” answered the other, in the same emotionless voice. "Take her down.” "Down it is.” The spaceboat dropped ground- ward. There was an odd sort of soundless, lightless explosion — it was as if concussive wave had passed, rob- bed of all effects but one. The figure dropped, the light rolling from its grasp and losing its glow in a tangle of short grass. The spaceboat landed and the two aliens got out. In the dark night they loomed furrily above the still figure. It was that of a lean, dark man in his early thirties, dressed in clean, much- washed corduroy pants and checkered wool lumberjack shirt. He was un- conscious, but breathing slowly, deep- ly and easily. "I’ll take it up by the head, here,” said the senior. "You take the other end. Got it? Lift! Now, carry it into the boat.” The junior backed away, up through the spaceboat’s open lock, grunting a little with the awkward- ness of his burden. "It feels slimy,” he said. "Nonsense!” said the senior. "That’s your imagination.” Eldridge Timothy Parker drifted in that dreamy limbo between awake- ness and full sleep. He found himself contemplating his own name. Eldridge Timothy Parker. El- dridgetimothyparker. EldridgeTIMO- THYparker. ELdrlDGEtiMOthy- PARKer. ... There was a hardness under his back, the back on which he was lying — and a coolness. His flaccid right hand turned flat, feelinsr. It felt like steel beneath him. Metal? He tried to sit up and bumped his forehead against a ceiling a few inches over- head. He blinked his eyes in the darkness — - Darkness? He flung out his hands, searching, feeling terror leap up inside him. His knuckles bruised against walls to right and left. Frantic, his groping fingers felt out, around and about him. He was walled in, he was sur- rounded, he was enclosed. Completely. Like in a coffin. Buried — He began to scream. . . . -*• Much later, when he awoke again, he was in a strange place that seemed to have no walls, but many instru- ments. He floated in the center of mechanisms that passed and repassed about him, touching, probing, turn- ing. He felt touches of heat and cold. Strange hums and notes of various pitches came and went. He felt voices questioning him. Who are you? "Eldridge Parker — Eldridge Tim- othy Parker — ” What are you? "I’m Eldridge Parker — ” Tell about yourself. "Tell what? What?” Tell about yourself. 66 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 68

"What? What do you want to know? What — ” Tell about. . . . "But I—” Tell. . . . . . . well, i suppose i was pretty much like any of the kids around our town . . . i was a pretty good shot and i won the fifth grade seventy- five yard dash . . . i played hockey, too . . . pretty cold weather up around our parts, you know, the air used to smell strange it was so cold winter mornings in January when you first stepped out of doors ... it is good, open country, new england, and there were lots of smells . . . there were pine smells and grass smells and i remember especially the kitchen smells . . . and then, too, there was the way the oak benches in church used to smell on Sunday when you knelt with your nose right next to the back of the pew ahead. . . . . . . the fishing up our parts is good too . . . i liked to. fish but i never wasted time on weekdays ... we were presbyterians, you know, and my father had the farm, but he also had money invested in land around the country ... we have never been badly off but i would have liked a motor-scooter. . . . ... no i did not never hate the germans, at least i did not think i ever did, of course though i was over in europe i never really had it bad, combat, i mean . . . i was in a motor pool with the raw smell of gasoline, i like to work with my hands, and DANGER— HUMAN ! it was not like being in the infan- try. ... . . . i have as good right to speak up to the town council as any man . . . i do not believe in pushing but if they push me i am going to push right back . . . nor it isn’t any man’s business what i voted last election no more than my bank balance . . . but i have got as good as right to a say in town doings as if i was the biggest landholder among them. . . . . . . i did not go to college because it was not necessary . . . too much education can make a fool of any man, i told my father, and i know when i have had enough ... i am a farmer and will always be a farmer and i will do my own studying as things come up without taking out a pure waste of four years to hang a piece of paper on the wall. . . . ... of course i know about the atom bomb, but i am no scientist and no need to be one, no more than i need to be a vetrinarian . . . i elect the men that hire the men that need to know those things and the men that i elect will hear from me johnny-quick if things do not go to my liking. . . . ... as to why i never married, that is none of your business ... as it happens, i was never at ease with women much, though there were a couple of times, and i still may if jeanie lind. . . . . . . i believe in god and the united states of america. . . . He woke up gradually. He was in a room that might have been any 67

Page 69

office, except the furniture was dif- ferent. That is, there was a box with doors on it that might have been a filing cabinet and a table that looked like a desk in spite of the single thin rod underneath the center that sup- ported it. However, there were no chairs — only small, flat cushions, on which three large, woolly, bearlike creatures were sitting and watching him in silence. He himself, he found, was in a chair, though. As soon as they saw his eyes were open, they turned away from him and began to talk among themselves. Eldridge Parker shook his head and blinked his eyes, and would have blinked his ears if that had been pos- sible. For the sounds the creatures were making were like nothing he had ever heard before; and yet he understood everything they were saying. It was an odd sensation, like a double-image earwise, for he heard the strange mouth-noises just as they came out and then something in his head twisted them around and made them into perfectly understandable English. Nor was that all. For, as he sat listening to the creatures talk, he began to get the same double image in another way. That is, he still saw the bearlike creature behind the desk as the weird sort of animal he was, out of the sound of his voice, or from something else, there gradually built up in Eldridge’s mind a picture of a thin, rather harassed-looking gray- haired man in something resembling a uniform, but at the same time not 68 quite a uniform. It was the sort of effect an army general might get if he wore his stars and a Sam Browne belt over a civilian double-breasted suit. Similarly, the other creature sit- ting facing the one behind the desk, at the desk’s side, was a young and black-haired man with something of the laboratory about him, and the creature further back, seated almost against the wall, was neither soldier nor scientist, but a heavy older man with a sort of book-won wisdom in him. "You see, commander,’’ the young one with the black-haired image was saying, "perfectly restored. At least on the physical and mental levels.’’ "Good, doctor, good,’’ the out- landish syllables from the one be- hind the desk translated themselves in Eldridge’s head. "And you say it . . . he, I should say . . . will be able to understand?’’ "Certainly, sir,’’ said the doctor- psychologist — whatever - he - was. "Identification is absolute — ’’ "But I mean comprehend — encom- pass— ’’ The creature behind the desk moved one paw slightly. "Follow what we tell him — ’’ The doctor turned his ursinoid head toward the third member of the group. This one spoke slowly, in a deeper voice. "The culture allows. Certainly.” The one behind the desk bowed slightly to the oldest one. "Certainly, Academician, cer- tainly.” They then fell silent, all looking ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 70

back at Eldridge, who returned their gaze with equivalent interest. There was something unnatural about the whole proceeding. Both sides were regarding the other with the com- pletely blunt and unshielded curiosity given to freaks. The silence stretched out. It be- came tinged with a certain embarrass- ment. Gradually a mutual recogni- tion arose that no one really wanted to be the first to address an alien being directly. "It ... he is comfortable?” asked the commander, turning once more to the doctor. 'T should say so,” replied the doc- tor, slowly. "As far as we know. . . .” Turning back to Eldridge, the commander said, "Eldridgetimothy- parker, I suppose you wonder where you are?” Caution and habit put a clamp on Eldridge’s tongue. He hesitated about answering so long that the comman- der turned in distress to the doctor, who reassured him with a slight movement of the head. "Well, speak up,” said the com- mander, "we’ll be able to understand you, just as you’re able to understand us. Nothing’s going to hurt you; and anything you say won’t have the slightest effect on your . . . er . . . situation.” He paused again, looking at El- dridge for a comment. Eldridge still held his silence, but one of his hands unconsciously made a short, fumbling motion at his breast pocket. "My pipe — ” said Eldridge. The three looked at each other. They looked back at Eldridge. "We have it,” said the doctor. "After a while we may give it back to you. For now ... we cannot allow . . . it would not suit us.” "Smoke bother you?” said El- dridge, with a touch of his native canniness. "It does not bother us. It is . . . merely . . . distasteful,” said the commander. "Let’s get on. I’m going to tell you where you are, first. You’re on a world roughly similar to your own, but many . . .” he hesitated, looking at the academician. "Light-years,” supplemented the deep voice. "... Light-years in terms of what a year means to you,” went on the commander, with growing briskness. "Many light-years distant from your home. We didn’t bring you here be- cause of any personal . . . dislike . . . or enmity for you; but for. . . .” "Observation,” supplied the doc- tor. The commander turned and bowed slightly to him, and was bowed back at in return. ". . . Observation,” went on the commander. "Now, do you under- stand what I’ve told you so far?” "I’m listening,” said Eldridge. "Very well,” said the commander. "I will go on. There is something about your people that we are very anxious to discover. We have been, and intend to continue, studying you to find it out. So far — I will admit quite frankly and freely — we have not found it; and the concensus among our best minds is that you, DANGER— HUMAN ! 69

Page 71

yourself, do not know ' what it is. Accordingly, we have hopes of . . . causing . . . you to discover it for yourself. And for us.” "Hey. . . .” breathed Eldridge. "Oh, you will be well treated. I assure you,” said the commander, hurriedly. "You have been well treated. You have been . . . but you did not know ... I mean you did not feel — ” "Can you remember any discom- fort since we picked you up?” asked the doctor, leaning forward. "Depends what you mean — ” "And you will feel none.” The doctor turned to the commander. "Perhaps I’m getting ahead of my- self?” "Perhaps,” said the commander. He bowed and turned back to El- dridge. "To explain — ^we hope you will discover our answer for it. We’re only going to put you in a position to work on it. Therefore, we’ve decided to tell you everything. First — the problem. Academician?” The oldest one bowed. His deep voice made the room ring oddly. "If you will look this way,” he said. Eldridge turned his head. The other raised one paw and the wall beside him dissolved into a maze of lines and points. "Do you know what this is?” "No,” said Eldridge. "It is,” rumbled the one called the academician, "a map of the known universe. You lack the training to read it in four dimensions, as it should be read. No matter. You will take my word for it ... it is a map. 70 A map covering hundreds of thou- sands of your light-years and mil- lions of your years.” He looked at Eldridge, who said nothing. "To go on, then. What we know of your race is based upon two sources of information. History. And Legend. The history is sketchy. It rests on archaeological discoveries for the most part. The legend is even sketchier and — fantastic.” He paused again. Still Eldridge guarded his tongue. "Briefly, there is a race that has three times broken out to overrun this mapped area of our galaxy and dominate other civilized cultures — until some inherent lack or weakness in the individual caused the com- ponent parts of this advance to die out. The periods of these outbreaks has always been disastrous for the dominated cultures and uniformly without benefit to the race I am talk- ing about. In the case of each out- break, though the home planet was destroyed and all known remnants of the advancing race hunted out, unknown seed communities remained to furnish the material for a new advance some thousands of years later. That race,” said the academi- cian, and coughed — or at least made some kind of noise in his throat, "is your own.” Eldridge watched the other care- fully and without moving. "We see your race, therefore,” went on the academician, and El- dridge received the mental impres- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 72

sion of an elderly man putting the tips of his fingers together judicious- ly, "as one with great or overwhelm- ing natural talents, but unfortunately also with one great natural flaw. This flaw seems to be a desire — almost a need — to acquire and possess things. To reach out, encompass, and ab- sorb. It is not,” shrugged the acade- mician, "a unique trait. Other races have it — but not to such an extent that it makes them a threat to their co-existing cultures. Yet, this in it- self is not the real problem. If it was a simple matter of rapacity, a com- bination of other races should be able to contain your people. There is a natural inevitable balance of that sort continually at work in the galaxy. No,” said the academician, and paused, looking at the com- mander. "Go on. Go on,” said the com- mander. The academician bowed. "No, it is not that simple. As a guide to what remains, we have only the legend, made anew and rein- forced after each outward sweep of you people. We know that there must be something more than we have found — and we have studied you carefully, both your home world and now you, personally. There must be something more in you, some genius, some capability above the normal, to account for the fantastic nature of your race’s previous suc- cesses. But the legend says only — Danger, Human! High Explosive. Do not touch — and we find nothing in you to justify the warning.” He sighed. Or at least Eldridge received a sudden, unexpected inti- mation of deep weariness. "Because of a number of factors — too numerous to go into and most of them not understandable to you — it is our race which must deal with this problem for the rest of the galaxy What can we do? We dare not leave you be until you grow strong and come out once more. And the legend expressly warns us against touching you in any way. So we have chosen to pick one — but I intrude upon your field, doctor.” The two of them exchanged bows. The doctor took up the talk speaking briskly and entirely to Eldridge. "A joint meeting of those of us best suited to consider the situation recommended that we pick up one specimen for intensive observation. For reasons of availability, you were the one chosen. Following your re- turn under drugs to this planet, you were thoroughly examined, by the best of medical techniques, both mentally and physically. I will not go into detail, since we have no wish to depress you unduly. I merely want to impress on you the fact that we found nothing. Nothing. No unusual power or ability of any sort, such as history shows you to have had and legend hints at. I mention this be- cause of the further course of action we have decided to take. Comman- der?” The being behind the desk got to his hind feet. The other two rose. "You will come with us,” said the commander. DANGER— HUMAN ! 71

Page 73

Herded by them, Eldridge went out through the room’s door into brilliant sunlight and across a small stretch of something like concrete to a stubby egg-shaped craft with ridic- ulous little wings. "Inside,” said the commander. They got in. The commander squat- ted before a bank of instruments, manipulated a simple sticklike con- trol, and after a moment the ship took to the air. They flew for per- haps half an hour, with Eldridge wishing he was in a position to see out one of the high windows, then landed at a field apparently literally hacked out of a small forest of mountains. Crossing this field on foot, El- dridge got a glimpse of some truly huge ships, as well as a number of smaller ones such as the one in which he had arrived. Numbers of the furry aliens moved about, none with any great air of hurry, but all with pur- posefulness. There was a sudden, single, thunderous sound that was gone almost before the ear could register it; and Eldridge, who had ducked instinctively, looked up again to see one of the huge ships falling — there is no other word for it — skyward with such unbelievable rapidity it was out of sight in sec- onds. The four of them came at last to a shallow, open trench in the stuff which made the field surface. It was less than a foot wide and they step- ped across it with ease. But once they had crossed it, Eldridge noticed a difference. In the five hundred yard 72 square enclosed by the trench — for it turned at riht angles off to his right and to his left — there was an air of tightly-established deserted- ness, as of some highly restricted area, and the rectangular concrete-looking building that occupied the square’s very center glittered unoccupied in the clear light. They marched to the door of this building and it opened without any of them touching it. Inside was per- haps twenty feet of floor, stretching inward as a rim inside the walls. Then a sort of moat — Eldridge could not see its depth — filled with a dark fluid with a faint, sharp odor. This was perhaps another twenty feet wiile an enclosed a small, flat island per- haps fifteen feet by fifteen feet, al- most wholly taken up by a cage whose walls and ceiling appeared to be made of metal bars as thick as a man’s thumb and spaced about six inches apart. Two more of the aliens, wearing a sort of harness and hold- ing a short, black tube apiece, stood on the ledge of the outer rim. A temporary bridge had been laid across the moat, protruding through the open door of the cage. They all went across the bridge and into the cage. There, standing around rather like a board of direc- tors viewing an addition to the com- pany plant, they faced Eldridge; and the commander spoke. "This will be your home from now on,” he said. He indicated the cot, the human-type chair and the other items furnishing the cage. "It’s ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 74

as comfortable as we can make it." "Why.?’’ burst out Eldridge, sud- denly. "Why’ re you locking me up here? Why—’’ "In our attempt to solve the prob- lem that still exists,” interrupted the doctor, smoothly, "we can do noth- ing more than keep you under ob- servation and hope that time will work with us. Also, we hope to in- fluence you to search for the solu- tion, yourself.” "And if I find it — what?” cried Eldridge. "Then,” said the commander, "we will deal with you in the kindest manner that the solution permits. It may be even possible to return you to your own world. At the very least, once you are no longer needed, we can see to it that you are quickly and painlessly destroyed.” Eldridge felt his insides twist within him. "Kill me?” he choked. "You think that’s going to make me help you? The hope of getting killed?” They looked at him almost com- passionately. "You may lind,” said the doctor, "that death may be something you will want very much, only for the purpose of putting a close to a life you’ve become weary of. Look,” — he gestured around him — ^"you are lock- ed up beyond any chance of ever escaping. This cage will be illumi- nated night and day; and you will be locked in it. When we leave, the bridge will be withdrawn, and the only thing crossing that moat — which is filled with acid — ^will be a mechan- DANGER— HUMAN ! 73

Page 75

ical arm which will extend across and through a small opening to bring you food twice a day. Beyond the moat, there will be two armed guards on duty at all time, but even they cannot open the door to this build- ing. That is opened by remote con- trol from outside, only after the operator has checked on his vision screen to make sure all is as it should be inside here.” He gestured through the bars, across the moat and through a win- dow in the outer wall. "Look out there,” he said. Eldridge looked. Out beyond, and surrounding the building, the shallow trench no longer lay still and empty under the sun. It now spouted a ver- tical wall of flickering, weaving dis- tortion, like a barrier of heat waves. "That is our final defense, the ultimate in destructiveness that our science provides us — it would liter- ally burn you to nothingiress, if you touched it. It will be turned off only for seconds, and with elaborate precautions, to let guards in, or out.” Eldridge looked back in, to see them all watching him. "We do this,” said the doctor, "not only because we may discover you to be more dangerous than you seem, but to impress you with your helplessness so that you may be more ready to help us. Here you are, and here you will stay.” "And you think," demanded El- dridge hoarsely, "that this’s all going to make me want to help you?” "Yes,” said the doctor, "because there’s one thing more tliat enters 74 into the situation. You were literally taken apart physically, after your capture; and as literally put back to- gether again. We are advanced in the organic field, and certain things are true of all life forms. I supervised the work on you, myself. You will find that you are, for all practical purposes immortal and irretrievably sane. This will be your home for- ever, and you will find that neither death nor insanity will provide you a way of escape.” They turned and filed out. From some remote control, the cage door was swung shut. He heard it click and lock. The bridge was withdrawn from the moat. A screen lit up aiul a woolly face surveyed the building’s interior. The building’s door opened. They went out; and the guards took up their patrol, around the rim in oppo- site directions, keeping their eyes on Eldridge and their weapons ready in their hands. The building’s door closed again. Outside, the flickering wall blinked out for a second and then returned again. The silence of a warm, summer, mountain afternoon descended upon the building. The footsteps of the guards made shuffling noises on their path around the rim. The bars en- closed him. Eldridge stood still, holding the bars in both hands and looking out. He could not believe it. He could not believe it as the days piled up into weeks, and the weeks into months. But as the seasons shift- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 76

ed and the year came around to a new year, the realities of his situa- tion began to soak into him like water into a length of dock piling. For outside, Time could be seen at its visible and regular motion; but in his prison, there was no Time. Always, the lights burned over- head, always the guards paced about him. Always the barrier burned be- yond the building, the meals came swinging in on the end of a long metal arm extended over the moat and through a small hatchway which opened automatically as the arm approached; regularly, twice weekly, the doctor came and checked him over, briefly, impersonally — and went out again with the changing of the guard. He felt the unbearableness of his situation, like a hand winding tighter and tighter day by day the spring of tension within him. He took to pac- ing feverishly up and down the cage. He went back and forth, back and forth, until the room swam. He lay awake nights, staring at the endless glow of illumination from the ceil- ing. He rose to pace again. The doctor came and examined him. He talked to Eldridge, but El- dridge would not answer. Finally there came a day when everything split wide open and he began to howl and bang on the bars. The guards were frightened and called the doctor. The doctor came, and with two others, entered the cage and strapped him down. They did something odd that hurt at the back of his neck and he passed out. DANGER— HUMAN ! When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the doc- tor’s woolly face, looking down at him — he had learned to recognize that countenance in the same way a sheep-hearder eventually comes to recognize individual sheep in his flock. Eldridge felt very weak, but calm. "You tried hard — ” said the doc- tor. "But you see, you didn’t make it. There’s no way out that way for you.” Eldridge smiled. "Stop that!” said the doctor sharply. "You aren’t fooling us. We know you’re perfectly rational.” Eldridge continued to smile. "What do you think you’re doing?” demanded the doctor. El- dridge looked happily up at him. 'Tm going home,” he said. "Em sorry,” said the doctor. "You don’t convince me.” He turned and left. Eldridge turned over on his side and dropped off into the first good sleep he’d had in months. In spite of himself, however, the doctor was worried. He had the guards doubled, but nothing happen- ed. The days slipped into weeks again and nothing happened. El- dridge was apparently fully recover- ed. He still spent a great deal of time walking up and down his cage and grasping the bars as if to pull them out of the way before him — but the frenzy of his earlier pacing was gone. He had also moved his cot over next to the small, two-foot square, hatch that opened to admit 75

Page 77

the mechanical arm bearing his meals, and would lie there, with his face pressed against it, waiting for the food to be delivered. The doctor felt uneasy, and spoke to the com- mander privately about it. "Well,” said the commander, "just what is it you suspect?” "I don’t know,” confessed the doctor. "It’s just that I see him more frequently than any of us. Perhaps I’ve become sensitized — but he both- ers me.” "Bothers you?” "Frightens me, perhaps. I wonder if we’ve taken the right way with him.” "We took the only w'ay.” The commander made the little gesture and sound that was his race’s equiv- alent of a sigh. "We must have data. What do you do when you run across a possibly dangerous virus, doctor? You isolate it — for study, until you know. It is not possible, and too risky to try to study his race at close hand, so we study him. That’s all we’re doing. You lose objectivity, doctor. Would you like to take a short vaca- tion?” "No,” said the doctor, slowly. "No. But he frightens me.” Still, time went on and nothing happened. Eldridge paced his cage and lay on his cot, face pressed to the bars of the hatch, and staring at the outside world. Another year passed; and another. The double guards were withdrawn. The doctor came reluctantly to the conclusion that the human had at a last accepted 76 the fact of his confinement and felt growing within him that normal sort of sympathy that feeds on familiarity. He tried to talk to Eldridge on his regularly scheduled visits, but El- dridge showed little interest in con- versation. He lay on the cot watch- ing the doctor as the doctor exam- ined him, with something in his eyes as if he looked on from some dis- tant place in which all decisions were already made and finished. "You’re as healthy as ever,” said the doctor, concluding his examina- tion. He regarded Eldridge. "I wi.sh you would, though. . . .” He broke off. "We aren’t a cruel people, you know. We don’t like the necessity — that makes us do this.” He paused. Eldridge considered him without stirring. "If you’d accept that fact,” saiil the doctor, "I’m sure you’d make it easier on yourself. Possibly our figures of speech have given you a false impression. We said you arc immortal. Well, of course, that’s not true. Only practically speaking, are you immortal. You are now capable of living a very, very, very long time. That’s all.” He paused again. After a moment of waiting, he went on. "Just the same way, this business isn’t really intended to go on for eternity. By its very nature, of course, it can’t. Even races have a finite lifetime. But even that would be too long. No, it’s just a matter of a long time as you might live it. Eventually, everything must come to a conclusion — that’s inevitable.” ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 78

Eldridge still did not speak. The doctor sighed. "Is there anything you’d like?” he said. "We’d like to make this as little unpleasant as possible. Any- thing we can give you?” Eldridge opened his mouth. "Give me a boat,” he said. "I want a fishing rod. I want a bottle of applejack.” The doctor shook his head sadly. He turned and signaled the guards. The cage door opened. He went out. "Get me some pumpkin pie,” cried Eldridge after him, sitting up on the cot and grasping the bars as the door closed. "Give me some green grass in here.” The doctor crossed the bridge. The bridge was lifted up and the monitor screen lit up. A woolly face looked out and saw that all was well. Slow- ly the outer door swung open. "Get me some pine trees!” yelled Eldridge at the doctor’s retreating back. "Get me some plowed fields I Get me some earth, some dirt, some plain, earth dirt! Get me ihcil!'' The door shut behind the doctor; and Eldridge burst into laughter, clinging to the bars, hanging there with glowing eyes. "I would like to be relieved of this job,” said the doctor to the com- mander, appearing formally in the latter’s office. "I’m sorry,” said the commander. "I’m very sorry. But it was our tacti- cal team that initiated this action; and no one has the experience with the prisoner you have. I’m sorry.” The doctor bowed his head; and went out. Certain mild but emotion-deaden- ing drugs were also known to the woolly, bearlike race. The doctor went out and began to indulge in them. Meanwhile, Eldridge lay on his cot, occasionally smiling to him- self. His position was such that he could see out the window and o\'er the weaving curtain of the barrier that ringed his building, to the land- ing field. After a while one of the large ships landed and when he saw the three members of its crew dis- embark from it and move, antlike off across the field toward the buildings at its far end, he smiled again. He settled back and closed his eyes. He seemed to doze for a couple of hours and then the sound of the door opening to admit the extra sin- gle guard bearing the food for his three o’clock mid-afternoon feeding. He sat up, pushed the cot down a ways, and sat on the end of it, wait- ing for the meal. The bridge was not extended — that happened only when someone physically was to enter his cage. The monitor screen lit up and a woolly face watched as the tray of food was loaded on the mechanical arm. It swung out across the acid-filled moat, stretched itself toward the cage, and under the vigilance of the face in the monitor, the two-foot square hatch opened just before it to let it extend into the cage. Smiling, Eldridge took the tray. The arm withdrew, as it cleared the DANGER— HUMAN ! 77

Page 79

cage, the hatch swung shut and locked. Outside the cage, guards, food carrier and face in the monitor relaxed. The food carrier turned to- ward the door, the face in the moni- tor looked down at some invisible control board before it and the outer door sv/ung open. In that moment, Eldridge moved. In one swift second he was on his feet and his hands had closed around the bars of the hatch. There was a single screech of metal, as — incredibly — he tore it loose and threw it aside. Then he was diving through the hatch opening. He rolled head over heels like a gymnast and came up with his feet standing on the inner edge of the moat. The acrid scent of the acid faintly burnt at his nostrils. He sprang forward in a standing jump, arms outstretched — and his clutch- ing fingers closed on the end of the food arm, now halfway in the process of its leisurely mechanical retraction across the moat. The metal creaked and bent, dip- ping downward toward the acid, but Eldridge was already swinging on- ward under the powerful impetus of his arms from which the sleeves had fallen back to reveal bulging ropes of smooth, powerful muscle. He flew forward through the air, feet first, and his boots took the nearest guard in the face, so that they crashed to the ground together. For a second they rolled entangled, then the guard flopped and Eldridge came up on one knee, holding the black tube of the guard’s weapon. 78 It spat a single tongue of flame and the other guard dropped. Eldridge thrust to his feet, turning to the still- open door. The door was closing. But the panicked food-carrier, unarmed, had turned to run. A bolt from Eldridge’s weapon took him in the back. He fell forward and the door jammed on his body. Leaping after him, El- dridge squeezed through the remain- ing opening. Then he was out under the free sky. The sounds of alarm screechers were splitting the air. He began to run — The doctor was already drugged — but not so badly that he could not make it to the field when the news came. Driven by a strange perversity of spirit, he went first to the prison to inspect the broken hatch and the bent food arm. He traced Eldridge’s outward path and it led him to the landing field where he found the commander and the academician by a bare, darkened area of concrete. They acknowledged his presence by little bows. "He took a ship here.?’’ said the doctor. "He took a ship here,’’ said the commander. There was a little silence between them. '"Well,’’ said the academician, "we have been answered.’’ "Have we?’’ the commander look- ed at them almost appealingly. "There’s no chance — that it was just chance? No chance that the hatch ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 80

just happened to fail — and he acted without thinking, and was lucky?” The doctor shook his head. He felt a little dizzy and unnatural from the drug, but the ordinary processes of his thinking were unimpaired. "The hinges of the hatch,” he said, "were rotten — eaten away by acid.” "Acid?” the commander stared at him. "Where would he get acid?” "From his own digestive processes — regurgitated and spat directly into the hinges. He secreted hydrochloric acid among other things. Not too powerful — but over a period of time. . . .” "Still — ” said the commander, des- perately, "I think it must have been more luck than otherwise.” "Can you believe that?” asked the academician. "Consider the timing of it all, the choosing of a moment when the food arm was in the proper position, the door open at the proper angle, the guard in a vulnerable situ- ation. Consider his unhesitating and sure use of a weapon — ^which could only be the fruits of hours of ob- servation, his choice of a moment when a fully supplied ship, it’s drive unit not yet cooled down, was wait- ing for him on the field. No,” he shook his woolly head, "we have been answered. We put him in an escape-proof prison and he escaped.” "But none of this was impossible!” cried the commander. The doctor laughed, a fuzzy, drug- blurred laugh. He opened his mouth but the academician was before him. "It’s not what he did,” said the academician, "but the fact that he did it. No member of another culture that we know would have even en- tertained the possibility in their minds. Don’t you see — ^he disregard- ed, he denied the fact that escape was impossible. That is what makes h's kind so fearful, so dangerous. The fact that something is impos- sible presents no barrier to their seeking minds. That, alone, places them above us on a plane we can never reach.” "But it’s a false premise!” protect- ed the commander. "They cannot contravene natural laws. They are still bound by the physical order of the universe.” The doctor laughed again. His laugh had a wild quality. The com- mander looked at him. "You’re drugged,” he said. "Yes,” choked the doctor. "And I’ll be more drugged. I toast the end of our race, our culture, and our order.” "Hysteria!” said the commander. "Hysteria?” echoed the doctor. "No — guilt! Didn’t we do it, we three ? The legend told us not to touch them, -not to set a spark to the explosive mixture of their kind. And we went ahead and did it, you, and you, and I. And now we’ve sent forth an enemy — safely into the safe hiding place of space, in a ship that can take him across the galaxy, sup- plied with food to keep him for years, rebuilt into a body that will not die, with star charts and all the keys to understand our cultiue and locate his hoiue again, using the DANGER— HUMAN ! 79

Page 81

ability to learn we have encouraged in him.” "I say,” said the commander, dog- gedly, "he is not that dangerous— yet. So far he has done nothing one of us could not do, had we enter- tained the notion. He’s shown noth- ing, nothing supernormal.” "Hasn’t he.^” said the doctor thickly. "What about the defensive screen — our most dangerous most terrible weapon — that could burn him to nothingness if he touched it?” The commander stared at him. "But — ” said the commander. "The screen was shut off, of course, to let the food carrier out, at the same time the door was opened. I assumed — ” "I checked,” said the doctor, his eyes burning on the commander. "They turned it on again before he could get out.” THE Statement of the Ownership, Man- agement, and Circulation required by the Act of Congress of August 24, 1 91 2, as amended by the Acts of March 3, 1933, and July 2, 1946 {Title 39, United States Code, Section 233) of Astounding Science Fiction published monthly, at New York, N. Y., for October 1, 1957. 1 . The ncmes and addresses of the publisher, edi- tor, managing editor, and business managers are; Publishers, Street & Smith Publications, Inc., 575 Madison. Avenue, New York 22, N. Y.; editor, John W. Campbell, Jr., 575 Madison Avenue, New York 22, N. Y.; manoging editor, none; business mon- oger, none. 2. The owners are: Street & Smith Publications, Inc., 575 Madison Avenue, New York 22, N. Y., a 80 "But he d/d get out! You don’t mean . . .” the commander’s voice faltered and dropped. The three stood caught in a sudden silence like stone. Slowly, as if drawn by strings controlled by an invisible hand, they turned as one to stare up into the empty sky and space beyond. "You mean — ” the commander’s voice tried again, and died. "Exactly!” whispered the doctor. Halfway across the galaxy, a child of a sensitive race cried out in its sleep and clutched at its mother. "I had a bad dream,” it whim- pered. "Hush,” said its mother. "Hush.” But she lay still, staring at the ceil- ing. She, too, had dreamed. Somewhere, Eldridge was .smiling at the stars. END corporation owned through stock holdings by Vir- ginia A. Cluett, Arthur P. Lawler and Arthur Z. Gray, Executors u/w Gerald H. Smith, 575 Madison Avenue, New York 22, N. Y., Ormond V. Gould, 575 Madison Avenue, New York 22, N. Y. 3. The known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 percent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other se- curities are: None. 4. Paragraphs 2 and 3 include, in cases where Iho stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or In any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting; also the statements in the two paragraphs show the affiant’s full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company os trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner. ARTHUR P. LAWLER, Secretary of Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Sworn to end subscribed before me this 30th doy of September, 1957. William A. Norris, Jr., Notary Public. No. 30-8158000, Nassau County. (My com- mission expires March 30, 1958.) ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 82

CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY Conclusion. The chains of a slave are put on from the outside; they can be broken, and the slave win to freedom. But there’s a different kind of binding that’s anchored where no man can break it... and such men are slaves beyond rescue! BY ROBERT A. HEINLEIN Illustrated by van Dongen SYNOPSIS A slave auction was going on in the Great Plaza of fubbulpore. The merchandise noiv on the block teas almost worthless — a young boy, starved and covered with sores, feral from too many masters and too many whips, ground-sick after light-years in the hold of a slaver, the auc- tioneer knocked down this damaged chattel for small change to an old beggar, rather than annoy nobles and ladies by holding up the sale. BASLIM THE BEGGAR (one- eyed, one-legged, gaunt and aged) took his slave home to a burroiv un- der the ruins of the old amphitheater. He washed, bandaged, and fed the child, won his confidence, learned that his name was THORBY — but that ivas all, for THORBY, even un- der hypnosis, knew nothing of his people or his planet. His only iden- tification teas a slave-factor’s serial number tattooed on a thigh. Years of abuse had made the boy fumpy as a stray dog, beset by nightmares; BASLIM slowly straightened him out with hypnotherapy and firm kind- ness. BASLIM trained THORBY as a beggar. Daily they made their pitch together in the Great Plaza of fub- bulpore. fubbulpore is a metropolis almost © Robert A. Heinlein, 1957. CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 81

Page 83

unknown to civiUzation; there has been little or no intercourse icith any of the Nine Worlds since they broke with the mother planet. But Jub- bulpore is the Sargon’s capital and is a big and bustling place, techni- cally advanced and politically deca- dent, corrupt throughout. As a beggar THORBY learned the ways of an underworld, but in the privacy of their hideaway BASLIM taught him many other things — languages, mathematics , science, his- tory, and galactography. BASLIM sternly and forcefully required THORBY to study and helped him along both through advanced train- ing aids and through the ancient T er- ran mental discipline of "renshaw- ing.” Under such tutoring THORBY acquired an exceptionally broad edu- cation. THORBY tvas too young when this started to see anything strange in a penniless old beggar owning ex- pensive teaching equipment, or in his being able to tutor complex subjects. As the years passed he gradually be- came aware of these contradictions but they did not worry him — Pop tvas Pop and could do anything. THORBY made the same adjustment 82 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 84

to his discovery that Pop had other activities besides begging, business which took him out at night disguised as a nobleman, complete with false leg, false eye, and finery. Anyone more sophisticated would have known that BASLIM was engaged in some- thing illegal and probably treasonable to the Sargon; to THORBY, anything Pop did was all right. BASLIM — or "Pop” — was the foundation of his world. BASLIM used THORBY as a secret courier inside the city and also to deliver messages to skippers of FREE TRADERS, tramp merchant CITIZEN OP THE GALAXY starships which visit not only ports of the Nine Worlds but also ports throughout the frontiers of the ex- plored sector of the galaxy mcluding colony worlds of the Terratt Hegem- ony. BASLIM tried to arrange to have THORBY shipped out to a free world via one of these tramp ships, but THORBY bitterly re- fused— he did not want to leave Pop. BASLIM tvas much worried about what would happen to his adopted son on his death. Unable to per- suade the boy to leave him, he took two steps: he granted his slave manu- 7nission and had him recorded as a freedman — and he itnplanted in THORBY a message tvhicb must be delivered to any one of five skip- pers of FREE TRADERS after BASLIM’S death. The tnessage was in a language not known to THOR- BY ; the old man used hypnopedia to make him letter perfect. When THORBY had reached gangling adolescence, man-tall but not filled out, a dust-up occurred in which he was almost captured by the Sargon’ s police ivhile trying to deliver one of BASLIM’S secret mes- sages to a man in the Sargon’ s star- ship dockyards. The incident did not worry THORBY — as a gutter rat a brush with the snoopies was all in the day’s work to him — but it caused the old beggar to hurry home and start destroying records. That night he implanted a very long mes- sage in code in the hoy’s brain by hypnopedia. The next day BASLIM ivas ab- 83

Page 85

sent; THORBY made his pitch in the Plaza alone. For years it had al- ways been his responsibility, in Pop’s absence, to keep careful track of slave auctions and of the arrivals and de- partures of starships, especially slavers. That day the Free Trader SISU grounded; it was not a slaver hut its skipper tvas one of the five to whom THORBY must deliver a mes- sage— someday, when BASLIM tvas dead. THORBY decided to go home and tell Pop of its arrival. He found the ruins in which they lived staked out by police; THORBY evaded them and reached their under- ground home. It had been searched, and wrecked — and Pop’s false leg lay smashed on the floor. Once the first stunning shock had worn off THORBY undertook the impossible task of finding Pop and freeing him front the Sargon’s police. He sneaked hack to the honky-tonk area between the Plaza and the spaceport — only to receive a worse shock there, for he learned that BASLIM was already dead, having suicided before the police could ques- tion him. The additional fact that there was notv a reward out on THORBY’S head as well hardly made an impres- sion on him — save that he must, somehow, avoid arrest until he could deliver BASLIM’S message to the skipper of Starship SISU. THORBY managed to hide with MOTHER SHAUM, disreputable owner of an even less reputable ho- tel; for the sake of her old friend BASLIM she arranged a meeting 84 with the skipper of the SISU. CAP- TAIN KRAUSA was shocked and incredulous to hear that BASLIM was dead. He interrupted THOR- BY’S reciting of the message. "Is that true?” "Is what true?” demanded MOTHER SHAUM. "1 don’t under- stand that yammer.” "Oh, sorry — it’s my otvn language. The lad is telling me that an old beg- gar who called himself ' Basil m the Cripple’ is dead. Well?" "Oh. Of course it's true. And a sorry thing it is, too.” "Yes. It is.” CAPTAIN KRAUSA looked at THORBY. "'Debts are always paid,’ ” he said slowly. ''BAS- LIM says that I am to take you u'ith me. Are you ready?” THORBY gulped. "Yes, sir. If that’s what Pop wanted.” MOTHER SHAUM looked shock- ed. "Are you two crazy? The street is crawling ivith police!” MOTHER SHAUM, CAPTAIN KRAUSA, and much bribery got THORBY aboard the SISU — crated as a bale of verga leaves. In only a few million miles THORBY became convinced that he had made a mistake. His stateroom in the Starship Sisu was luxurious and the food served to him there was wonderful — but nobody spoke to him; they looked right through him. This ivas the lowest he had ever sunk. Even a slave has equals. Sisu’j- only passenger DR. MAR- GARET MADER, an anthropologist from inside the Terran Hegemony, explained the matter to THORBY. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 86

The FREE TRADERS are an in- group as tight and as proud as has ever been seen. They classify the human race as "The People” ( them- selves ) and "fraki” ( everybody else ) — a term more insulting than "pig” or "louse” and carrying the connota- tion of "earthcrawler,” one who never goes into space. Since THOR- BY himself was a "fraki” he was more thoroughly untouchable than a leper of Biblical times. But before THORBY could fret too much about this he foimd him- self suddenly and with impressive ritual adopted into "The People” as a foster son of CAPTAIN KRAUSA, by order of GRANDMOTHER KRAUSA, CHIEF OFFICER of Sisu, a grim bedridden old tyrant. Unknotvn to THORBY, BASLIMT message to CAPTAIN KRAUSA could be construed as a request to do this — and debts are always paid; Sisu always pays debts in full. So THORBY found himself not only no longer "fraki” but also fairly senior in the clan and sept of Sisu. A FREE TRADER ship is organ- ized both as a family and as a ship; both forms of organization are enor- mously important to "The People” and are complicated by ritualistic obligations and obligatory forms of address. The anthropologist DR. MARGARET MADER helped THORBY to get straightened out in these matters by letting him use the scientific notes and charts she had prepared — she then explained to him that these excessive formalities, which the born members of Sisu family seemed to use almost by in- stinct, were the necessary lubrication of a society so artificial, so tightly packed into a ship, so constantly in each others’ company, that without them they would be at each others’ throats. As it was, Sisu was a smoothly working family and family business. She pointed out to him that the laws of the People required a man to marry outside his immediate rela- tives but inside the People — THOR- BY could marry any female in the ship who had been adopted into it but not a female born inside the ship. She pointed out to him on the cla72 chart the females who were not taboo to him. Her explanations greatly speeded up his understanding of the odd society he ivas in, but the notion that he was expected, eventually, to marry one of the non-taboo females just made him nervous. He had no time to worry, however, as he was put hard at work in trainmg for fire- controlman on the starboard ballistic computer. The ships of "The Peo- ple,” like all starships, are powered by fusion reaction and are capable of enormous acceleration, necessary to let them get quickly up to speed- of-light and pass into irrational, multi-dimensional space. Since they operate out beyond the law of the Terran Hegemony there is always the possibility that they may be jumped, before reaching speed-of-light, by a bandit-slavetrader; the FREE TRAD- ERS, like many before them m the CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 85

Page 87

bloody history of the human race, are armed merchantmen. The sound training BASLIM had given him in higher mathematics caused THORBY to be chosen for training for this aivesome and in- dispensable job. His teacher tvas his foster nephew JERI KINGSOLVER, who, with his younger sister MATA, manned the starboard fire-control room. JERI and MATA ivere junior to THORBY in family rank, senior to him in ship’s rank — -and he was never allotved to forget either rela- tionship. Worse than this, this pretty little girl who sat beside THORBY at gunnery drills was a crack fire- controlman, able to do easily and perfectly the almost-impossible prob- lems of sub-light-speed ballistics — problems tvhich THORBY was find- ing almost superhumanly difficult. The graveling fact that MATA regularly beat THORBY at combat drill finally caused him to bloiv his top — and earned him nothing hut a thorough eating-out by his nephetv JERI and some extra drill. For days thereafter THORBY was stiffly for- 7nal with MATA and JERI — ships’ ranks at drill, family ranks at other times, all behind a wall of ritual as prescribed in the Laws of Sisu. Little MATA broke the ice by humbly asking her "uncle” to play spat ball with her one day during recreation hours. THORBY loosened up, got better at his work, spent much social time with MATA — and eventually ciualified as a junior fire- controlman . . . and all three of them got back on first-name terms again. On the planet Losian, tvhich is inhabited by nonhuman civilized creatures, THORBY’x "FATHER” CAPTAIN KRAUSA took him dirt- side on a business trip and talked with him. CAPTAIN KRAUSA is worried because BASLIM’j injunc- tion had required him to try to identify this orphan boy and to re- store him to his own blood by en- trusting THORBY at first opportu- nity to a ship of the Hegemonic Guard — and it was noiv becoming evident to him that his mother, the CHIEF OFFICER, had no intention of parting tvith THORBY. THOR- BY was already old enough to he (barely) eligible for marriage; it tvould be confoundedly awkward if the lad married before he^ KRAUSA, had a chance to carry out the rest of BASLIM' j injunction I But he could not speak of these matters to his foster son because the CHIEF OFFICER held a different opinion. CAPTAIN KRAUSA let it go with suggesting to THORBY that he not get himself tied down to one girl until he had a chance to meet other girls at the corning Great Gathering — an occasion at ten-year intervals when as many ships of the People as possible make rendezvous for business and pleasure. This suited THORBY; he had no matrimonial intentions at all. When they returned to the ship, THORBY found his foster nepheiv JERI acting glum; he demanded to know why. ,86 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 88

"MATA has been swapped.” The news shocked THORBY. "Why? When? What happened?” "While you were dirtside. To El Nido, of course; she’ s the only ship of the People in port. Grandmother just swapped her — no warning at all.” "But why?" JERI looked scornful. "You can’t figure it out? You are the reason my sister got swapped!” "Me?” "Who else? She’s been chasing you, you dim wit — aitd it’s just not possible; if s taboo.” THORBY took his troubles to DR. MARGARET MADER, found her preparing to leave also; she was about to go home via El Nido. He got explanations from her, but little comfort. Yes, it was true that little MATA had been no blood relation- ship to him; nevertheless she was taboo under the laws of the People . . . and GRANDMOTHER KRAUSA had been perfectly right in shipping out a girl who seemed in danger of breaking the taboos. There was no such thing as a "little” break in taboo; the social system and the very safety of the ship lay in holding fast to their traditions. It did not matter that THORBY had never had any slightest intention to- ward MATA; the only safe thing to do was to place some light-years be- tween them. THORBY did not understand it and DR. MADER quit trying to ex- plain. "1 doubt if your Grandmother understands it either — she just knows CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY what is good for her family and her ship. THORBY . . . I once thought that you would adjust to this life. Notv I’m not sure — you’ve been free too long. Freedom is a hard habit to break.” "Huh?” "You’ve had violent dislocations. Your first foster father, BASLIM THE WISE, bought you as a slave and made you free, as free as he was. Now CAPTAIN KRAUSA, tvith the best intentions, adopted you and thereby made you a slave.” "Why, thafs preposterous!” "Is it? Oh, ’The People’ are free . . . more free than the stars; this old galaxy has never seen such free- dom. But at what price? I’ll tell you: freedom itself. The People have bought freedom for themselves as a people at the price of the loss of individual freedom for each and every one of you. 1 am beginning to be afraid that you will never get used to it, THORBY; you’ve been free too long. If you ever find that you agree with me, wait until Sisu touches down at some pla::et that is free and democratic and human- then hit dirt and run! But do it be- fore Grandmother decides to marry you off — because if you wait that long, you’re lost!” THORBY missed both MATA and DR. MADER, but there was so much work to do and so much to learn, so many interesting new plan- ets to see, that they gradually faded from his mind. Sisu tvent skipping around the unmarked frontiers of the nine hundred light-year globe , of 87

Page 89

the Terran Hegemony, Losian, Fin- ster, Thoth IV, Woolamurra . . . get- ting ever closer to Hekate where the Great Gathering of the People was to be held. The ship took on a feverish carnival air as preparations were made to support the great pride of Sisu among the many ships of the People. THORBY had no special talents; he would not represent his ship in the games, so he was drafted as an actor — to his utter amazement. He was picked for the leading role, that of the first CAPTAIN KRAUS A, generations hack, in a play called "The Spirit of Sisu." Playing opposite him, as his "wife," was LOEEN GARCIA, a dark beauty received from El Nido in exchange for MATA. It all upset THORBY very much, especially when the stage instruc- tions required him to kiss LOEEN right in front of GRANDMOTHER and everybody — this was totally for- eign to his experience. But GRAND- MOTHER was pleased and that set- tled it. THORBY had become an impor- tant man in another fashion; he had "burned" his first raider. The attack had come while the portside ballistic computer was out of service; the burden had fallen on THORBY alone, he had saved his ship and his family. A formal dinner, as required by custom, teas held in his honor, but THORBY did not enjoy it — - }70t only did it force him to eat with GRANDMOTHER KRAUSA — which scared him — but also he did not feel like a hero. THORBY suf- 88 fered from the common emotional conflict of believing that certain things — such as killing in self- defense — were necessary — but was nevertheless acutely distressed at the gory fact. When the ship called at Woola- murra both THORBY and his foster father CAPTAIN KRAUSA were much disturbed. Woolamurra is pre- cisely the sort of planet DR. MADER had suggested to THORBY : "... Hit dirt and run I” It is human, free, democratic, rich in natural resources, and even today so sparsely settled that a7sy immigrant tvith two hands and a willingness to tvork is wel- come . . . and THORBY had become uncomfortably aivare that GRAND- MOTHER was throwing LOEEN GARCIA at him quite as firmly as she had removed MATA from his neighborhood. DR. MADER’s warn- ing echoed in his ears. He had no %1'ish to tie himself down, but he doubted his oivn ability to stand against GRANDMOTHER’S iron will . . . and the situation was not made any safer by the fact that he actually did find LOEEN attractive. CAPTAIN KRAUSA ivas worried by the same thmg but for stronger reasons. He was atvare that his moth- er was trying to iveld THORBY to the ship by means of LOEEN — but also his conscience was hurting him because a Hegemonic Mail Courier was in port with them: under the injunction laid on him by BASLIM the lad should be transferred to it . . . and his another would not listen to the idea. Under the matriarchal ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 90

customs of the People the chief offi- cer bossed practically everything but the actual conning of the ship. While the captain was trying to screw up his courage to buck his mother’s will, THORBY was trying to make up his mind to desert — and decided that he could not; he owed too much to his foster father, too much to all of Sisu. Their problems suddenly were changed if not resolved; GRAND- MOTHER died on W oolamurra . . . quietly in her sleep. THORBY was surprised to find that this grim, tyrannical old woman, whom he had feared and never liked, had been the strength that held the ship together. Her death left him feeling lost ... as was the case with his brothers, sisters, cousins, and kin. But THORBY’s stveet and gentle foster mother succeeds to chief offi- cer . . . and has, he discovered, the same stern stuff in her; Sisu does not die. The ship left Woolamurra and joined the Great Gathering on Hek- ate. THORBY was swept up in the enormous carnival while his elders were equally busy with more serious matters of business, politics among the People, and the money problems of financing a new ship to let the clan Sisu expand — and CAPTAIN KRAUS A quickly learned that his new chief officer, his wife RHODA, was even tougher to handle than his mother had been. CAPTAIN KRAUSA took advantage of the Gathering to search the vital records of the People’s flagship in hopes of proving that THORBY was actually born among the People before he was stolen and enslaved — if he could prove this it would free him of the obligation to BASLIM to turn THORBY over to the Hegemonic Guard. He was not successful. THORBY was not of the People; he was born fraki. The records proved it — and "Debts are always paid!’’ RHODA KRAUSA was not im- pressed by this mere technicality; THORBY had been adopted into Sisu and it ivas utterly unthinkable to her that one of her sons should be turned over to fraki for any reason ■ — and besides, she firmly intended to use THORBY politically to cause her husband to be elected commo- dore, or at least deputy commodore, of all the People . . . for the "debt that must be paid’’ is an important one to all the People: long ago BASLIM saved a FREE TRADER ship, the Hansea — and Sisu in adopt- ing THORBY, BASLIM’s foster son, had assumed the debt and had there- by placed every ship of the People under obligation to Sisu. RHODA KRAUSA intended to play this ad- vantage for all it was worth. And her husband just as stub- bornly intended to carry out BAS- LIM’s instructions to the letter. He accomplished his purpose by sneaking THORBY away from the Gathering, over to Hekate’s military port, and into the Guard' Cruiser Hydra, fust before they reached the Hydra KRAUSA had THORBY r^- cite again the message BASLIM had CITIZEN OP THE GALAXY 89

Page 91

long ago sent to KRAUSA — THOR- BY had not understood the language when he had first delivered it, but now he uderstood it and realized tvhy his foster father had brought him here. With sudden great sorrow THORBY accepted BASLIM’s plans for him. CAPTAIN KRAUSA said to COLONEL BRISBY, commanding officer of Guard Cruiser Hydra, ’’Colonel, may 1 ask what year you graduated?.. ..’’Eh?” The colonel teas startled. ” Oh-Eight. Why do you ask?” ”1 think you can answer that. This lad is THORBY BASLIM, adopted son of COLONEL RICHARD BAS- LIM. The colonel asked me to deliver him to you.” The confusion this announcement produced in THORBY’s brain teas very great. Pop a colonel.^ A colonel in the fraki Hegemonic Guard? But Pop was BASLIM the Beggar, li- censed mendicant under the mercy of .. . BRISBY told, him sharply to sit dotmi. It kept him from fainting. A day later THORBY found him- self a freshly-enlisted boot guards- man, that being COLONEL BRIS- BY's solution to the complicated problem of hoiv to accomplish an extensive identity search on him while keeping him aboard, all this to carry out the old beggar’s wishes — for THORBY finally was forced to admit that Pop really had been a member of the Guard, impossible as it seemed. He cared little or nothing about finding his otvn family but he tvas grateful at the chance to join Pop’s old ozitfit. THORBY realized almost at once that he must deliver to COLONEL BRISBY the coded message Pop had mplanted in him by hypnosis just be- fore he died. Decoded, the message was a detailed analysis of the slave trade in the Nine Worlds, its eco- nomic background, and its probable connections inside the Hegemony of Terra. COLONEL RICHARD BASLIM had been a dedicated man, one who hated slavery with a pure hatred. He had lost a leg and an eye in a raid which rescued a ship- load of slave.<;—TmE TRADERS, the clan Hansea — then, umvilling to rest in retirement, had volunteered to do espionage for the Exotic Corps — and had spent his old age as BASLIM THE BEGGAR, gathering facts ivhich could some day destroy the slave trade. On authorization by the Exotic Corps— or ”X” Corps— COLONEL BRISBY continued to question THORBY about BASLIM’s methods, while the Hydra cruised toward Ultima Thule. In the meantime THORBY slowly became a Guards- man in fact and eventually ivas pro- moted to acting ordnanceman i/c, largely because of his training in ballistics acquired in Sisu. At long last a report came back from Guard Supreme Headquarters on Terra: GUARDSMAN THORBY BASLIM can720t be identified in the vital rec- ords of any civilized planet and is not a native of Hekate as alleged in his enlistment papers; Hydra is di- 90 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 92

reefed to transfer him to the nearest receiving station for retransfer to Hekate, for investigation, and dis- position. COLONEL BRISBY sadly called THORBY in and shotved him the dispatch. BRISBY felt as if he had let BASLIM dotvn—and THORBY felt stunned . . . lost and alone again, as if he ivere again about to he sold as a chattel, for he had come to be- lieve BRISBY’s assurances that his identification was just a matter of time. While in this stunned condition THORBY got into a fight tvith an- other petty officer and was busted back to Guardsman 3 /c. Shortly thereafter BRISBY recalled one more possibility for identification — and sent in THORBY’s footprints, the usual way of identifying a very young child before the full routine of fingerprints, retinal pattern, et cetera, has been accomplished. This time a dispatch came back at once: GUARDSMAN THORBY BASLIM IDENTIFIED MISSING PERSON THOR BRADLEY RUD- BEK TERRA NOT HEKATE TRANSFER RUDBEK FASTEST MILORCOM TERRA DISCHARGE ARRIVAL NEXT KIN NOTIFIED REPEAT FASTEST CHFBUPERS. THORBY found himself almost immediately on fabulous, mythical Terra, a civilian, tvith a brand-new name and strange relatives. Chief among his relatives were his grandparents BRADLEY, "UNCLE JACK” WEEMSBY, and his cousin LEDA, a comely young woman about CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY his age, tvhom he automatically class- ed as "taboo” just as MATA had been, since she is introduced as "Cousin.” It was immediately evident to him that he must be in the sept of a wealthy family — probably even richer than Sisu, WEEMSBY and LEDA few him to an enormous estate in Wyoming; the es fate’s name is Rudbek, the city nearest it is named Rudbek, and his own name is Rud- bek, in fact his full name is "Rudbek of Rudbek at Rudbek.” But this is a totally strange culture to him, so strange that he does not even know ivhal questions to ask — so strange indeed that his cousin LEDA has never heard of the slave trade and simply cannot believe him when he says that he has been a slave and a beggar. The tattoo mark he shows her she finds confusing and very up- setting— so THORBY shuts up and keeps his ears open. He is caught up in such a whirl of social life tvith LEDA and her young friends that other questions are push- ed aside for a ivhile . . , until one day, during a skiing parly on the slopes of the Tetons near Rudbek Estate, one of the guests, a young man named JOEL DE LA CROIX, gets him aside. "Thor, I’ve got an idea that ought to make .the firm money. Can I talk to you, after you take over?” "After I take over?” "Or later, at your convenience. I don't want to take it up w'lth WEEMSBY — and, after all, you’re the heir.” THORBY bTmked. "I’ll think 91

Page 93

about it.” He left and found LEDA, got her aside, told her what JOEL DE LA CROIX had said. "What did he mean?: 'When I take over.’ " "Why, you will, eventually.” "Take over what?” "Why . . . why, everything.” She gestured, including mountains, estate, Rudbek City. "All of it. Lots of things. Your personal things, like your sheep station in Australia and your house in Majorca and — oh, lots of things. And the business, of course. Rudbek Associates is many things, on many planets — I couldn’t begin to list them. But, after all, you're Rudbek of Rudbek." THORBY licked dry lips. "Why wasn’t I told?” PART 4 Leda looked distressed. "Thor dear! We’ve let you take your time. Daddy didn’t want to worry you.” "Well, ” he said, 'Tm worried now. I had better talk to Uncle Jack.” John Weemsby was at dinner but so were many guests. As they were leaving Weemsby motioned Thorby aside. "Leda tells me you’re fretting.” "Not exactly. I want to know some things.” 'You shall — I was hoping that you would tire of your vacation. Let’s go to my study.” They went there; Weemsby dis- missed his second-shift secretary and said, ’’Now what do you want to know?” 92 "I want to know,” Thorby said slowly, "what it means to be 'Rud- bek of Rudbek.’ ” Weemsby spread his hands. "Everything . . . and nothing. You are titular head of the business,. now that your father is dead ... if he is.” "Is there any doubt?” "I suppose not. Yet you turned up.” "Supposing he is dead, what am I? Leda seems to tliink I own just about everything. What did she mean?” Weemsby smiled. "You know girls. No head for business. The ownership of our enterprises is spread around — most of it is in our employees. But, if your parents are dead, you come into stock in Rudbek Associates, which in turn has an in- terest in — sometimes a controlling interest — in other things. I couldn’t describe it now. I'll have the legal staff do it — I’m a practical man, too busy making decisions to worry about who owns every share. But that re- minds me . . . you haven’t had a chance to spend much money, but you might want to.” Weemsby opened a drawer, took out a pad. "There’s a megabuck. Let me know if you run short.” Thorby thumbed through it. Ter- ran currency did not bother him: a hundred dollars to the credit — which he thought of as five loaves of bread, a trick the Supercargo taught him — ■ a thousand credits to the supercredit, a thousand supercredits to the mega- buck. So simple that the People trans- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 94

lated other currencies into it, for accounting. But each sheet was ten thousand credits . . . and there were a hun- dred sheets. "Did I . . . inherit this?” "Oh, that’s just spending money — checks, really. You convert them at dispensers in stores or banks. You know how?” "No.” "Don’t get a thumbprint on the sensitized area until you insert it in the dispenser. Have Leda show you — if that girl could make money the way she spends it, neither you nor I would have to work. But,” 'Weemsby added,, "since we do, let’s and spread papers. "Although this isn’t hard. Just sign at the bottom of each, put your thumbprint by it, and I’ll call Beth in to notarize. Here, we can open each one to the last page. I had better hold ’em — - the consarned things curl up.” Weemsby held one for Thorby’s signature. Thorby hesitated, then in- stead of signing, reached for the document. Weemsby held on. "What’s the trouble?” "If I’m going to sign, I ought to read it.” He was thinking of some- thing Grandmother used to be down- right boring about. Weemsby shrugged. "They are routine matters that Judge Bruder CITIZEN OF THE G.4LAXY 93

Page 95

prepared for you.” Weemsby placed the document on the others, tidied the stack, and closed the folder. ''These papers tell me to do what I have to do anyway. Somebody has to do the chores.” "Why do I have to sign?” "This is a safety measure.” "I don’t understand.” Weemsby sighed. "The fact is, you don’t understand business. No one expects you to; you haven’t had any chance to learn. But that’s why I have to keep slaving away; busi- ness won’t wait.” He hesitated. "Here’s the simplest way to put it. When your father and mother went on a second honeymoon, they had to appoint someone to act while they were gone. I was the natural choice, since I was their business, manager and your grandfather’s before that — he died before they went away. So I was stuck with it while they went jaunting. Oh, I’m not complaining; it’s not a favor one would refuse a member of the family. Unfortunately they did not come back, so I was left holding the baby. "But now you are back and we must make sure everything^ is orderly. First it is necessary for your parents to be declared legally dead — that must be done before you can inherit. That will take a while. So here I am, your business manager, too — manager for all the family — and I don’t have anything from you telling me to act. These papers do that.” Thorby scratched his cheek. "If I haven’t inherited yet, why do you need anything from me?” 94 Weemsby smiled. "I asked that myself. Judge Bruder thinks it is best to tie down all possibilities. Now since you are of legal age — ” " 'Legal age?’ ” Thorby had never heard the term; among the People, a man was old enough for whatever he could do. Weemsby explained. "So, since the day you passed your eighteenth birthday, you have been of legal age, which simplifies things — it means you don’t have to become a ward of a court. We have your parents’ au- thorizations; now we add yours — and then it doesn’t matter how long it takes the courts to decide that your parents are dead, or to settle their wills. Judge Bruder and I and the others who have to do the work can carry on without interruption. A time gap is avoided . . . one that might cost the business many megabucks. Now do you understand?” "I think so.” "Good. Let’s get it done.” Weems- by started to open the folder. Grandmother always said to read before signing — then think it over. "Uncle Jack, I want to read them.” "You wouldn’t understand them.” "Probably not.” Thorby picked up the folder. "But I’ve got to learn.” Weemsby reached for the folder. "It isn’t necessary.” Thorby felt a surge of obstinacy. "Didn’t you say Judge Bruder pre- pared these for me?” "Yes.” "Then I want to take them to my apartment and try to understand them. If I’m 'Rudbek of Rudbek’ I ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 96

ought to know what I’m doing.” Weemsby hesitated, then shrugged. "Go ahead. You’ll find that I’m sim- ply trying to do for you what I have always been doing.” "But I still ought to understand what I’m doing.” "Very well! Good night.” Thorby read till he fell asleep. The language was baffling but the papers did seem to be what Uncle Jack said they were — instructions to John Weemsby to continue the routine business of a complex set-up. He fell asleep full of terms like "full power of attorney,” "all manners of busi- ness,” "receive and pay monies,” "revocable only by mutual consent,” "waiver of personal appearance,” "full faith and credence,” and "voting proxy in all stockholding and/or directorial meetings, special or annual.” As he dozed off it occurred to him that he had not asked to see the authorizations given by his parents. Sometime during the night he seemed to hear Grandmother’s impa- tient voice; ". . . Then think it over! If you don’t understand it, and the laws under which it will be executed, then don’t sign' it! — no matter how much profit may appear to be in store. Too lazy and too eager can ruin a trader.” He stirred restlessly. XVIII Hardly anyone came down for breakfast in Rudbek. But breakfast in bed was not in Thorby's training; CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY he ate alone in the garden, luxuri- ating in hot mountain sunshine and lush tropical flowers while enjoying the snowy wonderland around him. Snow fascinated him — he had never dreamed that anything could be so beautiful. But the following morning Weemsby came into the garden’ only moments after Thorby sat down. A chair was placed under Weemsby; a servant quickly laid a place. He said, "Just coffee. Good morning, Thor.” "Good morning. Uncle Jack.” "Well, did you get your studying done?” "Sir? Oh, yes. That is, I fell asleep reading.” Weemsby smiled. “Lawyerese is soporific. Did you satisfy yourself that I had told you correctly what they contained?” "Uh, I think so.” "Good.” Weemsby put down his coffee and said to a servant, "Hand me a house phone. Thor, you irri- tated me last night.” "I’m sorry, sir.” "But I realize you were right. You should read what you sign- T wish I had time to ! I have to accept the word of my staff' in routine mat- ters or I would never have time for policy . . . and I assumed that you would do the same with me. But caution is commendable.” He spoke into the phone. "Carter, fetch those papers from Rudbek’ s apartment. The garden.” Thorby wondered if Carter could find the stuff — there was a safe in his study but he had not learned to 95

Page 97

use it, so he had hidden the papers behind books. He started to mention it but Uncle Jack was talking. "Here is something you will want to see ... an inventory of real prop- erty you own — or will own, when the wills are settled. These holdings are unconnected with the business.” Thorby looked through it with amazement. Did he really own an island named Pitcairn at fifteen some- thing south and a hundred and thirty west — whatever that meant ? A dome- home on Mars? A shooting lodge in Yukon — where was "Yukon” and why shoot there? You ought to be in free space to risk shooting. And what were all these other things? He looked for one item. "Uncle Jack? How about Rudbek?” "Eh? You’re sitting on it.” "Yes . . . but do I own it? Leda said I did.” "Well, yes. But it’s entailed — that means ' your great great grand- father decided that it should never be sold ... so that there would al- ways be a Rudbek at Rudbek.” "Oh.” "I thought you might enjoy look- ing over your properties. I’ve ordered a car set aside for you. Is that one we hopped here in satisfactory?” "What? Goodness, yes!” Thorby blinked. "Good. It was your mother’s and I’ve been too sentimental to dispose of it. But it has had all latest im- provements added. You might per- suade Leda to hop with you; she is familiar with most of that list. Take some young friends along and 96 make a picnic of it, as long as you like. We can find a congenial chaperone.” Thorby put the list down. "I prob- ably will, Uncle Jack . . . presently. But I ought to get to work.” "Eh?” "How long does it take to learn to be a lawyer here?” Weemsby’s face cleared. "I see. Lawyers’ quaint notions of language can shock a man. It takes four or five years.” "It does?” "The thing for you is two or three years at Harvard or some, other good school of business.” "I need that?” "Definitely.” "Uh . . . you know more about it than I do — ” "I should! By now.” ". . . But couldn’t I learn some- thing about the business before I go to school? I haven’t any idea what it is.” "Plenty of time.” "But I want to learn noiv." Weemsby started to cloud, then smiled and shrugged. "Thor, you have your mother’s stubbornness. All right, I’ll order a suite for you at the main office in Rudbek City — and staff it with people to help you. But I warn you, it won’t be fun. Nobody owns a business; the business owns him. You’re a slave to it.” "Well ... I ought to try.” "Commendable spirit.” The phone by Weemsby’s cup blinked; he picked it up, frowned, said, "Hold on.” He ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 98

turned to Thorby. "That idiot can’t find those papers.” "I meant to tell you. I hid them — I didn’t want to leave them out.” "I see. Where are they?” "Uh, I’ll have to dig them out.” Weemsby said in the phone, "For- get it.” He tossed the phone to a servant and said to Thorby, "Then fetch them, if you don’t mind.” Thorby did mind. So far he had had four bites; it annoyed him to be told to run an errand while eat- ing. Besides . . . was he "Rudbek of Rudbek?” or still messenger for the weapons officer? "I’ll be going up after breakfast.” Uncle Jack looked vexed. But he answered, "I beg your pardon. If you can’t tear yourself away, would you please tell me where to find them? I have a hard day ahead and I would like to dispose of this triviality and go to work. 7/ you don’t mind.” Thorby wiped his mouth. "I would rather not,” he said slowly, "sign them now.” "What? You told me that you had satisfied yourself.” "No, sir, I told you that I had read them. But I don’t understand them. Uncle Jack, where are the pa- pers that my parents signed?” "Eh?” Weemsby looked at him sharply. "Why?” "I want to see them.” Weemsby considered. "They must be in the vault at Rudbek City.” "All right. I’ll go there.” Weemsby suddenly stood up. "If you will excuse me, I’ll go to work,” he snapped. "Young man, some day CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY you will realize what I have done for you! In the meantime, since you choose to be unco-operative, I still must get on with my duties.” He left abruptly. Thorby felt hurt ■ — he didn’t want to be unco-operative . . . but if they had waited for years, why couldn’t they wait a little longer and give him a chance? He recovered the papers, then phoned Leda. She answered, with vision switched off. '"nior dear, what are you doing up in the middle of the night?” He explained that he wanted to go to the family’s business offices. "I thought maybe you could direct me.” "You say Daddy said to?” "He’s going to assign me an office.” "I won’t Just direct you; I’ll take you. But give a girl a chance to get a face on and swallow orange juice.” He discovered that Rudbek was connected with their offices in Rud- bek City by high-speed sliding tun- nel. They arrived in a private foyer guarded by an elderly receptionist. She looked up. "Hello, Miss Leda! How nice to see you!” "You, too, Aggie. Will you tell Daddy we’re here?” "Of course.” She looked at Thorby. "Oh,” said Leda. "I forgot. This is Rudbek of Rudbek.” Aggie jumped to her feet. "Oh, dear me! I didn’t know — I’m sorry, sir !” Things happened quickly. In min- utes Thorby found himself with an office of quiet magnificence, with a 97

Page 99

quietly gorgeous secretary who addressed him by his double-barreled title but expected him to call her "Dolores.” There seemed to be un- limited genies ready to spring out of walls at a touch of her finger. Leda stuck with him until he was installed, then said, "I’ll run along, since you insist on being a dull old business man.” She looked at Dolores. "Or will it be dull? Perhaps I should stay.” But she left. Thorby was intoxicated with being immensely wealthy and powerful. Top executives called him "Rudbek,” junior executives called him "Rudbek of Rudbek,” and those still more junior crowded their words with "sirs” — he could judge status by how he was addressed. While he was not yet active in business — he saw Weemsby rarely and Judge Bruder almost never — anything he wanted appeared quick- ly. A word to Dolores and a respect- ful young man popped in to explain legal matters; another word and an operator appeared to show moving stereocolor of business interests any- where, even on other planets. He spent days looking at such pictures, yet still did not see them all. His office became so swamped with books, spools, charts, brochures, presentations, file jackets, and figures, that Dolores had the office next door refitted as a library. There were fig- ures on figures, describing in fiscal analogue enterprises too vast to com- prehend otherwise. There were so many figures, so intricately related, 98 that his head ached. He began to have misgivings about the vocation of tycoon. It wasn’t all just being treated with respect, going through doors first, and always getting what you asked for. What was the point if you were so snowed under that you could not enjoy it? Being a Guards- man was easier. Still, it was nice to be important. Most of his life he had been no- body, and at best he had been very junior. If only Pop could see him now ! — surrounded by lavish furnishings, a barber to trim his hair while he worked — Pop used to cut it under a bowl — a secretary to anticipate his v/ishes, and dozens of people eager to help. But Pop’s face in this dream was wearing Pop’s reproving expres- sion; Thorby wondered what he had done wrong, and dug harder into the mess of figures. Eventually a pattern began to emerge. The business was Rudbek & Associates, Ltd. So far as Thorby could tell this firm did nothing. It was chartered as a private investment trust and just owned things. Most of what Thorby would own, when his parents’ wills were probated, was stock in this company. Nor would he ov/n it all; he felt almost poverty- stricken when he discovered that mother and father together held only eighteen per cent of many thousand shares. Then he found out about "voting” and "non-voting”; the shares coming to him were eighteen/fortieths of the voting shares; the remainder was ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 100

split between relatives and nonrela- tives. Rudbek & Associates owned stock in other companies — and here it got complicated. Galactic Enterprises, Galactic Acceptance Corporation, Galactic Transport, Interstellar Met- als, Three Planets Fiscal (which operated on twenty-seven planets), Havermeyer Laboratories (which ran barge lines and bakeries as well as research stations) — the list looked endless. These corporations, trusts, cartels, and banking houses seemed as tangled as spaghetti. Thorby learned that he owned — through his parents — an interest in a company called "Honace Bros., Pty.” through a chain of six companies — 18% of 31% of 43% of 19% of 44% of 27%, a share so microscopic that he lost track. But his parents owned directly seven per cent of Honace Brothers — ^with the result that his in- direct interest of one-twentieth of one per cent controlled it utterly but paid little return, whereas seven per cent owned directly did not control — but paid one hundred and forty times as much. It began to dawn on him that control and ownership were only slightly related; he had always thought of "ownership” and "con- trol” as being the same thing; you owned a thing, a begging bowl, or a uniform jacket — of course you con- trolled it! The converging, diverging, and crossing of corporations and com- panies confused and disgusted him. CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY It was as complex as a fire-control computer without a computer’s cool logic. He tried to draw a chart and could not make it work. The owner- ship of each entity was tangled in common stocks, preferred stocks, bonds, senior and junior issues, securities with odd names and un- known functions; sometimes one company owned a piece of another directly and another piece through a third, or two companies might each own a little of the other, or some- times a company owned part of it- self in a tail-swallowing fashion. It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t "business” — ^what the People did was business . . . buy, sell, make a profit. But this was a silly game with wild rules. Something else fretted him. He had not known that Rudbek built spaceships. Galactic Enterprises con- trolled Galactic Transport, which built ships in one of its many divi- sions. When he realized it he felt a glow of pride, then discovered gnawing uneasiness — something Colonel Brisby had said . . . some- thing Pop had proved: that the "largest” or it might have been "one of the largest” builders of starships was mixed up in the slave trade. He told himself he was being silly ■ — this beautiful office was about as far 'from the dirty business of slave traffic as anything could be. But as he was dropping to sleep one night he came wide awake with the black, ironic thought that one of those slave ships in whose stinking holds he had ridden might have been, at that 99

Page 101

very time, the property of the scabby, frightened slave he was then. It was a nightmare notion; he pushed it away. But it took the fun out of what he was doing. One afternoon he sat studying a long memorandum from the legal department — a siunmary, so it said, of Rudbek & Associates’ interests — and found that he had dragged to a halt. It seemed as if the writer had gone out of his way to confuse things. It would have been as intel- 100 ligible in ancient Chinese — more so; Sargonese included many Mandarin words. He sent Dolores out and sat with his head in his hands. Why, oh, why hadn’t he been left in the Guard He had been happy there; he had understood the world he was in. 'Then he straightened up and did something he had been putting off; he returned a vuecall from his grand- parents. He had been expected to visit them long since, but he had felt ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 102

compelled to try to learn his job first. Indeed he was welcome! "Hurry, son — we’ll be waiting.” It was a wonderful hop across prairie ami the mighty Mississippi — small from that height — and over city-pocked farm land to the sleepy college town of ■Valley View, where sidewalks were stationary and time itself seemed slowed. His grandparents’ home, imposing for Valley View, was homey after the awesome halls of Rudbck. But the visit was not relaxing, 'fhere were guests at dinner, the president of the college and depart- ment heads, and many more after dinner — some called him "Rudbek of Rudbek,” other addressed him un- certainly as "Mr. Rudbek,” and still others, smug with misinformation as to how the nabob was addressed by familiars, simply as "Rudbek.” His grandmother twittered around, happy as only a proud hostess can be, and his grandfather stood straight and addressed him loudly as "Son.” Tliorby did his best to be a credit to them. He soon realized that it was not what he said but the fact of talk- ing to Rudbek that counted. The following night, which his grandmother reluctantly kept private, he got a chance to talk. He wanted advice. First information was exchanged. Thorby learned that his father, on marrying the only child of his grand- father Rudbek, had taken his wife’s family name. "It’s understandable,” CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY Grandfather Bradley told him. "Rud- bek has to have a Rudbek. Martha was heir but Creighton had to pre- side— board meetings and confer- ences and at the dinner table for that matter. I had hoped that my son would pursue the muse of history, as I have. But when this came along, what could I do but be happy for him?” His parents and Thorby himself had been lost as a consequence of his father’s earnest attempt to be in the fullest sense Rudbek of Rudbek — he had been trying to inspect as much of the commercial empire as possible. "Your father was always conscientious and when your Grand- father Rudbek died before your fa- ther completed his apprenticeship, so to speak, Creighton left John Weemsby in charge — John is, I sup- pose you know, the second husband of your other grandmother’s young- est sister Aria — and Leda, of course, is Aria’s daughter by her first mar- riage.” "No, I hadn’t known.” Thorby translated the relationships into Sisu terms . . . and reached the startling conclusion that Leda was in the other moiety! — if they had such things here, which drey didn’t. And Uncle Jack — well, he wasn’t "uncle” — but how would you say it in English? "John had been a business secre- tary and factotum to your other grandfather and he was the perfect choice, of course; he knew the inner workings better than anyone, except your grandfather himself. After we got over the shock of our tragic loss 101

Page 103

we realized that the world must go on and that John could handle it as well as if he had been Rudbek him- self.” "He’s been simply wonderful!” grandmother chirped. "Yes, he has. I must admit that your grandmother and I became used to a comfortable scale of living after Creighton married. College salaries are never what they should be; Creighton and Martha were very generous. Your grandmother and I might have found it difficult after we realized that our son was gone, never to come back, had not John told us not to worry. He saw to it that our benefit continued just as before.” "And increased it,” Grandmother Bradley added emphatically. "Well, yes. All the family — we think of ourselves as part of Rudbek family even though we bear a proud name of our own — all of the fmiily have been pleased with John’s stew- ardship.” Thorby was interested in some- thing other than "Uncle Jack’s” virtues. "You told me that we left Akka, jumping for Far-Star, and never made it? That’s a long, long way from Jubbul.” "I suppose it is. The College has only a small Galactovue and I must admit that it is hard to realize that what appears to be an inch or so is actually many light-years.” "About a hundred and seventy light-years, in this case.” "Let me see, how much would that be in miles?” 102 "You don’t measure it that way, any more than you measure that couchomat you’re on in microns.” "Come now, young man, don’t be pedantic.” "I wasn’t being, Grandfather. I was thinking that it was a long way from where I was captured to where I was last sold. I hadn’t known it.” "I heard you use that term ’sold’ once before. You must realize that it is not correct. After all, the serfdom practiced in the Sargony is not chattel slavery. It derives from the ancient Hindu guild or 'caste’ system — a stabilized social order with mutual obligations, up and down. You must not call it 'slavery.’ ” "I don’t know any other w'ord to translate the Sargonese term.” "I could think of several, though I don’t know Sargonese . . . it's not a useful tongue in scholarship. But, my dear Thor, you aren't a student of human histories and culture. Grant me a little authority in my own field.” "Well . . .” Thorby felt baffled. "I don’t know System English per- fectly and there’s a lot of history I don’t know — there’s an awful lot of history.” "So there is. As I am the first to admit.” "But I can’t translate any better — I was sold and I was a slave!” "Now, Son.” "Don’t contradict your grand- father, dear, that’s a good boy.” Thorby shut up. He had already mentioned his years as a beggar — and had discovered that his grand- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 104

mother was horrified, had felt that he had disgraced himself, though she did not quite say so. And he had already found that while his grand- father knew much about many things, he was just as certain of his knowl- edge when Thorby’s eyes had report- ed things differently. Thorby con- cluded glumly that it was part of being senior and nothing could be done about it. He listened while Grandfather Bradley discoursed on the history of the Nine Worlds. It didn’t agree with what the Sargonese believed but wasn’t too far from wliat Pop had taught him — other than about slavery. He was glad when the talk drifted back to the Rudbek or- ganization. He admitted his diffi- culties. "You can’t build Rome in a day, Thor.” "It looks as if I never would learn ! I’ve been thinking about going back into the Guard.” His grandfather frowned. "That would not be wise.” “Why not, sir?” "If you don’t have talent for busi- ness, there are other honorable pro- fessions.” "Meaning the Guard isn’t?” "Mm-m-m . . . your grandmother and I are philosophical pacifists. It cannot be denied that there is never a moral justification for taking hu- man life.” "Never,” agreed grandmother firmly. Thorby wondered what Pop would think? Shucks, he knew! — Pop cut ’em down like grass to rescue a load CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY of slaves. "What do you do when a raider jumps you?” "A what?” "A pirate. You’ve got a pirate on your tail and closing fast.” "Why, you run, I suppose. It’s not moral to stay and do battle. Thor, nothing is ever gained by violence.” "But you can’t run; he has more legs. It’s you or him.” "You mean 'he.’ Then you surren- der; that defeats his purpose . . . as the immortal Gandhi proved.” Thorby took a deep breath. "Grandfather, I’m sorry but \t doesn’t defeat his purpose. You have to fight. Raiders take slaves. The proudest thing I ever did was to burn one.” "Eh? 'Burn one?’” "Hit him with a target-seeker. Blast him out of the sky.” Grandmother gasped. At last his grandfather said stiffly, "Thor, I’m, afraid you’ve been exposed to bad influences. Not your fault, perhaps. But you have many misconceptions, both in fact and in evaluation. Now be logical. If you 'burned him’ as you say, how do you know he intend- ed— again, as you say — to 'take slaves’ ? What could he do with them? Nothing.” Thorby kept silent. It made a difference which side of the Plaza you saw a thing from . . . and if you didn’t have status, you weren’t lis- tened to. That was a universal rule. Grandfather Bradley continued, "So we’ll say no more about it. On this other matter I’ll give you the advice I would give your departed father; if you feel that you have no 103

Page 105

head for trade, you don’t have to enter it. But to run away and join the Guard, like some childish ro- mantic— no. Son! But you needn’t make up your mind for years. John is a very able regent; you don’t have a decision facing you.” He stood up. "I know, for I’ve discussed this with John, and he’s willing, in all humil- ity, to carry the burden a little far- ther ... or much farther, if need be. And now we had all better seek our pillows. Morning comes early.” Thor left the next morning, with polite assurances that the house was his — ^which made him suspect tliat it was. He went to Rudbek City, hav- ing reached a decision during a rest- less night. He wanted to sleep with a live ship around him. He wanted to be back in Pop’s outht; being a bil- lionaire boss wasn’t his style. He had to do something first; dig out those papers that father and mother had signed, compare them with the ones prepared for him — - since father must have known what was needed — sign them, so that Uncle Jack could get on with the work after he was gone. Grand- father was right about that; John Weemsby knew how to do the job and he didn’t. He should be grateful to Uncle Jack. He would thank him before he left. Then off Terra and out to where people talked his lan- guage! He buzzed Uncle Jack’s office as soon as he reached his own, was told that he v/as out of town. He decided that he could write a note and make 104 it sound better — oh yes! must say good-by to Leda. So he buzzed the legal department and told them to dig his parents’ authorizations out of the vault and send them to his office. Instead of papers. Judge Bnider arrived. "Rudbek, what’s this about your ordering certain papers from the vault Thorby explained. "I want to see them.” "No one but officers of the com- pany can order papers from the vault.” "What am I?” "I’m afraid you are a young man with confused notions. In time, you will have authority. But at the mo- ment you are a visitor, learning something about your parents’ affairs.” Thorby swallowed it; it was true, no matter how it tasted. "I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What’s the progress in the court action to have my parents declared dead?” "Are you trying to bury them?” "Of course not. But it has to be done, or so Uncle Jack says. So where are we?” Bruder sniffed. "Nowhere, through your doing.” "What do you mean?” "Young man, do you think that the officers of this company will initiate a process which would throw affairs of the firm into incredible confusion unless you take necessary steps to guard against it? Why, it may take years to settle the wills — ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 106

during which, business would come to a stop . . . simply because you neglected to sign a few simple in- struments which I prepared weeks ago.” "You mean nothing will be done until I sign?” "That is correct.” "I don’t understand. Suppose I were dead — or had never been born. Does business stop every time a Rudbek dies?” "Mm-m-m . . . well, no. A court authorizes matters to proceed. But you are here and we must take that into consideration. Now see here, I’m at the end of my patience. You seem to think, simply because you’ve read a few balance sheets, that you understand business. You don’t. For example your belief that you can order instruments turned over to you that were given to John Weemsby personally and are not even com- pany property. If you were to attempt to take charge of the firm at this time . — if we proceeded with your notion to have your parents declared dead — I can see that we would have all sorts of confusion while you were finding your balance. We can’t afford it. The company can’t afford it. Rudbek can’t afford it. So I want those papers signed today and no more shilly-shallying. You under- stand?” Thorby lowered his head. “I won’t.” "What do you mean, ’You won’t’ ?” "I won’t sign anything until I know what I’m doing. If I can’t even see the papers my parents sign- ed, then I certainly won’t.” "We’ll see about that!” "I’m going to sit tight until I find out what’s going on around here!” XIX Thorby discovered that finding out was difficult. Things went on much as before but were not the same. He had vaguely suspected that the help he was being given in learning the business had sometimes been too much not well enough organized; he felt smothered in unrelated figures, ver- bose and obscure "summaries,” "analyses” that did not analyze. But he had known so little that it took time to become even a suspicion. The suspicion, became certainty from the day he defied Judge Bruder. Dolores seemed eager as ever and people still hopped when he spoke but the lavish flow of information trickled toward a stop. He was stalled with convincing excuses but could never quite find out what he wanted to know. A "survey is being pre- pared” or the man who "has charge of that is out of the city” or "those are vault files and none of the dele- gated officers are in today.” Neither Judge Bruder nor Uncle Jack was ever available and their assistants were politely unhelpful. Nor was he able to corner Uncle Jack at the estate. Leda told him that "Daddy often has to go away on trips.” Things began to be confused in his own office. Despite the library CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 105

Page 107

Dolores had set up she could not seem to find, or even recall, papers that he had marked for retention. Finally he lost his temper and bawled her out. She took it quietly. "I’m sorry, sir. I’m trying very hard.” Thorby apologized. He knew a slow-down when he saw one; he had checked enough stevedores to know. But this poor creature could not help herself; he was lashing out at the wrong person. He added placatingly, "I really am sorry. Take the day off.” "Oh, I couldn’t, sir.” "Who says so? Go home.” "I’d rather not, sir.” "Well . . . suit yourself. But go lie down in the ladies’ lounge or something. That’s an order. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She looked worried and left. Thorby sat at his chaste, bare, un- powered executive desk and thought. It was what he needed : to be alone without a flood of facts and figures. He started digesting what he had soaked up. Presently he started list- ing the results. Item: Judge Bruder and Uncle Jack had put him in Coventry for refusing to sign the proxies. Item: He might be 'Rudbek of Paidbek’ — but Uncle Jack would continue to run things until Thorby’s parents were legally dead. Item: Judge Bruder had told him bluntly that no steps would be taken about the above until he admitted his incompetence and signed proxies. Item: He did not know what his parents .had signed. He had tried to 106 force a showdown — and had failed. Item: "Ownership” and "control” were very different. Uncle Jack con- trolled everything that Thorby own- ed; Uncle Jack owned merely a nomi- nal one share to qualify him as acting chairman of the board. (Leda owned a chunk as she was a Rudbek while Uncle Jack wasn’t — but Uncle Jack probably controlled her stock, too; Leda paid no attention to business.) Conclusions : What conclusions? Was Uncle Jack doing something crooked and didn’t dare let him find out? Well, it didn’t look like it. Uncle Jack had salary and bonuses so large that only a miser would want more money simply as money. His parents’ ac- counts seemed in order — they showed a huge balance; the megabuck Uncle Jack had handed him hardly made a dent. The only other withdrawals were for Grandfather and Grand- mother Bradley, plus a few sums around the family or charged to the estates — nothing important, another couple of megabucks. Conclusion: Uncle Jack was boss, like being boss, and meant to go on being boss if possible. "Status” . . . Uncle Jack had high status and was fighting to keep it. Thorby felt that he understood him at last. Uncle Jack put up with the overwork he complained about be- cause he liked being boss — just as captains and chief officers worked themselves silly, even though every member of a Free Trader family owned the same share. Uncle Jack was "chief officer” and didn’t intend ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 108

to surrender his supreme status to someone a third his age who — let's face it — ^wasn’t competent for the work the status required. In this moment of insight Thorby felt that he ought to sign those proxies for Unde Jack, who had earned the job whereas Thorby had merely inherited it. Uncle Jack must have been terribly disappointed when he had turned up alive; it must have seemed an utterly unfair twist of fate. "Well, let him have it! Settle things and join the Guard. But Thorby was not ready to back down to Judge Bruder. He had been pushed around — and his strongest reflex was resistance to any authority he had not consented to; it had been burned into his soul with whips. He did not know this — he just knew that he was going to be stubborn. He decided that Pop would want him to be. Thought of Pop reminded him of something. 'Was Rudbek connected, even indirectly, with the slave trade? He realized now why Pop wanted him to hang on — he could not quit until he knew . . . nor until he had put a stop to it if the unspeakable condition did exist. But how could he find out ? He was Rudbek of Rud- bek . . . but they had him tied with a thousand threads, like the fellow in that story Pop had told . . . "Gul- liver and his Starship," that was it. ■Well, let’s see, Pop had reported to "X" Corps that there was a tie-up among some big spaceship outfit, the CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY Sargon’s government, and the raider- slave traders. Raiders had to have ships. Ships . . . there was a book he had read last week. Galactic Transport’s history of every ship they had built, from #0001 to the latest. He went into his library. PIm-m-m . . . tall red book, not a tape. Confounded thing was missing . . . like a lot of things lately. But he had almost renshawed the book, being interested in ships. He started making notes. Most of them were in service in- side the Hegemony, some in Rudbek interests, some in others. Some of his ships had been sold to the Peo- ple, a pleasing thought. But some had wound up registered to owners he could not place . . . and yet he thought he knew the names, at least, of all outfits engaged in legitimate interstellar trade under the Hegem- ony— and he certainly would recog- nize any Free Trader clan. No way to be sure of anything from his desk, even if he had the book. Maybe there was no way, from Terra . . . maybe even Judge Bruder and Uncle Jack would not know if something fishy were going on. He got up and sv/itched on the Galactovue he had had installed. It showed only the explored fraction of the Galaxy — even so, the scale was fantastically small. He began oper- ating controls. First he lighted in green the Nine Worlds. Then he added, in yellow, pestholes avoided by the People. He lighted up the two planets between which he and 107

Page 109

his parents had been captured, then did the same for every missing ship of the People concerning which he happened to know the span of the uncompleted jump. The result was a constellation of colored lights, fairly close together as star distances go and in the same sector as the Nine Worlds. Thorby looked at it and whistled. Pop had known what he was talking about — yet it would be hard to spot unless displayed like this. He began thinking about cruising ranges and fueling stations maintain- ed by Galactic Transport out that way . . . then added in orange the banking offices of Galactic Accept- ance Corporation in the "neighbor- hood.” Then he studied it. It was not certain proof — yet what other outfit maintained such activities facing that sector? He intended to find out. XX Thorby found that Leda had or- dered dinner in the garden. They were alone, and falling snow turned the artificial sky into an opalescent bowl. Candles, flowers, a string trio, and Leda herself made the scene delightful but Thorby failed to enjoy it, even though he liked Leda and considered the garden the best part of Rudbek hall. The meal was almost over when Leda said, "A dollar for your thoughts.” Thorby looked guilty. "Uh, noth- ing.” 108 "It must be a worrisome nothing.” "Well . . . yes.” "Want to tell Leda?” Thorby blinked. Weemsby’s daugh- ter was the last one he could talk to. His gloom was caused by wonder as to what he could do if he became convinced that Rudbek was mixed up in slavery. "I guess I’m not cut out to be a businessman.” "Why, Daddy says you have a surprising head for figures.” Thorby snorted. "Then why doesn’t he — ” He stopped. "Why doesn’t he what?” "Uh — ” Doggone it, a man had to talk to somebody . . . someone who sympathized — or bawled him out if necessary. Like Pop. Like Fritz. Yeah, like Colonel Brisby. He was surrounded by people, yet utterly alone — except that Leda seemed to want to be friendly. "Leda, how much of what I say to you do you tell your father?” To his amazement she blushed. "What made you say that, Thor?” "Well, you are pretty close to him. Aren’t you?” She stood up suddenly. "If you’ve finished, let’s walk.” Thorby stood up. They strolled paths, watched the storm, listened to its soft noises against the dome. She guided them to a spot away from the house and shielded by bushes and there sat down on a boulder. "This is a good spot — ^for private conversation.” "It is?” "When the garden was wired, I made sure that there was somewhere ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 110

I could be kissed without Daddy’s snoopers listening in.” Thorby stared. "You mean that?” "Surely you realize you are moni- tored almost everywhere but the ski slopes?” "I didn’t. And I don’t like it.” "Who does? But it is a routine precaution with anything as big as Rudbek; you mustn’t blame Daddy. I just spent some credits to make sure the garden wasn’t as well wired as he thought. So if you have anything to say you don’t want Daddy to hear, you can talk now. He’ll never know. That’s a cross-my-heart promise.” Thorby hesitated, then checked the area. He decided that if a micro- phone were hidden nearby it must be disguised as a flower . . . which was possible. "Maybe I ought to save it for the ski slope.” "Relax, dear. If you trust me at all, trust me that this place is safe.” "Uh, all right.” He found himself blurting out his frustrations . . . his conclusion that Uncle Jack was in- tentionally thwarting him unless he would turn over his potential power. Leda listened gravely. "That’s it. Now — am I crazy?” She said, "Thor, you know that Daddy has been throwing me at you ?” "Huh?” "I don’t see how you coidd miss it. Unless you are utterly — but then, perhaps you are. Just take it as true. It’s one of those obvious marriages that everyone is enthusiastic about . . . except maybe the two most con- cerned.” CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 109

Page 111

Thorby forgot his worries in the face of this amazing statement, "You mean . . . well, uh, that you — ’’ He trailed off. "Heavens, dear ! If I intended to go through with it, would I have told you anything? Oh, I admit I promised, before you arrived, to consider it. But you never warmed to the idea — and I’m too proud to be willing under those circumstances even if the preservation of Rudbek depended on it. Now what’s this about Daddy not letting you see the proxies that Martha and Creighton gave him?” "They won’t let me see them; I won’t sign until they do.” "But you’ll sign if they do?” "Uh . . . maybe I will, eventually. But I want to see what arrangements my parents made.” "I can’t see why Daddy opposes such a reasonable request. Unless — ” She frowned. "Unless what?” "■What about your shares? Have those been turned over to you?” "What shares?” "Why, yours. You know wliat shares I hold. They were given to me when I was born, by Rudbek — your grandfather, I mean. My unde. You probably got twice as many, since you were expected to become the Rudbek .some day.” "I haven’t any shares.” She nodded grimly. "That’s one reason Daddy and the Judge don’t want you to see those papers. Our personal shares, don’t depend on anyone; they’re ours to do as we please with, since we are both legal age. Your parents voted yours, just as Daddy still votes mine — but any proxy they assigned concerning your shares can’t be any good now. You can pound the desk and they’ll have to cough up, or shoot you.” She frowned. "Not that they would shoot. Thor, Daddy is a good sort, most ways.” "I never said he wasn’t.” "I don’t love him, but I’m fond of him. But when it comes down to it, I’m a Rudbek and he’s not. That’s silly, isn’t it? Because we Rudbeks aren’t anything special; we’re just shrewd peasants. But I’ve got a worry, too. You remember Joel de ■la Croix?” "He’s the one that wanted an in- terview with me?” "That’s right. Joey doesn’t work here any more.” "I don’t understand.” "He was a rising star in the en- gineering department of Galactic . . . didn’t you know? The olBce says he left to accept other employment; Joey says he was fired for going over their heads to speak to you.” She frowned. "I didn’t know what to believe. Now I believe Joey. 'Well, Thor, are you going to take it lying down? Or prove that you are Rudbek of Rud- bek?” Thorby chewed his lip. "I’d like to go back into the Guard and forget the whole mess. I used to wonder what it was like to be rich. Now I MU and it turns out to be mostly headaches.” no ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 112

"So you’d walk out on it?” Her voice was faintly scornful. "I didn’t say that. I’m going to stay and find out what goes on. Only I don’t know how to start. You think I should pound Uncle Jack’s desk and demand my shares?” "Not without a lawyer at your side.” "There are too many lawyers in this now!” "That’s why you need one. It will take a sharji one to win a scrap with Judge Bruder.” "How do I find one?” "Goodness, I don't use lawyers. But I can find out. Now let’s stroll and chat — in case anybody is inter- ested.” Thorby spent a glum morning studying corporation law. Just past lunch Leda called. "Thor, how about taking me skiing? The storm is over and the snow, is just right.” She looked at him eaeerly. "Well—” "Oh, come on!” He went. They said nothing until they were far from the house. Then Leda said, "The man you need is James J. Garsch, New Washington.” "I thought that must be why you called. Do you want to ski? I'd like to go back and call him.” "Oh, my!” She shook her head sadly. "Thor, I may have to marry you just to mother you. You go back to the house and call a lawyer outside Rudbek — one whose reputation is sky hitrh. What happens?” ""What?” "You might wake up in a quiet place with big muscular nurses around you. I’ve had a sleepless night and I’m convinced they mean business. So I had to make up my mind. I was willing for Daddy to run things forever — but if he fights dirty. I'm on your side.” "Thanks, Leda.” "'Thanks’ he says! Thor, this is for Rudbek. Now to business. You can’t grab your hat and go to New Washington to retain a lawyer. If I know Judge Bruder, he has planned what to do if you try. But you can go look at some of your estate — • starting with your house in New Washington.” "That’s smart, Leda.” "I’m so smart I dazzle myself. If you want it to look good, you’ll invite me along — Daddy has told me that I ought to show you around.” "Why, sure, Leda. If it won’t be too much trouble.” "I’ll simply force myself. We’ll actually do some sightseeing, in the Department of North America, at least. The only thing that bothers me is how to get away from the guards.” "Guards?” "Nobody high up in Rudbek ever travels without bodyguards. Why, you’d be run ragged by reporters and crackpots.” "I think,” Thorby said slowly, "that you must be mistaken in my case. I went to see my grandparents. There weren’t any guards.” "They specialize in being unob- trusive. I’ll bet there were always CITIZEN OP THE GALAXY 111

Page 113

at least two in your grandmother’s house while you were there. See that solitary skier? Long odds he’s not skiing for fun. So we have to find a way to get them ofiF your neck while you look up Counselor Garsch. Don’t worry, I’ll think of some- thing.” Thorby was immensely interested in the great capital but still more interested in getting on with his pur- pose. Leda did not let him hurry. "First we sight-see. We naturally would.” The house, simple compared with Rudbek — twenty rooms, only two of them large — ^was as ready as if he had stepped out the day before. Two of the servants he recognized as having been at Rudbek. A ground- car, with driver and footman in Rud- bek livery, was waiting. The driver seemed to know where to take them; they rode around in the semitropic winter sunshine and Leda pointed out planetary embassies and consu- lates. When they passed the immense pile which is headquarters of the Hegemonic Guard, Thorby had the driver slow down while he rubber- necked. Leda said, "That’s your alma mater, isn’t it?” Then she whispered, "Take a good look. The building opposite its main door is where you are going.” They got out at the Replica Lin- coln Memorial, walked up the steps and felt the same hushed awe that millions have felt when looking at that brooding giant figure. Thorby had a sudden feeling that the statue 112 looked like Pop — not that it did — ■ but still it did. His eyes filled with tears. Leda whispered, "This place al- ways gets me — it’s like a haunted church. You know who he was? He founded America. Ancient history is awesome.” "He did something else.” "What?” "He freed slaves.” "Oh.” She looked up with sober eyes. "That means something special to you . . . doesn’t it?” ""Very special.” He considered telling Leda his strongest reason for pushing the fight, since they were alone and this was a place that wouldn’t be bugged. But he couldn’t. He felt that Pop would not mind — but he had promised Colonel Brisby. He puzzled over inscriptions on the w’alls, in letters and spelling used before English became System Eng- lish. Leda tugged his sleeve and whispered, "Come on. I can never stay here long or I start crying.” They tiptoed away. Leda decided that she just had to see the show at the Milky Way. So they got out and she told the driver to pick them up in three hours and ten minutes, then Thorby paid out- rageous scalpers’ prices for a double booth and immediate occupancy. "There!” she sighed as they started inside. "That’s half of it. The foot- man will drop off as they round the corner, but we’re rid of the driver for a while; there isn’t a place to park around here. But the footman ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 114

wiil be right behind us, if he wants to keep his job. He’s buying a ticket this minute. Or maybe he’s already inside. Don’t look." They started up the escalator. "This gives us a few seconds; he won’t get on until we curve out of sight. Now listen. Tlie people hold- ing these seats wi}l leave as soon as we show the tickets — only I'm going to hang onto one, pay him to stay. Let’s hope it’s a man because our nursemaid is going to spot that booth in minutes . . . seconds, if he was able to get our booth number down below. You keep going. 'When he finds our booth he’ll see me in it with a man. He won’t see the man’s face in the dark but he’ll be certain of me because of this outlandish, nicht-elow outfit I'm wearing. So O O c» he'll be happy. You zip out any exit but the main lobby; the driver will probably wait there. Try to be in the outer lobby a few minutes before the time I told them to have the car. If you don’t make it, hire a flea-cab and go home. I’ll complain aloud that you didn’t like the show and went home.” Thorby decided that the "X” Corps had missed a bet in Leda. "Won’t they report that they lost track of me?” "They’ll be so relieved they’ll never breathe it. Here we are — keep moving. See you!” Thorby went out a side exit, got lost, got straightened out by a cop, at last found the building across from Guard SHQ. The building directory showed that Garsch had offices on the thirty-fourth terrace; a few min- utes later he faced a receptionist whose mouth was permanently pursed in "No.” She informed him frostily that the counselor never saw anyone except by appointment. Did he care to make an inquiry appointment with one of the counselor’s associates? "Name, please !” Thorby glanced around, the room was crowded. She slapped a switch. "Speak up!” she snapped. "I’ve turned on the privacy curtain.” "Please tell Mr. Garsch that Rud- bek of Rudbek would like to see him.” Thorby thought that she was about to tell him not to tell fibs. Then she got up hastily and left. She came back and said quietly, "The counselor can give you five minutes. This way, sir.” James J. Garsch’ s private office was in sharp contrast with building and suite; he himself looked like an unmade bed. He wore trousers, not tights, and his belly bulged over his belt. He had not shaved that day; his grizzled beard matched the fringe around his scalp. He did not stand up. "Rudbek?” "Yes, sir. Mr. James J. Garsch?” "The same. Identification? Seems to me I saw your face in the news but I don’t recollect.” Thorby handed over his ID folder. Garsch glanced at the public ID, studied the rare and more difficult- to-counterfeit ID of Rudbek & Associates. CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 113

Page 115

He handed it back. "Siddown. What can I do for you?” "I need advice . . . and help.” "That’s what I sell. But Bruder has lawyers running out of his ears. What can 1 do for you?” “Uh, is this confidential?” "Privileged, son. The word is ■privileged.’ You don’t ask a lawyer that; he’s either honest or he ain’t. Me, I’m middlin’ honest. You take your chances.” "Well . . . it’s a long story.” "Then make it short. You talk. I listen.” "You’ll represent me?” "You talk, I listen,” Garsch re- peated. "Maybe I’ll go to sleep. I ain’t feeling my best today. I never do.” "All right.” Thorby launched into it. Garsch listened with eyes closed, fingers laced over his bulge. "That’s all,” concluded Thorby, "except that I'm anxious to get straightened out so that I can go back into the Guard.” Garsch for the first time showed interest. "Rudbek of Rudbek? In the Guard? Let’s not be silly, son.” "But I’m not really 'Rudbek of Rudbek.’ I’m an enlisted Guardsman who got pitched into it by circum- stances beyond my control.” "I knew that part of your story; the throb writers ate it up. But we all got circumstances we can’t con- trol. Point is, a man doesn’t quit his job. Not when it’s his.” "It’s not mine,” Thorby answered stubbornly. "Let’s not fiddle. First, we get 114 your parents declared dead. Second, we demand their wills and proxies. If they make a fuss, we get a court order . . . and even the mighty Rud- bek folds up under a simple sub- poena-or-be-locked-up-for-contempt.” He bit a fingernail. "Might be some time before the estate is settled and you are qualified. Court might ap- point you to act, or the wills may say who, or the court might appoint somebody else. But it won’t be those two, if what you say is correct. Even one , of Bruder’s pocket judges wouldn’t dare; it would be too raw and he’d know he’d be reversed.” "But what can I do if they won’t even start the action to have my parents declared dead?” ' "Who told you you had to wait on them? You’re the interested party; they might not even qualify as amicus curiae. If I recall the gossip, they’re hired hands, qualified with one nominal share each. You’re the number-one interested party, so you start the action. Other relatives? First cousins, maybe?” "No first cousins. I don’t know what other heirs there may be. There’s my grandparents Bradley.” "Didn’t know they were alive. Will they fight you?” Thorby started to say no, changed his mind. "I don’t know.” "Cross it when we come to it. Other heirs . . . well, we won’t know till we get a squint at the wills — • and that probably won’t happen until a court forces them. Any objection ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 116

to hypnotic evidence? Truth drugs? Lie detectors?” "No. Why?” "You’re the best witness thiit they are dead, not just long time miss- ing.” "But if a person is missing long enough?” "Depends. Any term of years is just a guide to the court, not a rule of law. Time was when seven years would do it — but that’s no longer true. Things are roomier now.” "How do we start?” "Got any money? Or have they got you hogtied on that? I come high. I usually charge for each exhale and inhale.” "Well, I’ve got a megabuck . . . and a few thousand more. About eight.” "Hm-m-m . . . Haven’t said I’d take this case. Has it occurred to you that your life may be in danger?” "Huh! No, it hasn’t.” "Son, people do odd things for money, but they’ll do still luore drastic things for power over money. Anybody sittin’ close to a billion credits is in danger; it’s like keeping a pet rattlesnake. If I were you and started feeling ill, I’d pick my own doctor. I’d be cautious about going through doors and standing close to open windows.” He thought. "Rud- bek is not a good place for you now; don’t tempt them. Matter of fact, you ought not to be here. Belong to the Diplomatic Club?” "No, sir.” "You do now. People ’ud be sur- prised if you didn’t. I’m often there, CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY around six. Got a room there, sort of private. Twenty eleven.” " 'Twenty eleven.’ ” "I still haven’t said I’d take it. Got any idea what I'd have to do if I lose this case?” "Eh? No, sir.” "What was that place' you men- tioned? Jubbulpore? That’s where I’d have to move.” Suddenly he grinned. "But I’ve been spoiling for a fight. Rudbek, eh? Bruder. You mentioned a megabuck?” Thorby got out his book of check- ing certificates, passed them over. Garsch riffled through it, shoved it into a drawer. "We won’t convert this now; they’re almost certainly noting your withdrawals. Anyhow, it's going to cost you more. G’bye. Say in a couple of days.” Thorby left, feeling bucked up. He had never met a more mercenary, predatory old man — he reminded Thorby of the old, scarred freedmen professionals who swaggered around the New Amphitheater. As he came outdoors he saw Guard Headquarters. He looked again — then ducked through murderous traffic and ran up its steps. XXI Thorby found a circle of recep- tionist booths around the great foyer. He pushed through crowds pouring out and went into one. A contralto voice said, "Punch your name. State department and office into the micro- phone. Wait until the light appears, then state your business. You are 115

Page 117

reminded that working hours are over and only emergencies are now handled.” Thorby punched, 'Thorby Bas- lim,” into the machine, then said, "Exotic Corps.” He waited. The tape repeated, "Punch your name. State the depart- ment and office into — ” It suddenly cut off. A man’s voice said, "Repeat that.” "Exotic Corps.” "Business?” "Better check my name in your files.” At last another female voice chanted, "Follow the light immedi- ately over your head. Do not lose it.” He followed it up escalators, down slideways, and into an unmarked door, where a man not in uniform led him through two more. He faced another man in civilian clothes who stood up and said, "Rudbek of Rud- bek. I am Wing Marshal Smith.” "Thorby Baslim, please, sir. Not 'Rudbek.’ ” "Names aren’t important but iden- tities are. Mine isn’t 'Smith,’ but it will do. I suppose you have identifi- cation?” Thorby produced his ID again. "You probably have my fingerprints.” "They’ll be here in a moment. Do you mind supplying them again?” While Thorby had his prints taken, a print file card popped out onto the Marshal’s desk. He put both sets into a comparator, seemed to pay no attention but until it flashed green he spoke only politenesses. Then he said, "All right, Thorby Baslim . . . Rudbek. What can I do for you?” "Maybe it’s what I can do for you?” "So?” "I came here for two reasons,” Thorby stated. "The first is, I think 1 can add something to Colonel Bas- lim’s final report. You know who I mean?” "I knew him and admired him very much. Go on.” "The second is — I’d like to go back into the Guard and go 'X’ Corps.” Thorby couldn’t recall when he had decided this, but he had — not just Pop’s outfit, Pop’s own corps. Pop’s work. "Smith” raised his brows. "So? Rudbek of Rudbek?” "I’m getting that fixed.” Thorby sketched rapidly how he must settle his parents’ estate, arrange for han- dling of their affairs. "Then I’m free. I know it’s presumptuous of an act- ing ordnanceman third class — no, I was busted from that; I had a fight — ■ for a boot Guardsman to talk about 'X’ Corps, but I think I’ve got things you could use. I know the People . . . the Free Traders, I mean. I speak several languages. I know how to be- have in the Nine Worlds. I’ve been around a bit, not much and I'm no astrogator . . . but I’ve traveled a little. But besides that, I’ve seen how Pop — Colonel Baslim — worked. Maybe I could do some of it.” "You have to love this work to do it. Lots of times it’s nasty ... 116 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 118

things a man wouldn’t do, for his own self-respect, if he didn’t think it was necessary.” "But I do! Uh, I was a slave. You knew that? Maybe it would help if a man knew how a slave feels.” "Perhaps. Though it might make you too emotional. Besides, slave traffic isn’t all we are interested in. A man comes here, we don’t prom- ise him certain work. He does what he’s told. We use him. We usually use him up. Our casualty rate is high.” 'Til do what I’m told. I just hap- pen to be interested in the slave traffic. Why, most people here don’t seem to know it exists.” "Most of what we deal in the pub- lic wouldn’t believe. Can you expect the people you see around you to take seriously unbelievable stories about faraway places? You must remember that less than one per cent of the race ever leaves its various planets of birth.” "Uh, I suppose so. Anyhow they don’t believe it.” "’fhat’s not our worst handicap. The Terran Hegemony is no empire; it is simply leadership in a loose confederation of planets. The differ- ence between what the Guard could do and what it is allowed to do is very frustrating. If you have come here thinking that you will see slavery abolished in your lifetime, disabuse your mind. Our most opti- mistic target date is two centuries away — and by that time slavery will have broken out in planets not even discovered today. Not a problem to be solved once and for all. A con- tinuing process.” "All I want to know is, can I help?” "I don’t know. Not because you describe yourself as a junior enlisted man . . . we’re all pretty much the same rank in this place. The Exotic Corps is an idea, not an organization chart. I’m not worried about what Thorby Baslim can do; he can do something, even if it’s only trans- lating. But Rudbek of Rudbek ... I wonder.” "But I told you I was getting rid of that!” "Well — let’s wait until you have. By your own statement you are not presenting yourself for enrollment today. What about the other reason? Something to add to Colonel Baslim’s report?” Thorby hesitated. "Sir, Colonel Brisby, my C.O., told me that P . . . Colonel Baslim had proved a connec- tion between the slave trade and some big starship-building outfit.” "He told you that?” "Yes, sir. You could look it up in Colonel Baslim’s report.” "I don’t need to. Go on.” "Well ... is it Rudbek he was talking about? Galactic Transport, that is?” "Smith” considered it "Why ask me if your company is mixed up in slave trade? You tell us.” Thorby frowned. "Is there a Ga- lactovue around here?” "Down the hall.” "May I use it?” "Why not?” CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 117

Page 119

The Wing Marshal led him through a private corridor into a conference room dominated by a star- flecked stereo display. It was much the biggest Thorby had ever seen. He had to ask questions; it had complicated controls. Then he got to work. His face puckering with strain, Thorby painted in colored lights amid fairy stars the solid picture he had built in the Galactovue in his ofiice. He did not explain and the officer watched in silence. Thorby stepped back at last. "That’s all I know now." "You missed a few." The Wing Marshal added some lights in yellow, some in red, then working slowly, added half a dozen missing ships. “But that’s quite a feat to do from memory and a remarkable concatena- tion of ideas. I see you included yourself — maybe it does help to have a personal interest." He stepped back. "Well, Baslim, you asked a question. Are you ready to answer it.?’’ "I think Galactic Transport is in it up to here! Not everybody, but enough key people. Supplying ships. And repairs and fuel. Financing, maybe." "Hm-m-m . . .” "Is all this physically possible otherwise?” "You know what, they would say if you accused them of slave trad- ing—’’ "Not the trade itself. At least I don’t think so.” "Connected with it. First they would say that they had never heard of any slave trade, or that it was just a wild rumor. Then they would say that, in any case, they just sell ships 118 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 120

■ — and is a hardware dealer who sells a knife responsible if a husband carves his wife?" "The cases aren't parallel.” "They wouldn't concede that. They would say that they were not breaking any laws and even stipu- lating that there might be slavery somewhere, how can you expect peo- ple to get worked up over a possible evil light-years away? In which they are correct; .you can’t expect people to, because they won’t. Then some well-dressed character will venture the opinion that slavery — when it existed — was not so bad, because a large part of the population is really happier if they don’t have the re- sponsibilities of a free man. Then he’ll add that if they didn’t sell .ships, someone else would — it’s just busi- ness.” Thorby thought of nameless little Thorbys out there in the dark, cry- ing hopelessly with fear and loneli- ness and hurt, in the reeking holds of slavers — ships that might be his. "One stroke of the lash would change his slimy mind 1” "Surely. But we’ve abolished the lash here. Sometimes I wonder if we should have.” He looked at the display. 'Tm going to record this; it has facets not yet considered to- gether. Thanks for coming in. If you get more ideas, come in again.” Thorby realized that his notion of joining the corps had not been taken seriously. "Marshal Smith . . . there's one other thing I might do.” '"What?” "Before I join, if you let me . . . CITIZEN OE THE GAL.A.XY or maybe after; I don’t know how you do such things ... I could go out as Rudbek of Rudbek, in my own ship, and check those places — the red ones, ours. Maybe the boss can dig out things that a secret agent would have trouble getting close to.” "Maybe. But you know that your father started to make an inspection trip once. He wasn’t lucky in it.” Smith scratched his chin. "We’ve never quite accounted for that one. Until you showed up alive, we as- sumed that it was natural disaster. A yacht with three passengers, a crew of eight and no cargo doesn’t look like worthwhile pickings for bandits in business for profit — and they gen- erally know what they’re doing.” Thorby was shocked. "Are you suggesting that — ” "I’m not suggesting anything. But bosses prying into employees’ side- lines have, in other times and places, burned their fingers. And your father was certainly checking.” "About the slave trade?” "I couldn't guess. Inspecting. In that area. I’ve got to excuse myself. But do come see me again ... or phone and someone will come to you.” "Marshal Smith . . . what parts of this, if any, can be talked over with other people?” "Eh? Any of it. As long as you don’t attribute it to this corps, or to the Guard. But facts as you know them” — he shrugged — "who will believe you? Although if you talk to your business associates about your suspicions, you may arouse strong 119

Page 121

feelings against you personally . . . some of those feelings sincere and honest. The others? I wish I knew.” Thorby was so late that Leda was both vexed and bursting with curi- osity. But she had to contain it not only because of possible monitoring but because of an elderly aunt who had called to pay her respects to Rudbek of Rudbek, and was staying the night. It was not until next day, while examining Aztec relics in the Fifth of May Museum, that they were able to talk. Thorby recounted what Garsch had said, then decided to tell more. T looked into rejoining the Guard yesterday.” "Thor!” "Oh, I’m not walking out. But I have a reason. The Guard is the only organization trying to put a stop to slave traffic. But that is all the more reason why I can’t enlist now.” He outlined his suspicions about Rudbek and the traffic. Her face grew pale. "Thor, that’s the most horrible idea I ever heard. I can’t believe it.” "I’d like to prove it isn’t true. But somebody builds their ships, some- body maintains them. Slavers are not engineers; they’re parasites.” "I still have trouble believing that there is such a thing as slavery.” He shrugged. '"Ten lashes will convince anybody.” "Thor! You don’t mean they whipped you?” "I don’t remember clearly. But the scars are on my back.” 120 She was very quiet on the way home. Thorby saw Garsch once more, then they headed for the Yukon, in company with the elderly aunt, who had somehow attached herself. Garsch had papers for Thorby to sign and two pieces of information. "The first action has to be at Rudbek, because that was the legal residence of your parents. The other thing is, I did some digging in newspaper files.” "Yes?” "Your grandfather did give you a healthy block of stock. It was in stories about the whoop-te-do when you were born. The Bourse Journal listed the shares by serial numbers. So we’ll hit ’em with that, too — on the same day. Don’t want one to tip off the other.” "You’re the doctor.” "But I don’t want you in Rudbek until the clerk shouts 'Oyez!' Here’s a mail-drop you can use to reach me . . . even phone through, if you have to. And right smartly you set up a way for me to reach you.” Thorby puzzled over that require- ment, being hemmed in as he was by bodyguards. "Why don’t you, or somebody — a young man, maybe — • phone my cousin with a code mes- sage? People are always phoning her and most of them are young men. She’ll tell me and I’ll find a place to phone back.” "Good idea. He’ll ask if she knows how many shopping days are left till Christmas. All right — see you in ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 122

court.” Garsch grinned. "This is going to be fun. And very, very ex- pensive for you. G’bye." XXII "Have a nice vacation?” Uncle Jack smiled at him. "You’ve led us quite a chase. You shouldn’t do that, boy.” Thorby wanted to hit him but, although the guards let go his arms when they shoved him into the room, his wrists were tied. Uncle Jack stopped smiling and glanced at Judge Bruder. "Thor, you’ve never appreciated that Judge Bruder and I worked for your father, and for your grandfather. Naturally we know what’s best. But you’ve given us trouble and now we’ll just have to show you how we handle little boys who don’t appreciate decent treatment. We teach them. Ready, Judge?” Judge Bruder smiled savagely and took the whip from behind him. "Bend him over the desk!” Thorby woke up gasping. Whew, a bad one! He looked around the small hotel room he was in and tried to remember where he was. For days he had moved daily, sometimes half around the planet. He had become sophisticated in the folkways of this planet, enough not to attract atten- tion, and even had a new ID card, quite as good as a real one. It had not been difficult, once he realized that underworlds were much the same everywhere. CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY He remembered now — this was America de Sud. The bed alarm sounded — just mid- night, time to leave. He dressed and glanced at his baggage, decided to abandon it. He walked down the backstairs, out the back way. Aunt Lizzie had not liked the Yukon cold but she put up with it. Eventually someone called and re- minded Leda that there were few shopping days to Christmas, so they left. At Uranium City Thorby man- aged to return the call. Garsch grin- ned. "I’ll see you in the district court in-and-for the county of Rudbek, division four, at nine-fifty-nine the morning of January fourth. Now get lost completely.” So at San Francisco Thorby and Leda had a tiff in the presence of Aunt Lizzie; Leda wanted to go to Nice, Thorby insisted on Australia. Thorby said angrily, "Keep the air car! I’ll go by myself.” He flounced out and bought a ticket for Great Sydney. He pulled a rather old washroom trick, tubed under the Bay, and, con- vinced that his bodyguard had been evaded, counted tlie cash Leda had slipped him as privately as they had quarreled publicly. It came to a little under two hundred thousand credits. There was a note saying that she was sorry it wasn’t more but she had not anticipated need- ing money. While waiting at the South Amer- ican field Thorby counted what was left of Leda’s money and reflected 121

Page 123

that he had cut it fine, both time and money. Where did it all go? Photographers and reporters gave him a bad time at Rudbek city; the place swarmed with them. But he pushed through and met Garsch in- side the bar at nine-fifty-eight. The old man nodded. "Siddown. Hiz- zoner will be out soon.” The judge came out and a clerk intoned the ancient promise of jus- tice: "... Draw nigh and ye shall be heard!” Garsch remarked, "Bmder has this judge on a leash.” "Huh? Then why are we here?” "You’re paying me to worry. Any judge is a good judge when he knows he’s being watched. Look behind you.” Thorby did so. The place was so loaded with press that a common citizen stood no chance. "I did a good job, if I do say so.” Garsch hooked a thumb at the front row. "The galoot with the big nose is the am- bassador from Proxima. The old thief next to him is chairman of the judiciary committee. And — ” He broke off. Thorby could not spot Uncle Jack but Bruder presided over the other table — he did not look at Thorby. Nor could Thorby find Leda. It made him feel very much alone. But Garsch finished opening formalities, sat down and whispered. "Message for you. Young lady says to say 'Good luck.’ ” Thorby was active only in giving testimony and that after many objec- tions, counter-objections, and warn- 122 ings from the bench. While he was being sworn, he recognized in the front row a retired chief justice of the Hegemonic Ultimate Court who had once dined at Rudbek. Then Thorby did not notice anything, for he gave his testimony in deep trance surrounded by hypnotherapists. Although every point was chewed endlessly, only once did the hearing approach drama. The court sustained an objection by Bruder in such fash- ion that a titter of unbelief ran around the room and someone stamped his feet. The judge turned red. "Order! The bailiffs will clear the room!” The move to comply started, over protests of reporters. But the front two rows sat tight and stared at the judge. The High Ambassador from the "Vegan League leaned toward his secretary and whispered; the secre- tary started slapping a Silent-Steno. The judge cleared his throat. ". . . Unless this unseemly behavior ceases at once! This court will not tolerate disrespect.” Thorby was almost surprised when it ended: ". . . Must therefore be conclusively presumed that Creighton Bradley Rudbek and Martha Bradley Rudbek did each die, are now dead, and furthermore did meet their ends in common disaster. May their souls rest in peace. Let it be so recorded.” The court banged his gavel. "If cus- todians of wills of the decedents, if wills there be, are present in this court, let them now come forward.” There was no hearing about Thor- by’s own shares; Thorby signed a ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 124

receipt for certificates thereto in the judge’s chambers. Neither Weemsby nor Bruder was present. Thorby took a deep breath as Garsch and he came out of chambers. "I can hardly believe that we’ve won.” Garsch grinned. "Don’t kid your- self. We won the first round on jioints. Now it begins to get expen- sive.” Thorby’s mouth sagged. Rudbek guards moved in and started taking them through the crowd. Garsch had not overstated it. Bruder and Weemsby sat tight, still running Rudbek & Associates, and continued to fight. Thorby never did see his parents’ proxies — his only in- terest in them now was to see whether, as he suspected, the differ- ence between the papers Bruder had prepared and those of his parents lay in the difference between "revocable” and "revocable only by mutual agree- ment.” But when the court got around to ordering them produced, Bruder claimed that they had been destroyed in routine clearing from files of ex- pired instruments. He received a ten- day sentence for contempt, suspend- ed, and that ended it. But, while Weemsby was no longer voting the shares of Martha and Creighton Rudbek, neither was Thor- by; tlic shares were tied up while the wills were being proved. In the meantime, Bruder and Weemsby remained officers of Rudbek & As- sociates, with a majority of directors CITIZEN OP THE GALAXY backing them. Thorby was not even allowed in Rudbek Building, much less in his old office. Weemsby never went back to Rud- bek estate; his belongings were sent to him. Thorby moved Garsch into Weemsby’s aparbnent. The old man slept there often; they were very busy. At one point Garsch told him that there were ninety-seven actions, for or against, moving or pending, relat- ing to the settlement of his estate. The wills were simple in essence; Thorby was the only major heir. But there were dozens of minor bequests; there were relatives who misht ect o o something if the wills were set aside; the question of "legally dead” was again raised, the presumption of "common disaster” versus deaths at different times was hashed again; and Thorby’s very identity was ques- tioned. Neither Bruder nor Weemsby appeared in these actions; some re- lative or stpckliolder was always named as petitioner — Thorby was forced to conclude that Uncle Jack had kept everyone happy. But the only action that grieved him was brought by his grandparents Bradley, asking that he be made their ward ■ because of incompetence. The evidence, other than the admitted fact that he was new to the complexities of Terran life, was his Guardsman medical record — a Dr. Krishnamurti had endorsed that he was "poten- tially emotionally unstable and should not be held fully answerable for actions under stress.” Garsch had him examined in 123

Page 125

blatant publicity by the physician to the Secretary General of the Hege- monic Assembly. Thorby was found legally sane. It was followed by a stockholder’s suit asking that Thorby be found professionally unequipped to manage the affairs of Rudbek & Associates, in private and public interest. Thorby was badly squeezed by these maneuvers; he was finding it ruinously expensive to be rich. He was heavily in debt from legal costs and running Rudbek estate and had not been able to draw his own ac- cumulated royalties as Bruder and Weemsby continued to contend, de- spite repeated adverse decisions, that his identity was uncertain. But a weary time later a court three levels above the Rudbek district court awarded to Thorby — subject to ad- monitions as to behavior and unless revoked by court — the power to vote his parents’ stock until such time as their estates were settled. Thorby called a general meeting of stockholders, on stockholders’ ini- tiative as permitted by the by-laws, to elect officers. The meeting was in the auditorium of Rudbek Building; most stockhold- ers on Terra showed up even if rep- resented by proxy. Even Leda popped in at the last minute, called out merrily, "Hello, everybody!” then turned to her stepfather. "Daddy, I got the notice and decided to see the fun — so I jumped into the bus and hopped over. I haven’t missed anything, have 1?” 124 She barely glanced at Thorby, al- though he was on the platform with the officers. Thorby was relieved and hurt; he had not seen her since they had parted at San Francisco. He knew that she had residence at Rud- bek Arms in Rudbek city and was sometimes in town, but Garsch had discouraged him from getting in touch with her — "Man's a fool to chase a woman when she’s made it plain she doesn’t want to see him.” So he simply reminded himself that he must pay back her loan — with interest — as soon as possible. Weemsby called the meeting to order, announced that in accordance with the call the meeting would nominate and elect officers. "Min- utes and old business postponed by unanimous consent.” Bang! "Let the secretary call the roll for nominations for chairman of the board.” His face wore a smile of triumph. The smile worried Thorby. He controlled, his own and his parents’, just under 45% of tlie voting stock. From the names used in bringing suits and other indirect sources he thought that Weemsby controlled about 31%; Thorby needed to pick up 6%. He was counting on the emotional appeal of "Rudbek of Rudbek” — but he couldn’t be sure, even though Weemsby needed more than three times as many "uncertain” votes . . . uncertain to Thorby; they might be in Weemsby’s pocket. But Thorby stood up and nomi- nated himself, through his own stock. "Thor Rudbek of Rudbek!” After that it was pass, pass, pass, ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 126

over and over again — until Weemsby was nominated. There were no other nominations. "The Secretary will call the roll,’’ Weemsby intoned. "Announce your votes by shares as owners, followed by votes as proxy. The clerk will check serial numbers against the Great Record. Thor Rudbek ... of Rudbek.’’ Thorby voted all 45%-minus that he controlled, then sat down feeling very weary. But he got out a pocket calculator. There were 94,000 voting shares; he did not trust himself to keep tally in his head. The secretary read on, the clerk droned his checks of the record. 'Thorby needed to pick up 5657 votes, to win by one vote. CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 125

Page 127

He began slowly to’ pick up odd votes — 232, 906, 1917 — some of them directly, some through proxy. But Weemsby picked up votes also. Some shareholders answered, "Pass to proxy,’’ or failed to respond — as the names marched past and these missing votes did not appear, Thorby was forced to infer that Weemsby held those proxies himself. But still the additional votes for "Rudbek of Rudbek” mounted — 2205, 3036, 4309 . . . and there it stuck. The last few names passed. Garsch leaned toward him. "Just the sunshine twins left.’’ "I know.’’ Thorby put away his calculator, feeling sick — so Weemsby had won, after all. The secretary had evidently been instructed what names to read last. "The Honorable Curt Bruder!” Bruder voted his one qualifying share for Weemsby. "Our Chairman, Mr. John Weemsby.’’ Weemsby stood up and looked happy. "In my own person, I vote one share. By proxies delivered to me and now with the secretary I vote — ’’ Thorby did not listen; he was look- ing for his hat. "The tally being complete, I de- clare— ’’ the secretary began. "No!” Leda was on her feet. "I’m here myself. This is my first meeting and I’m going to vote!” Her stepfather said hastily, "That’s all right, Leda — mustn’t interrupt.” He turned to the secretary. "It doesn’t affect the result.” "But it does! I cast one thousand eight hundred and eighty votes for Thor, Rudbek of Rudbek!” Weemsby stared. "Leda Weems- by!” She retorted crisply, "My legal name is Leda Rudbek!' Bruder was shouting, "Illegal! The vote has been recorded. It’s too — ” "Oh, nonsense!” shouted Leda. "I’m here and I’m voting. Anyhow, I canceled that proxy — I registered it in the post office in this very build- ing and saw it delivered and signed for at the 'principal offices of this corporation’ — that’s the right phrase, isn’t it. Judge? — ten minutes before the meeting was called to order. If you don’t believe me, send down for it. But what of it? — I’m here. Touch me.” Then she turned and smiled at Thorby. I'horby tried to smile back, and whispered savagely to Garsch, "Why did you keep this a secret?” "And let 'Honest John’ find out that he had to beg, borrow, or buy some more votes? He might have won. She kept him happy, just as I told her to. That’s quite a girl, Thorby. Better option her.” Five minutes later Thorby, shak- ing and white, got up and took the gavel that Weemsby had dropped. He faced the crowd. "We will now elect the rest of the board,” he an- nounced, his voice barely under con- trol. The slate that Garsch and Thor- by had worked out was passed by acclamation — with one addition: Leda. Again she stood up. "Oh, no! You can’t do this to me.” 126 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 128

"Out of order. You’ve assumed responsibility, now accept it.” She opened her mouth, closed it, sat down. When the secretary declared the result, Thorby turned to Weemsby. "You are General Manager also, are you not?” "Yes.” "You’re fired. Your one share re- verts. Don’t try to go back to your former office; just get your hat and go-” Bruder jumped up. Thorby turned to him. "You, too. Sergeant-at-Arms, escort them out of the building.” XXIII Thorby looked glumly at a high stack of papers, each item flagged "URGENT.” He picked up one, started to read — put it down and said, "Dolores, switch control of my screen to me. Then go home.” Good girl, there. Loyal, he thought. Well, he hoped. He hadn’t dared use a new broom all the way; the administration had to have con- tinuity. He signaled a number. A voice without a face said, "Scramble Seven.” " 'Prometheus Bound,’ ” Thorby answered, "and nine makes sixteen.” "Scramble set up.” "Sealed,” Thorby agreed. The face of Wing Marshal "Smith” appeared. "Hi, Thor.” "Jake, I’ve got to postpone this month’s conference again. I hate to • — but you should see my desk.” "Nobody expects you to devote your entire time to corps matters.’* "Doggone it, that’s exactly what I planned to do — clean this place up fast, put good people in charge, grab my hat and enlist for the corps ! But it’s not that simple.” "Thor, no conscientious officer lets himself be relieved until his board is all green. We both knew that you had lots of lights blinking red.” "Well ... all right, I can’t m.ake the conference. Got a few minutes?’’ "Shoot,” agreed "Smith.” "I think I’ve got a boy to hunt porcupines. Remember?” " 'Nobody eats a porcupine.’ ” "Right! 'I’hough I had to see a picture of one to understand what you meant. To put it in trader terms, the way to kill a business is to make it unprofitable. Slave-raiding is a business, the way to kill it is to put it in the red. Porcupine spines on the victims will do it.” "If we had the spines,” the "X” Corps director agreed dryly. "You have an idea for a weapon?” "Me? What do you think I am? A genius? But I think I’ve found one. Name is Joel de la Croix. He’s supposed to be about the hottest thine M.I.T. ever turned ' out. I’ve gossiped with him about what I used to do as a fire-controlman in Sisu. He came up with some brilliant ideas without being prodded. Then he said, 'Thor, it’s ridiculous for a ship to be put out of action by a silly little paralysis beam when it has enough power in its guts to make a small star.’ ” CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY 127

Page 129

"A very small star. But I agree.” "O.K. I’ve got him stashed in our Havermeyer Labs in Toronto. As soon as your boys O.K. him, I want to hand him a truckload of money and give him a free hand. I'll feed him all I know about raider tactics and so forth — trance tapes, maybe, as I won’t have time to work with him much. I’m being run ragged here.” "He’ll need a team. This isn’t a home- workshop project.” "I know. I'll funnel names to you as fast as I have them. Project Por- cupine will have ail the men and money it can use. But, Jake, how many of these gadgets can I sell to the' Guard "Eh?” "I’m supposed to be running a business. If I run it into the ground, the courts will boost me out. I’m going to let Project Porcupine spend megabucks like water — but I’ve got to justify it to directors and stock- holders. If we come up with some- thing, I can sell several hundred units to Free Traders, I can sell some to ourselves — but I need to show a potential large market to justify the expenditure. How many can the Guard use?” "Thor, you’re worrying unneces- sarily. Even if you don’t come up with a superweapon — and your chances aren’t good — dl research pays off. Your stockholders won’t lose.” "I am not worrying unnecessarily! I’ve got this job by a handful of votes; a special stockholders’ meeting 128 could kick me out tomorrow. Sure research pays off, but not necessarily quickly. You can count on it that e\'ery credit I spend is reported to people who would, love to see me bumped — so I’ve got to have reason- able justification.” "How about a research contract?” "With a vice colonel staring down my boy’s neck and telling him what to do? We want to give him a free hand.” "Hm-m-m . . . yes. Suppose I get you a letter-of-intent? 'We’ll make the figure as high as possible. I’ll have to see the Marshal-in-Chief. He’s on Luna at the moment and I can’t squeeze time to go to Luna this week. You’ll have to wait a few days.” "I’m not going to wait; I'm going to assume that you can do it. Jake, I’m going to get things rolling and get out of this crazy job — if you won’t have me in the corps, I can always be an ordnanceman.” "Come on down this evening. I’ll enlist you — then I’ll order you to detached duty, right where you are.” Thorby’s chin dropped. "Jake! You wouldn’t do that to me!” "I would if you were silly enough to place yourself under my orders, Rudbek.” "But — ” Thorby shut up. There was no use arguing; there was too much work to be done. "Smith” added, "Anything else?” "I guess not.” "I’ll have a first check on De la Croix by tomorrow. See you.” ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 130

1’horby switched off, feeling glum- mer than ever. It was not the Wing Marshal’s half-whimsical threat, nor even his troubled conscience over spending large amounts of other peo- ple’s money on a project that stood little chance of success; it was simply that he was swamped by a job more complex than he had believed pos- sible. Me picked up the top item again, put it down, pressed the key that sealed him through to Rudbek estate. Leda was summoned to the screen. 'Til be late again. I’m sorry.” . 'Til delay dinner. They’re enjoy- ing themselves and I had the kitchen make the canapes substantial.” Thorby shook his head. “Take the head of the table. I'll eat here. I may sleeji here.” She sighed. "If you sleep. Look, my stupid dear, be in bed by mid- night and up not before six. Prom- ise.^” “O.K. If possible.” "It had better be possible, or you will have trouble with me. See you.” Me didn’t even pick up the top item this time; he simply sat in thought. Good girl, Leda . . . she had even tried to help in the business - until it had become clear that business was not her forte. But she was one bright spot in the gloom; she always bucked him up. If it wasn’t patently unfair for a Guards- man to marry — But he couldn’t be that unfair to Leda and he had no reason to think she would be willing anyhow. It was unfair enough for him to duck out of a big dinner CITIZEN OF THE GALAXY party at the last minute. Other things. It had all seemed so self-evident; just take over, fumigate that sector facing the Sargony, then pick some- body else to run it. But the more he dug, the more there was to do. Taxes . . . the tax situation was incredibly snarled; it always was. That expan- sion program the ’Vegan group was pushing — how could he judge unless he went there and looked ? And would he know if he did ? And how could he find tmel Funny, but a man who owned a thousand starships automatically never had time to ride ^in even one of them. Maybe in a year or tv\'o — No, those confounded wills wouldn’t even be settled in that time! — two years now and the courts were still chewing it. Why couldn’t death be handled decently and simply the way the People did it? In the meantime he wasn’t free to go on with Pop’s work. True, he had accomplished a little. By letting "X” Corps have access to Rudbek’s files some of the picture had filled in — Jake had told him that a raid which had wiped out one slaver pesthole had resulted directly from stuff the home office knew and hadn’t known that it knew. ^ Or had somebody known? Some days he thought Weemsby and Bruder had had guilty knowledge, some days not — for all that the files showed was legitimate business . . . sometimes with wrong people. But who knew that they were the wrong people ? He opened a drawer, got out a 129

Page 131

folder with no "URGENT” flag on it simply because it never left his hands. It was, he felt, the most urgent thing in Rudbek, perhaps in the Galaxy — certainly more urgent than Project Porcupine because this matter was certain to cripple, or at least hamper, the slave trade, while Porcupine was a long chance. But his progress had been slow — too much else to do. Of course, in a tough spot he could always ask himself: "What would Pop do.^” Colonel Brisby had phrased that — "I just ask myself, 'What would Colonel Baslim do?’ ” It helped, especially when he had to remember also what the presiding judge had warned him about the day his parents’ shares had been turned over to him: "No man can own a thing to himself alone, and the big- ger it is, the less he owns it. You are not free to deal with this property arbitrarily nor foolishly. Your in- terest does not override that of other stockholders, nor of employees, nor of the public.” Thorby had talked that . warning over with Pop before deciding to go ahead with Porcupine. Garsch stuck his head in. "Still running under the whip ? What’s the rush, boy?” "Jim, where can I find ten honest men?” "Huh? Diogenes was satisfied to hunt for one. Gave him more than he could handle.” "Know any other solution? I’ll have each one relieve a manager in 130 the smelly sector and send the man he relieves back — we can't fire them; we'll have to absorb them. Because we don’t knoiv. But the new men we can trust and each one will be taught how the slave trade operates and what to look for.” Garsch shrugged. "It’s the best we can do. But forget the notion of doing it in one bite; we won’t find that many qualified men at one time. Now look, boy, you ain’t going to solve it tonight no matter how long you stare at those names. When you are as old as I am, you’ll know you can’t do everything at once — provided you don't kill your- self first. Either way, some day you die and somebody else lias to do the work. You remind me of the man who set out to count stars. Faster he counted, the more new stars kept turning up. So he went fishing. Which you should, early and often.” "Jim, why did you agree to come here? I don’t sec you quitting work when the others do.” "Because I’m an old idiot. Some- body had to give you a hand. Maybe I relished a chance to take a crack at anything as dirty as the slave trade and this was my way — I'm too old and fat to do it any other way.” Thorby nodded. "I thought so. I’ve got another way — only, con- found it. I’m so busy doing what I must do that I don't have time for what I ought to do . . . and I never get a chance to do what I ivant to do!” "Son, that’s universal. The way to keep that recipe from killing you ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 132

is occasionally to do what you want to do anyhow. Which is right now. There’s all day tomorrow ain’t touch- ed yet . . . and you are going out with me and have a sandwicli and look at pretty girls.” 'Tm going to have dinner sent up.” "No, you aren’t.” "But I have to, Jim — I’ve got responsibilities.” "Sure you have,” agreed the old man. "Any citizen has responsibil- ities. That’s what being a citizen is — a man with responsibilities. And if he is a citizen not just of some mud-walled village, but a citizen of tlic Galaxy — as you are — his respon- sibilities can durn near kill him. Mayhap you had a better time of it as a slave.” "I certainly did!” "Doubtless. But being a citizen has its compensations, too, and ones a lot more satisfying to a grown man. Howsoever you still can’t do it all in one day — even a steel ship has to have time out for maintenance. So come along now.” 'I'horby looked at the stack of papers. "O.K.” d’he old man munched his sand- wich, drank his lager, and watched pretty girls, with a smile of innocent pleasure. They were indeed pretty girls;, Rudbek city attracted the high- est-paid talent in show business. But Thorby did not see them. He was thinking. A person can’t run out on respon- sibility. A captain can't, a chief officer can’t. But he did not see how, if he went on this way, he would ever be able to join Pop’s corps. But Jim was right; here was a place where the filthy business had to be fought, too. Even if he didn’t like this way to fight it? Yes. Colonel Brisby had once said, about Pop: "It means being so devoted to freedom that you are willing to give up your own . . . be a beggar ... or a slave ... or die — that freedom may live.” Yes, Pop, but I don’t know hotv to do this job. I’d do it . . . I’m trying to do it. But I’m just fum- bling. I don’t have any talent for it. Pop answered, "Nonsense/ You can learn to do anything if you apply yourself. You’re going to learn if I have to beat your silly head ini” "Pop. I’ll try.” ''You’ll do more than try I" "I’ll do it. Pop.” "Now eat your dinner.” Obediently Thorby reached for his spoon, then noticed that it was a sandwich instead of a bowl of stew. Garsch said, "What are you mutter- ing about?” "Nothing. I just made up my mind.” "Give your mind a rest and use your eyes instead. There’s a time and a place for everything.” "You’re right, Jim.” "Good flight, Son,” the old beggar whispered. "Good dreams . , , and good luck!” THE END CITIZEN OP THE GALAXY 131

Page 133

The trouble with writing articles for Astounding is that you get inter- ested in a SLibject in direct proportion to the anaount you write about it, and start fmtiing it difficult to shake free. For instance, almost a year ago I wanted to write an article about the origin of life. By the time I finished the first draft I found I had to write an article about the ori- gin of the atmosphere first. Having done that, I find I have just gotten myself in the more deep- ly. Now I find I must go back even further. After all, there are things about the Earth that are essential to life and that are even more funda- T mental than the existence of an atmosphere. For instance, Earth is solid, isn’t it.^ Well, it is, yet there is one piece of evidence which makes it look as though Earth, at some time in the past, has been liquid. Earth consists, you see, of two portions of radically different chemical composition. At the center of the Earth — like the yolk of an egg . . . and in roughly the same proportion — lies a "core” which consists of iron and of substances soluble in iron. About this core lies an outer layer — like the white of an egg — made up of silicates and sub- Once men spoke of “the eter- nal mountains.” Geologists changed that idea. There re- mained “the everlasting stars” . . . until astrophysicists inves- tigated more carefully. Atoms, however, last forever ...don’t they? BY ISAAC ASIIOV 132 stances which are soluble in silicates. (There may be a thinnish layer in be- tween made up of iron sulfide.) If Earth were liquid at one time, this state of affairs would be quite reasonable. Earth would not have consisted of a single liquid mixture of everything in and on the Earth; it would not, in other words, be a "one-phase system.” It would be made up of two liquid phases; an iron phase and a liquid phase. Every- thing else would dissolve in one phase or the other, or to some extent in both. These two phases would be mutually insoluble, like oil and water. Tlie iron phase is some three times as dense as the silicate phase ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 134

so it would settle to the center of the planetary mass. The light silicate phase would rise to the top — like cream in unhomogenized milk — and float on the iron. If the Earth had never been liquid but had been solid throughout its history, this iron/silicate stratification might still take place, but it would lake enormous time and make for a much more complicated situation in general. Just for fun, let’s stick with the "liquid-Earth-in-the-beginning” notion and see where that takes us. 'Ehc first question is whether the idea of a liquid Earth is reasonable .it all. The answer to that depends and having ended as a solid globe of matter, must have passed through a liquid stage. A liquid Earth would then be not only reasonable; it would be an unavoidable necessity. But there’s trouble there. Solar catastrophes have gone out of fash- ion. Not only can the dynamics of the Solar System not be explained by solar catastrophes, no matter how many bugger factors are introduced — and some fancy ones have been — ■ but it seems that material shot out of the Sun would never coalesce but would merely expand and expand and expand and become interstellar matter. OF RAOIOACIIVITY partly on the kind of process that was responsible for forming the Earth. There are two general types of hypotheses concerning the origin of tlie Earth. One is the "creation by solar c.atastrophe’’ hypothesis. The Sun passed near another star, or collided with one, or had a compan- ion that collided with one, or had a small explosion nova- fashion. In any case, matter was flung out, or Jill I led out, of the Sun or of a nearby star, and this matter coalesced, cooled down, and became the planets and .satellites of today. If this were so, then naturally the Earth, having started as Sun-hot gas The second type of hypothesis — and actually the older of the two — • is "creation by gradual accumula- tions.’’ In other words the Universe is considered to have started as a conglomeration of individual atoms. These hit one another and sometimes stick together to form tiny solid particles that slowly grow. The mutual gravitation of these particles causes them to break up into turbulent Galaxy-sized portions. Within these portions, knots of local concentrations are formed and out of these grow the stars. (There seems good evidence that this sort of star-formation has been continuing steadily ever since the Universe be- TIIE WHENABOUTS OF RADIOACTIVITY 133

Page 135

gan and is in progress today in suit- able part of our own Galaxy and of others. ) As the particles at the center of each particle-cloud collect into a mass, the process speeds up auto- catalytically because the gravitational field becomes more intense. The ki- netic energy of particles falling in- ward into the growing "proto-star” is converted to heat and the tempera- ture rises. Eventually, the tempera- ture and internal pressure of the mass of matter gets high enough to start thermonuclear reactions going, and the proto-star becomes a star. Meanwhile, in the outer regions of the original cloud are formed sub- sidiary centers of much smaller ac- cumulations and these form the planets and their satellites. Theories of this type haven’t had all the bugs ironecl out of them, either, but they’re leading the pack at the moment. The "creation by gradual accumu- lation” hypothesis, however, need not imply the existence of a liquid Earth ever in its history. Solid parti- cles getting together can, conceivably, simply form a solid planet. To form a liquid planet out of solid particles requires a source of heat, and a layge one. The primitive sun, as a source of heat, is not likely. It isn’t hot enough to melt Earth now — fortu- nately— and it was undoubtedly cool- er in those early days. The kinetic energy of particles fall- ing together to form the solid Earth W'ould be converted to heat and I suppose that is a possible source of 134 the heat. Certainly that is enough to heat the Sun to the thermonuclear kindling point. Elowever, the Earth is a minute mass in comparison to the Sun. There is far less kinetic energy involved in Earth’s formation than in the Sun’s, and we ought to look further. Fortunately, there is one other massive source of energy available — radioactivity. As the Earth is formed, its accumulating matter would trap a certain number of radioactive atoms. A number of these radioactive atoms would be breaking down at any given moment. Each atom, as it broke down would liberate an amount of energy many billions of times greater than that represented by the kinetic energy with which it struck the growing Earth in tlie first place. In fact, the internal heat of the Earth today almost certainly origi- nates from the breakdown of radio- active atoms that make up part of its structure today — so we may have something. But certainly Earth’s radioactivity isn’t enough to liquefy it, — not today, anyway. Earth isn’t liquid now and definitely hasn’t been for at least three and one half billion years into the past. Why then should radioactiv- ity have liquefied it in the beginning? Or, if somehow radioactivity did do that, why isn’t Earth still liquid? Why has it solidified ? Let’s see. I can begin by considering the most familiar radioactive element of ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 136

all, which is also the first element discovered to be radioactive — urani- um. The radioactive properties of a particLilar uranium atom depend on (he structure of its nucleus, and not all uranium atoms are the same in that respect. for every element there are a number of possibilities, as far as nuclear structure is concerned. Some ol these possibilities may be stable, some unstable. (The unstable ones rearrange themselves into stable iorms, sometimes giving off a photon of energy, sometimes shooting out particles or combinations of parti- cles from the nuclei. This is radio- activity.) An atom with a particular nuclear structure is referred to as a nuclide. A partiadar nuclide is expressed by the name — or symbol — of the ele- ment of which it is a variety, together with a number representing the total number of protons plus neutrons present in its nucleus. For instance, uranium, as it occurs naturally, is made up almost entirely oi two nuclides, uranium-2.38 and uranium-235. Of the two, uranium- 238 is by far the more common. Out ol every thousand uranium atoms, nine hundred ninety-three are urani- iim-238, only seven are uranium-235. So, for the moment, let’s concentrate on uranium-238. An individual uranium-238 atom is unstable. That is, if you wait long enough, its nucleus will explode and eject a small part of its contents. 'What is left of the atom will then no longer be uranium-238. But how long a wait is 'Tong enough?” If you’re watching a single uranium-238 atom, there is no way to tell. You may have to wait less than a second for the breakdown; you may have to wait more than a trillion years. However, if you’re dealing with a number of uranium-238 atoms, you can predict with good accuracy — the greater the number, the better the accuracy — ^how many would explode during the next second; or how many would explode between 2:00 and 3:00 p.m. of next Tuesday. For instance, if you begin with exactly one pound of perfectly pure uranium-238, you are quite safe in predicting that 5,500,000 atoms of uranium-238 will explode each sec- ond. You can’t predict which indi- vidual atoms will do this, but you know the figure. (This is statistics, you see — the magic system by which insurance companies can predict how many Americans are dying each sec- ond, and adjust their rates accord- ingly, even though they could never in the world tell for sure when any one particular healthy American will die.) At a 5;500,000 atom per second breakdown, it may sound to you as though the pound of uranium does not have long for this world, but if so, you are quite wrong. There are about 1,200,000,000,000,000,000,- 000,000 atoms in that pound alto- gether, so what are a few taillion atoms per second? In fact, if uranium-238 atoms Broke down indefinitely at the rate THE WHENABOUTS OP RADIOACTIVITY 135

Page 137

of 5,500,000 a second, half the pound of uranium would be gone in three knd one third billion years; not before. Even that figure is an underestimate because uranium-238 atoms do not break down at a steady rate. The rate varies directly as the number of intact uranium-238 atoms varies. As soon as some of the ura- nium-238 breaks down, less intact atoms are left, and the rate decreases. Of course, the rate falls off so slowly that, as far as such a puny stretch of time as, say, the lifetime of a giant sequoia is concerned, the rate is just about constant. A pound of uranium-238 breaking down at the rate of 5,500,000 per second, would still be breaking down at the rate of 4,750,000 per second a billion years hence. A fourteen per cent decline in a billion years isn’t much. Nevertheless, the decline is sufS- cient to make it necessary for four and one half billion years to pass before half that pound of uranium was gone; not the three and one third billion that would have been neces- sary if the breakdown rate had re- mained constant. Furthermore, when half a pound of uranium is left, the breakdown rate has also decreased to half so that it takes another four and one half billion years for half of that half-pound to go; then an- other four and one half billion years for half of the quarter-pound to go, and so on. The four and one half billion year period is the "half-life” of uranium- 238. Starting with a certain amount of uranium-238 and knowing its 3.36 half-life it is possible to calculate how much uranium-238 there will be left at any particular time in the future. It is also possible to calcu- late how much uranium-238 there was at any time in the past to account for the quantity that is left now. The mathematics involved is simple enough for me to handle, so it’s very simple. Every radioactive nuclide has its own characteristic half-life and the rate of its breakdown varies accord- ingly. For instance, the less common uranium nuclide, uranium-235, is also unstable and has a half-life of a mere 710,000,000 years. This is less than one sixth the half-life of its big brother. This is just another way of saying that uranium-235 is breaking down at more than six times the rate of uranium-238. A pound of pure uranium-235 would be under- going 35,000,000 breakdowns per second. We can move in the other direc- tion by focusing on the second ele- ment discovered to be radioactive — thorium. Naturally-occurring thorium consists, for all practical purposes, of a single nuclide, thorium-232. Its half-life is 13.9 billion years, or about three and one fourth times as long as that of uranium-238. It fol- lows that thorium 232 is breaking down that much less frequently. A pound of pure thorium-232 would undergo only 1,800,000 breakdowns per second. To calculate the amount of radio- activity present in the Earth right ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 138

now, we can begin by listing the radioactive nuclides that exist in the Earth. You’ll find them in Table 1, together with the half-life of each. TABLE I Radioactive Nuclides Existing on Earth Today Nuclide Half-life (in years) Bismuth-209 Calcium-48 Zirconium-96 Ncodymiura-150 Neodymium-144 Indium-115 Tungsten- 180 Vanadium-50 Platinum-190 Samarium-l47 Lanthanum-138 Rhenium-187 Rubidium-87 Lutetium-176 Thorium-232 Uranium-238 Potassium-40 Uranium-235 200,000,000,000,000,000 20,000,000,000,000,000 20,000,000,000,000,000 10,000,000,000,000,000 2,000,000,000,000,000 600,000,000,000,000 300.000. 000.000.000 100.000. 000.000.000 1,000,000,000,000 130.000. 000.000 110.000. 000.000 50,000,000,000 50.000. 000.000 30.000. 000.000 14.000. 000.000 4.500.000. 000 1.300.000. 000 710,000,000 Some of the half-lives are tremen- dously long and nuclides of that sort break down very rarely. For instance, a pound of pure bismuth-209 will undergo only ten breakdowns per second and its radioactivity was only detected in 1954. Extremely long half-lives are very hard to determine and some of the bigger figures in Table 1 are just rough guesses, really. It may be that Table 1 isn’t com- plete. A few more nuclides with super-Methusaleh half-lives may be detected. Tellurium-130, for instance, has been reported to have a half-life at least five thousand times longer than that of bismuth-209. At least! If so, a pound of pure tellurium- 130 will undergo not more than a single radioactive breakdown per day. Ob- viously, the contribution of such nuclides to Earth’s radioactivity can be ignored, and I will ignore it accordingly. There are also nuclides with short- er half-lives than any of those in Table 1. For one thing, nuclear physicists have created over a thou- sand radioactive nuclides in the laboratory with half-lives ranging from the millions of years down to millionths of a second. For the most part, these short-lived radioactive nuclides do not exist on Earth natu- rally and they can also be ignored. Some of the exceptions, like car- bon-l4 — half-life, fifty-six hundred years — or hydrogen-3 — half-life, twelve and one-fourth years — are formed continuously by cosmic- ray action on the atoms of the upper atmosphere, so they do exist only in Earth’s outermost skin, how- ever, in the air, the oceans and the top few feet of its soil. Even there, they exist in very small quantities. They can be ignored also. However, one group of short-lived radioactive nuclides can not be ignored, and there’s a small explana- tion that goes along with that. Of the nuclides listed in Table 1, all but thorium-232, uranium-235 and uranium-238 break down once and that’s all. By virtue of that single breakdown they are converted into stable nuclides that break down no further. Uranium-238, however, in break- ing down, changes into a nuclide THE WHBNABOUTS OF KADIOAGTIVITY 137

Page 139

that is not stable but is itself radio- active. This second nuclide breaks down further to a third nuclide, still radioactive, which breaks down in its turn, and so on. Eventually, after a number of breakdowns, the stable nuclide, lead-206, is produced and that breaks down no further. Any sample of uranium-238, there- fore, however pure to begin with, is always producing these intermediate radioactive nuclides, "daughter nu- clides” so to speak, which contribute to the total radioactivity of uranium- 238 as found in Nature. All the daughter nuclides are short-lived, and, therefore, break down at tre- mendous rates. The longest-lived of them has a half-life of two hundred fifty thousand years — long for us but not long for an atom — and conse- quently breaks down twenty thousand times faster than does uranimn-238. The shortest-lived daughter nuclide has a half-life of less than a thou- sandth of a second and it breaks down trillions of trillions of times faster. The daughter nuclides are present in only tiny cjuantities in uranium. They build up to "radioactive equi- librium” and after that accumulate no further, since they then reach the point where they break down just as fast as they are formed. Only the stable lead-206 accumulates with time. The story is very similar for ura- nium-235, which has its own set of daughter nuclides different from those of uranium-238; and for thorium-232, with still a third set. 138 But, although these daughter nu- clides are important and cannot be ignored, there is no point in worry- ing about them separately. Each set accompanies its parent nuclide and shares its fate. If there is more or less uranium-238, there are more or less of the daughter nuclides in exact proportion. Later on in the article, when I calculate the actual heat production involved in the breaktlown of the uranium and thorium nuclides, I will calculate it all the way to the produc- tion of the stable lead isotopes. This will automatically take into account the heat produced by the daughter nuclides and we will not be ignoring them. Now that the radioactive nuclides are listed, the next question is how much of Earth’s radioactivity is due to each one separately and to all of them together. One of the factors on which this depends is on how much of each nuclide in question is present in the Earth. There are some fairly reliable fig- ures for the chemical make-up of the Earth’s crusty but the crust isn’t a good sample of the Earth’s constitu- tion as a whole. Unfortunately, direct analysis of the Earth’s interior, which would balance the figures for the crust, is, as yet, impossible. However, a number of chemical analyses have been conducted on meteorites and it may just be reason- able to hope that the overall compo- sition of a number of meteorites may resemble that of the Earth as a whole. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 140

There are iron meteorites with a composition resembling what we ex- pect of the Earth’s core; and there are stony meteorites whose composi- tion resembles that of the Earth’s crust. (Are the meteorites remnants of an exploded planet which had already gone through its liquid stage and separated into iron and silicate phases?) Once we have the figures for the elementary composition of any object, it is easy to figure out the concentra- tion of any particular nuclide. Every element is made up of one or more nuclides in known proportions, and I gave an example of this earlier in the case of uranium. These propor- tions can make quite a difference. For instance, potassium is one of the most common elements, but the radioactive nuclide, potassium-40 isn’t at all common. For every ten thousand potassium atoms, nine thou- sand three hundred and eight are the stable nuclide, potassium-39; six hun- dred ninety-one are the stable nu- clide, potassium-41; and only one is the radioactive nuclide, potassium-40. From meteorite data and from nuclide proportions within elements, I have worked up Table 2, which is an attempt to guess reasonably at the relative proportions of the various radioactive nuclides present in the Earth, both by atom and by weight. Calculating by weight introduces a bias toward the heavier nuclides. For instance, there are three times as many potassium-40 atoms in the Earth as there are uranium-238 TABLE II Radioactive Nuclides in the Earth AtomB jyresent for every 10 bUlicrn Pounds ■per tiwusand cubic yards Nu-cUde in the Earth of Earth Calcium-48 1,500,000 2,380 Thorium-232 91,000 705 Zirconium-96 60,000 190 Uranium-238 35,000 276 Rubidium-87 31.000 90 Neodymium-144 12,200 flA Potassium-40 10,800 14.3 Vanadium-50 4,800 8.0 Indium-115 3,400 12.9 Neodymium- 150 2,900 14.5 Samarium-147 2,700 13.1 Tungsten-180 310 2.04 Uranium-235 250 1.95 I-utetium-176 190 1.10 Lanthanum-138 29 0.130 Rhenium- 187 17 0.105 Bismuth-209 15 0.105 Platinura-190 4 0.025 atoms. However, the individual ura- nium-238 atom is six times as heavy as the individual potassium-40. Con- sequently, the weight of uranium-238 in the Earth is twice that of the potassium-40. (Of course, you might also say that calculating by atom in- troduces a bias toward the lighter nuclides.) As you can see from Table 2, the total number of radioactive nuclides in Earth comes out just over one mil- lion seven hundred fifty thousand per ten billion atoms. That means that about one atom out of every six thous- and in the planet is potentially radio- active. Or, since one thousand cubic yards of average Earth material — counting in the iron core as well as the silicate crust — comes to a weight of four thousand six hundred forty THE WIIENABOUTS OF RADIOACTIVITY ISO

Page 141

tons — it turns out that there are about twelve ounces of radioactive mate- rial to the ton of Earth. However, these are spurious fig- ures. About two thirds of the weight of radioactive nuclides is made up of calcium-48 which has a half-life forty million times as long as that of ura- nium-238. It is, therefore, only a forty millionth as radioactive. Despite its presence in quantity it contributes little to Earth’s heat. In fact, to weigh the nuclides properly, occurrence and half-lives must both be taken into account. These can be used to calculate the number of breakdowns per second in a thousand cubic yards of Earth for each of the nuclides under discussion. This will give a truer picture of the contribution each makes to Earth’s radioactivity. This is done in Table 3. TABLE III Radioactive Breakdowns in the Earth Nuclide Breakdoivns per second in a thousand cubic yards oi Earth Potassium-40 1,600,000,000 Uranium-238 1,500,000,000 Thorium-232 1,270,000,000 Rubidium-87 122,000,000 Uranium-235 68,000,000 Samarium- 147 4,200,000 Lutetium-176 1,200,000 Rhenium-187 66,000 Calcium-48 15,000 Vanadium- 50 10,000 Neodymium-144 1,200 Indium-115 1,100 Platinum-190 800 Zirconium-96 600 Tungsten-180 230 Neodymium-150 60 Lanthanum-138 50 Bismuth-209 0.01 Several interesting things turn up in Table 3. In the first place, the total number of breakdowns per sec- ond in a thousand cubic yards of Earth seems appallingly high — nearly five billion. It almost sounds as though radiation sickness were Just around the corner. Well, it’s not quite that bad. For one thing, there are so many atoms in a thousand cubic yards of Earth that only one atom out of sixty billion trillion is breaking down each second. Actually, in an average pound of Earth* there are only six hundred breakdowns per second. Or, if you count in the breakdowns of the small quantities of very unstable daughter nuclides arising from uranium and thorium, the total number would be four thousand per second. Compare this with the five million five hun- dred thousand breakdowns per sec- ond in a pound of uranium-238 — or seventy-seven million, if you count in the breakdowns among the daugh- ter nuclides. Furthermore, virtually all the radioactivity of Earth is absorbed by the Earth itself and is converted into heat. Very little escapes through the surface and hits us, so the only radia- tion sickness we have to worry about is what we create ourselves with our pleasant little hydrogen bombs. Another thing apparent from the table is that 99-9 per cent of the radioactive breakdowns in the Earth *I hope you notice the capitalization. A pound of Earth is not the same as a pound of earth by any means. The latter is outermost crust only while the former is a well-mixed, or homogenized, sample of the whole planet. 140 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 142

is the result of the instability of just five nuclides : potassium-40, uranium- 238, thorium-232, rubidium-87 and uranium-235 in that order. The rest, no matter how common individuals among them may be, contribute not more than one-thousandth of the total planetary radioactivity and can be dismissed. I’m still not being quite fair. The number of breakdowns is all very well, but the important thing is the energy produced. From the stand- jioint of the effect on heating the Earth, one energetic breakdown can be more important than ten very mild ones. Fortunately, it is possible to calculate the energy production for each type of nuclide breakdown without undue brain-strain. 'Fake the case of rubidium-87. Its exact mass — in atomic mass units — ■ is 86.93687. When it breaks down, it is converted to strontium-87 — a stable nuclide — which has a mass of 86.93613. In the process, you see, 0.00074 units of mass has "disappeared”; that is, it has been converted into energy. I'he energy developed as a result of the conversion of that quantity of mass can be calculated by using the equation : e = mc^. The quantity, c, is the speed of light in centimeters per second and c^ turns out to be 8.98661 X lO^o cm^/sec^. If we multiply that by 0.00074, we come out with the number of ergs — an energy unit — produced by the breakdown of one mole — 6.02 x 10^3 atoms — of rubidium-87. Knowing that we can calculate the energy produced by the breakdown of any number of rubidi- um-87 atoms. Uranium-238 breaks down in more complicated fashion. It ends up as lead-206, but in the process, it and its daughter nuclides, among them, produce eight alpha particles — which are helium-4 nuclei — for each lead- 206 produced. The mass of uranium-238 is 238.12522. That of lead-206 plus eight helium-4 is 238.06979 and the mass discrepancy is 0.05543. This is seventy-five times as great as the mass loss in rubidium-87 breakdown and the energy produced per break- down is also seventy-five times as great. For each of the nuclides, the energy given off per million break- downs can be calculated in this fashion, and the results are given in Table 4. TABLE IV Energy Production of Various Radioactive Nuclides Ergs of energy produced per million breakdotons 82.6 74.3 69.5 2.15 1.10 Nuclide Uranium-238 Uranium-235 Thorium-232 Potassium-40 Rubidium-87 With the information in Table 4, it is possible to calculate the ergs produced by each nuclide each second in a thousand cubic yards of Earth THE WHENABOUTS OF RADIOACTIVITY 141

Page 143

and that is given in Table 5. Notice that in terms of energy production, rubidium-87 sinks into insignificance, TABLE V Radioactive Energy Production in the Earth Nuclide Ergs produced per second in a thousand yards of Earth Uranium-238 124,000 Thorium-232 88,200 Uranium-235 5,100 Potassium-40 3,400 Rubidium-87 130 Total 220,830 and we needn’t worry about it any more. Only the big four need con- cern us. Now that we have some notion as to the energy production of radio- activity in the Earth today, we can extend that knowledge into the past. For instance, grant that there is a given amount of uranium-238 in the Earth today. Its half-life is four and one half billion years. That means that four and one half billion years ago, there was twice as much urani- um-238 present in the Earth as there is now. For every radioactive break- down per second uranium-238 causes in the Earth now, it was causing two breakdowns per second then. For every erg per second it produces now, it was producing two ergs per second then. For a nuclide s\'ith a longer half- life, the buildup, as we move into the past, is not as rapid (just as the decline as we move into the future is not as -rapid). Thorium-232, with a half-life of fourteen billion years would double in quantity only if we mo^'ed fourteen billion years into the past. A mere four and one half bil- lion years ago, there would only have been about one-fourth more thorium- 232 on Earth than there is now. On the other hand, uranium-235 would exist in twice the jiresent quantity only seven hundred ten mil- lion years ago. If we moved back four and one half billion years, ura- nium-235 would have had a chance to double and double again and again about six times altogether. There would be some seventy times as much of it then as there is now. Knowing half-lives and present cjLiantity of any nuclide, it is possible to calailate backward to any time in the past and determine the quantity (and hence, energy production) then as compared with now. Specifically, we can calculate back to the time of the formation of the Earth. But first, how long ago was Earth formed? The oldest rocks on Earth whose ages have been measured ap- pear to have existed in solid form for somewhere between three and one half billion and four billion years, and Earth must undoubtedly be older than that. By the "formation through gradual accumulation’’ hy- pothesis, the Earth is as old as the Sun and astrophysicists now pin a possible age of five billion years on the Sun. That’s a nice figure. I’m willing to adopt it. So now let’s calculate the energy production per second in ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION 142

Page 144

a thousand cubic yards of Earth and compare it with the present. This is done in Table 6. TABLE VI Radioactive Energy Production at Time of Earth’s Formation Energy Prodiiction Loss of (ergs/second/1000 miclidc cubic yds.) shice Nuclide five biliion years ago formation of Earth Uianium-235 670,000 99.9% Uninium-238 257,000 51.5% Thorium-232 113,000 22.0% Polassium-40 48,400 93.0% Total 1,088,400 19.&7o The main point made by Table 6 is that at the time of the formation of the Earth, the energy production due to uranium-235 was responsible for more than sixty per cent of all radioactive energy production and that total radioactive energy produc- tion was just about five times as high at the time of Earth’s formation as it is now. Furthermore, it is uranium-235 decay which is responsible for most of the decline in radioactive energy production. Of all the radioactive nuclides tliat have disappeared in Earth’s five billion years history, live out of eight have been uranium- 235 (and its daughter nuclides). Before I go any further, though, is it possible that I am missing a bet ? Perhaps some nuclide, still shorter- lived than uranium-235, might have been present in the Earth at its formation and have contributed to radioactive energy production. To be sure, no such nuclide exists in Nature today, but that’s the very point. It would have decayed so rapidly that none would be left now. Let’s see. The longest-lived nuclides that we know of with half-lives shorter than that of uranium-235 are listed in Table 7. There are only six nuclides, TABLE VII The Medium-Lived Nuclides Nuclide Plutonium-244 Samarium-146 Le.ad-205 Uranium-236 Iodine-129 Tantalum-180 Half-Life (iiears) 70.000. 000 50.000. 000 50.000. 000 24.000. 000 17.000. 000 10.000. 000 as you see, known to have half-lives of ten million years or more below the uranium-235 mark and the long- est-lived of them has a half-life of only seventy million years. (It is ex- tremely unlikely that any luiclides in the ten million and up half-life range remain yet to be discovered.) Now, none of the medium-lived nuclides is likely to have been form- ed in high quantity at the beginning. They are all heavy nuclides which, in general — judging from the similar but stable nuclides that exist today — were formed in very small quantities. Before trying to set figures to the “small quantities,’’ let’s ask another question: When were the various nuclides created anyway? The most recent estimates I have seen place the initial explosion of the original cos- mos— of which the expanding uni- TllL VVlIBNABOUTa OF E ADIOAC'TI VIT 7 143

Page 145

verse is still the witness — at six bil- lion years in. the past. The initial explosion is supposed to have formed the atoms as we know them today. The atoms are, by that reckoning, one billion years older than the Solar System and that is a nice figure to accept. Now, then, the important heavy radioactive nuclides, uranium-235, uranium-238 and thorium- 252, today make up a total of only thirteen atoms out of every million in the Earth. (See Table 2.) If we count in the number that would have been present except for the breakdowns that went on during the six billion years since the atoms were formed, there would have been twenty-two of these out of every million. Let’s be generous now. Let’s sup- pose that each one of the medium- lived nuclides in Table 7 was origi- nally formed in a quantity equal to uranium-235, uranium-238 and tho- rium-232 combined. Let each of the six be common enough to form twenty-two for every million atoms. This is certainly being generous. But remember, the formation of the atoms took place six billion years ago; the formation of the Earth only five billion years ago. There is a one billion year gap during which these medium-lived nuclides had a chance to break down. For instance, half the plutonium-244 was gone seventy millions years after it was originally formed and nine hundred thirty million years before the Earth was formed. When two hundred million years had passed after the formation 144 of the atoms and eight hundred mil- lion years must yet elapse before Earth is formed, some eighty-five per cent of the plutonium-244 has al- ready gone. The situation is, of course, worse for the other still shorter-lived nuclides. We can calculate how much of each is left at the time of the forma- tion of the Earth, assuming a start- ing concentration of twenty-two in a million for each. It turns out that for plutonium-244, the amount left at the time of the formation of the Earth is only about one hundred atoms per ten billion, or only about two-fifths the quantity of the ura- nium-235 remnant present in the Earth today. The quantity of the otlier nuclides present in the Earth when formed is negligible. To be sure, the plutonium-244 breaks down at a rate considerably greater than the longer-lived nuclides; ten times as fast as uranium-235 and two hundred times as fast as thorium- 232, so its low concentration may not prevent it from making a contribu- tion to eirergy production that is not entirely negligible. We can allow for that, too. Pluto- nium-244 breaks down to thorium- 232, producing three helium-4 nuclei on the way. Once thorium-232 is produced, the rate of further energy production becomes very small. Going from plutonium-244 to thori- um-232, however, the energy produc- tion in ergs per second per thousand cubic yards of Earth is about nine hundred fifty. Even if you were to add a couple ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 146

of hundred ergs per second for the dregs of the other medium-lived nu- clides that might be about, it would still represent an insignificant quan- tity of the total radioactivity energy production on Earth at the time of its formation. And that is after having assumed a figure for the original quantity of these nuclides that is surely many times too high. So it’s obvious we can stick with the figures in Table 6 and not worry about other nuclides at all. But how significant is the radio- active energy production in Earth. In Table 5, the figure for such energy production in a thousand cubic yards of Earth — over forty-five hundred tons of material — is over two hun- dred twenty thousand ergs per sec- ond. An erg, however, is a very small unit of energy. It takes over forty- one billion ergs to make one kilo- calorie, and a kilocalorie isn’t a ter- ribly large unit of energy, either. For instance, it takes about thirty kilo- calories of energy to raise the tem- perature of an ounce of ice water to the boiling point. The burning of an ounce of gasoline will produce about three hundred kilocalories of energy. It takes an absolute minimum of seventeen hundred kilocalories to keep a human being going for one day. Well, then, the energy production of a thousand cubic yards of Earth, once you convert from ergs to kilo- calories, comes to about 0.0000051 kilocalories per second. It would take that thousand cubic yard section two years to produce the energy of a burning ounce of gasoline and about eleven years to produce the energy needed to keep you just barely going for one day. Not much, I admit, but then there is a great quantity of such thousand- cubic-yard sections in the Earth, one and one half billion billion, in fact. The total amount of energy pro- duced by radioactivity in the Earth amounts to seven and a half trillion kilocalories per second. To give an idea of how much this is, compare it with the energy re- ceived by the Earth from the Sun. It amounts, all told, to about forty trillion kilocalories per second, but of this some forty per cent is reflect- ed, leaving only some twenty-four trillion kilocalories per second to be absorbed. The solid surface of the Earth received, therefore, energy from the planetary interior that is almost one third as much as the energy it receives from the Sun. Furthermore, the Sun’s energy affects only atmosphere, oceans, and the outermost skin of the land sur- face. It is intermittent and what is received during the day is radiated away during the night. Earth’s inter- nal heat never lets up, but is pro- duced relentlessly day and night, and is distributed throughout the silicate crust of the Earth. Still worse, the Earth’s substance is a very poor con- ductor of heat. By measuring the rate at which temperature goes up as one burrows into the Earth, it has THE WHENABOUTS OF RADIOACTIVITY 145

Page 147

been calculated that Earth loses a little over three billionths of a kilo- calorie per second for each square centimeter of Earth’s surface. This is a most puzzling figure, be- cause it is admitted that the heat production through radioactivity in the surface skin alone of the Earth — say the outer ten to twenty miles . . . or about one per cent of the Earth — supplies almost enough heat to make up for this heat loss. The total heat loss of Earth, at three billionths of a kilocalorie per square centimeter per second comes out to only about sixteen billion kilo- calories per second. This is only one fifth of one per cent of the energy production by radioactivity. If the basic figures used in this article are correct, we have left, then, an ample supply of energy to account for volcanoes, for earthquakes, for mountain-building and ail the various geological processes that must con- sume enormous amounts of energy. The problem is not to find enough energy to explain geological phenom- ena. The problem is to find enough jjhenomena to consume the energy produced by Earth’s radioactivity. And when we think that radio- active energy production was five times as high when Earth was formed as it is now, there is no difficulty at all in visualizing the liquefaction of the planet after formation. If diffi- culty there be, it is in understanding why the silicate crust is solid now. Specific theories have been ad- vanced to account for changes in 146 Earth’s surface features as a result of the heat production resulting from radioactivity. For instance, it has been suggested that the sub-crustal regions of Earth — say twenty to forty miles down — are melting now as heat accumulates. When the melted area reaches within four miles or so of the ocean floor, enough heat will leak through the thin solid layer and into the ocean to balance the books so that further melting will cease. Meanwhile the continents, their stony foundations softened, will float westward — very slowly — on the liq- uid rock ocean as the result of tidal influences, so that the heat accumu- lated under them will also flow into the ocean. The heat lost will thus become greater than the heat being produced and a cooling-off period will start. The crust will thicken, the continents become fixed once more and heat will start accumulating again. Furthermore, during the hot period, the continents will sink — very slowly — into the softening rock, al- lowing the formation of warm shal- low seas as the ocean invades the land. A modified theory supposes the heat formation to be more uneven, concentrating — as seems logical — about regions which happen to be higher than average in radioactive isotopes. In this way, a "blister” will form under some section of a con- tinent. (The continents are higher in radioactive material than are the sea bottoms.) This blister, or elevated land area, will be eroded away and serve as the material out of which ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 148

mountain chains are formed. Further- more, this will also be a period of intense vulcanism in which most of the internal heat is carried away from Earth not simply by conduction to the ocean but by the actual spewing of molten rock to the surface, where heat may be lost directly and in quan- tity to the air. Again this results in a period of cooling. In either case, the heating/cooling is cyclic. As we go back into the past, the cycles must move constantly in the direction of heat as the amount of radioactive energy production in- creases. The hot periods must be in- creasingly violent, with a thinner solid crust, larger blisters, more and bigger volcanoes. Finally, some four billion years ago the hot period must have been hot enough to melt all of the Earth. There must have been an interme- diate period when a thin crust form- ed as radioactivity died off but didn't remain. A liquid surface can lose heat more quickly through convection — that is, by currents of liquid actively bringing heat from the interior to the surface — than a solid surface can lose it by conduction only. Once the thin crust formed, there- fore, heat would be trapped beneath it and it would gradually melt. The next time the crust would be formed, some of the radioactivity would have decayed away and the crust would be thicker and melt more slowly, and so on, until finally the solid crust would come for good. There are a lot of matters left hanging by these theories — or by any theories of mountain-building, vul- canism and Earth’s surface changes generally. For instance, do these cyclic heating/cooling periods have any connection with Earth’s cyclic glaciation/interglaciation periods ? Unfortunately, this can’t be helped. Working out geological theories is a losing game. Not enough is known about the details of Earth’s internal structure to give us enough basic knowledge to work with. What’s more we don’t — at the moment — ■ know of any method for Ending out these details. In fact, in many ways we know more about the internal structure of Betelguese and Vega than about the internal structure of the Earth. Aesop tells the story of Thales, the ancient Greek philosopher — and first man to predict an eclipse — who was so interested in studying the stars during an evening stroll, that he fell into a ditch. An old woman, passing by, mocked him by saying, "Here is a man who thinks he can learn about the stars when he doesn’t even know what’s going on under his feet.” Well, that’s exactly what modern science has managed to do. It has learned a great deal about the stars and remained largely ignorant as to what’s going on under our feet. THE END THE WHENABOUTS OF RADIOACTIVITY 147

Page 149

t THE REFERENCE IIBRARV BY P. SCHUYLER MILLER STRAWS IN A HOT WIND As this is written, the head-on conflict of two facts is filling the headlines, the TV screens, and the legislatures of the world: (1) Science can’t work without facts; (2) Politics can’t wait for facts. I doubt that any stable compromise will have been reached 148 by the time this appears, .although somebody may have been forced into doing something of permanent con- sequence. The results, whichever way the cow wanders, have almost cer- tainly been explored by science fic- tion. Not only did SF foresee the pos- sibilities and consequences of nuclear energy, it foresaw most of the stum- bling blocks, and Robert Heinlein’s "Solution Unsatisfactory,’’ back in 1941, was and is uncomfortably close ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 150

to reality. An atomic bomb, we knew, was really just another vastly more powerful bomb whose heat and blast effects would be supplemented by radiation. The lasting danger to indi- viduals and the race would come from what is now known as "fall- out”— Heinlein’s atomic dust. Out of the present controversy, one or two facts have emerged. We don’t really know how much fall- out there has been so far, from the American, British and Russian bomb tests since the war. We don’t know how much of it will affect human health and human heredity. We don’t know what a "safe" intake of radio- active matter is, or whether there is any such thing. The U.S.S.R., being the kind of place it is, probably doesn’t concern itself much with these matters. Under such a regime, to put it flatly, people are expendible: the government isn’t. But that is not at all the case in the Western segment of the world, and it’s not true in much of the Asiatic sector whose closest natural ties have been with Russia. Japan, in particu- lar, has been hit from all sides, and knows from Hiroshima and Nagasaki what radiation does to people. You won’t find all the facts, such as there are, in any one place. I set out to compile them for this column, and gave it up, but I’d recommend that you watch the weekly. Science, if your library has it. "Sleepers” — sober little papers that set down the grimmest of data without hullabaloo or drum-beating — have a way of appearing from time to time,' well THE REFERENCE LIBRARY ahead of the newspaper headlines. One book, however, will pretty well bring you up to date as of this spring. It is "Radiation: What It Is and How It Affects You,” by Drs. Jack Schubert and Ralph E. Lapp, men who know the atomic field from the inside, who are greatly concerned about the dangers that are piling up, and who spell those dangers out as they see them. The book is published by the "Viking Press for $3.95. As a sort of companion-piece, you can get from the magazine, Saturday Review — 25 West 45th Street, New York 36 — a reprint of a series of articles or statements originally appearing in its issues of May 18th and 25th. The first is an open letter from the great German humanist. Dr. Albert Schweitzer, written at the urging of SR’s editor, Norman Cousins, and urging a halt to bomb testing because of the hazards from fall-out radio- activity. This is accompanied by an answer from Dr. Willard F. Libby, spokesman for the Atomic Energy- Commission’s official viewpoint that we have reached only an insignificant fraction of the danger-level, with a countering comment by Dr. Harrison Brown of California Institute of Technology, and another by SR’s science editor, John Lear. Reprints are ten cents each, less in quantities. What we have, pretty evidently, is a conflict of purpose. One school is convinced, for good reasons that are no news to us since we’ve played all the changes on them, that bomb testing and bomb making must be stopped, before they lead to a final 149

Page 151

war which no society and few people will survive. The other, the AEC position, is that anything we may do to give Russia a lead -in atomic arma- ment may bring that war. Both are searching for facts to strengthen their respective stands — and they have to use the same facts. But in this concentration on their ultimate purpose of atomic disarma- ment for all nations, it seems to me that Messrs. Cousins, Schweitzer, et al are to their owm detriment brushing aside another set of facts that the Schubert-Lapp book, and articles now' appearing in Science and elsewhere, show cjuite clearly to be a past, present, and ever-growing hazard to us as indi\’iduals and to tlie race. They imply that by ending bomb tests and fall-out, we would end the radiation hazard — and this is just not so, as Lapp and Schubert show clearly. Exposure to X rays, in particular, has become so routine in our daily life that we take them as matter-of-factly as sunshine, without ever concerning ourselves over w'hether adequate precautions are taken to protect us as individuals from radiation damage, and particu- larly from mutations in the sex cells which will affect our children and grandchildren. Group A is propagandizing against bombs and bomb tests. Group B is propagandizing for bombs and bomb tests. Both are sincere; both have good reasons. But both are turning their backs on the seemingly greater dangers, brought out by the same sur- veys, in waste radiation from peace- 150 fill atomic reactors and from X rays. Judging from his earlier work on Carbon-14 dating. Dr. Libby is pre- cisely the mono-directional-minded type of scientist w'ho is an ideal choice for picking over the scant data available, to support the present national policy. When he was run- ning counts of charcoal samples for the world’s archeologists, he did not concern himself with anything but the counting. Whether the sample was a good one — whether it was chemically ready for counting — seem- ed irrelevant; his concern was with the counting apparatus. The rest was somebody else’s business — and this is the impression he gives now, in his answers to Schweitzer and others. Two factors may be worth point- ing out. Libby and the AEC seem to have made the assumption that — lacking the evidence that will show the true state of affairs — they will consider that fall-out is uniform the world over, outside the immediate area of a test. What data they — and we — do have is based on samples collected in some eighty-five stations, scattered around the world. But fall- out of Strontium 90 or any other bomb product is as much a function of the weather as is fall-out of water, and we all know of local irregular- ities so marked that there will be a downpour across the street while the sidewalks on our side are bone-dry. Irregularity, not regularity, is the preponderant feature of nature. Another type of irregularity is a vital factor that Libby et al are ignor- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 152

ing or talking around. This is the statistical irregularity in what we know about human sensitivity to ra- diation. It is a pure mathematical fact that if the data show that on the average people are safe until they get more than X roentgens of radia- tion, half the people counted are not safe at this level. Hence the empirical safety factors you'll see mentioned: engineers call them "bugger factors,” variable constants introduced to turn a wrong answer into the right one. Let’s use an old T’VA joke to state it a little more clearly; Canadians are telling it about Americans on the St. Lawrence seaway project, so it’s still valid. A T'VA engineer, it seems, was charged with designing bridges high enough so the river boats could get under. He made a survey, meas- ured the heights of the smokestacks on all the boats that would use the river, and built the bridges at the average height ... so that half the boats he had measured couldn’t get under at all. It looks as if the AEC is using the same kind of average safety figure in its arguing. By the same token, I’d be much happier with the statements of such men as Norman Cousins if he gave any indication that he understands the scientific data he uses to support his cause. In a couple of his state- ments he has used the rather archaic, nineteenth century statement that "highly poisonous radioactive stron- tium has an affinity for calcium,” seeming to believe that Strontium 90 is somehow mystically attracted to the calcium in our bones. Actually, the THE KEFERENCE LIBRARY point, is that strontium and calcium are so similar chemically that both are used by the body in the same way, to build bones and teeth, so that in the case of the "hot” element we get a built-in radioactive source. Meanwhile, there is an emotional reaction to the whole question for which we can take some responsibil- ity, with our stereotypes of "atomic men” whose glance is death, familiar in Hollywood and T’V science fiction and not unknown in the magazines. When employees of a Texas com- pany picked Up a small amount of radioactive dust, they found that their whole community shunned them with a kind of blind feeling that radio- activity is somehow contagious. I don’t know whether sound, solid, point-with-alarm books like Lapp’s and Schubert’s will straighten out this attitude or merely encourage it. I’d also like to recommend, more as an interim reference than as some- thing to read, Gerald Wendt’s "The Prospects of Nuclear Power and Technology” CVan Nostrand Co., Princeton, New York, Toronto and London; 348 pp.; $6.00). This is a matter-of-fact summing up of the status of peacetime atomic energy, as of the end of the Geneva Conference or shortly thereafter. As a reference, it is greatly handicapped by a very bad index; you almost have to read it through in order to know where to look for facts you want to use later. I hadn’t realized, for example, that at the end of 1955 the world had no fewer than one hundred fourteen nuclear reactors running or projected. 151

Page 153

Put this one beside the Smythe re- port, if you’re willing to dig for the information that is in it. And note well the comments on radio- active wastes from power reactors and such: with all the world’s atomic potential turned to peaceful power instead of bombs, the radiation haz- ard would still be serious and grow- ing more so daily. What data are to science, policy is to politics. In the present controversy, the indications are that policy is going to outweigh fact. We’re going to have to find out how to defend ourselves from our own defenses. 'iHi- Seedling Stars, by James Blish. Gnome Press, New York. 1957. 185 pp. $3.00 As one man’s answer to the book- club challenge — earlier this year A. E. van Vogt’s new "Empire of the Atom’’ was released by a cut- rate book club before Shasta’s "origi- nal’’ edition was published — Marty Greenberg has announced the Gnome Press "pick-a-book” scheme. You’d better write to him at 799 Broadway, New York 3, for details and lists, but in a nutshell you can get the reg- ular Gnome editions for only $1.33 apiece by ordering three at a time, $1.25 each in lots of six, and $1.20 each if you buy by the dozen assorted titles. (Fantasy Press, Box 187, Adamstown, Pa. — a new address, incidentally — also has a bargain offer: paperback dollar editions of some of their best books.) 152 The short stories and novelettes which James Blish has fitted together in "The Seedlin<i: Stars" have been picked up from four very different magazines. I don’t know whether he thought of them as a whole from the beginning, or whether the idea grew on him after the success of the best of the parts, "Surface Tension,’’ in Galaxy. At any rate, although there is a unified theme or gimmick, what you have in the book is a set of four discreet episodes with little or no real bearing on each other. The gimmick, as you probably know if you’ve read any of the parts, is that of "Adapted Men” — made-to- order men, laboratory — designed from the germ cells out to fit the unearthly conditions of unEarlhly worlds. If the Universe won’t lit Man, Man must fit the Universe. I have very strong reservations, in spite of being no biologist, as to whether the changes could be made as fast as we’re told they occur, but I’m quite happy about the basic idea. In the first section, based on "A Time to Surr'ive” from Fantasy and Science Fiction, we meet the Adajited Men holed up on the ice-world of Ganymede, fighting for their identity as a synthetic race, not quite androids and not quite human. Sweeney, planted among them, has the same liquid-ammonia blood, the same diet of rock dust — and, he realizes even- tually, the same hopes and visions of the more than human potentialities tliat "pantropism” has released in mankind. In the second section — from If — ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 154

which has the Lovecraftian title "The Thing in the Attic,’’ we meet an utterly different lot of Adapted Men, one of the many strewn among the star-worlds by the Seeding Program. These are monkeylike, adapted for life in the leafy "attic” of a planetary rain-forest and dreading the Hell of the forest floor to which noncon- formists are condemned. We follow one such lot, who have the courage of their nonconformity and discover something about their humanity. The third and most fascinating section is based on two stories, "Sunken Universe” from Super Sci- ence of 1942 and Galaxy’s "Surface Tension.” Here we have a race of microscopic, water- breathing men on a water-world of Tau Ceti. Taken by itself, it’s probably the best exploita- tion of the man-grown-tiny gimmick that as far as I know originated with O’Brien’s "Diamond Lens,” was taken over by Ray Cummings in his "Golden Atom” stories, and was turned into a good movie by Richard Matheson in his "Incredible Shrink- ing Man.” Frankly, I’d have been happier to see the people of Hydrot in a book of their own, instead of fitted into this book. Finally, in the last few pages — from If again — the author closes the orbit of the Adapted Men and brings them back to attempt the colonization of the dying Earth where they originated millennia before, and with the timeless stigma of "differentness” still haunting them. It’s good, original SF as you’d ex- pect, but this is one case where the THE REFERENCE LIBRARY whole is not greater than the sum of the parts. For the new Blish, whose novel is a novel, see the Bal- lantine "Frozen Year.” Star Born, by Andre Norton. World Publishing Co., Cleveland. 1956. 212 pp. $2.75 Good, fast-moving, colorful SF adventures are still being written these days, but they’re labeled juve- niles. The best of them are written by Robert A. Heinlein for Scribner’s, but Andre Norton’s editing and writing jobs for World are right up there in the pennant race, and she’s almost as good for Gnome as "An- drew North” (may I apologize again to her and many, many readers for confusing her with Eric North?). This is technically a sequel to "The Stars Are Ours!” but it takes place a century or so later, and its hero, Dal- gard Nordis, is about a fourfold- great-grandson of the Dard Nordis whose adventures, colonizing the planet Astra, we followed in the first book. By now the human pio- neers have "settled into the varnish” — as was once said of the books that lay untouched on the parlor table, disturbed only for weddings and funerals. They have developed their own culture in friendly partnership with the furred amphibians of the undersea villages, who accompany them on quests, hunt dragons with them, and are linked with many of the younger generation telepathically. They know nothing at all about 153

Page 155

Those Others, the eity-building for- mer rulers of Astra who are said still to survive on the other side of the world. Dalgard Nordis, bound on a quest witli his blood-brother Ssuri of the mermen, runs into evidence that the ogre-race is on the move again, every bit as ruthless and savage as in the legends. And then explorers from Earth, knowing nothing of the for- mer refugee colony, join forces with the race that is obviously the domi- nant one on the new world — Those Others. Miss Norton misses few of the possibilities of the situation, if any. It’s a good yarn, of the kind that ought to win friends and influ- ence future readers. Coming Attractions, edited by Martin Greenberg. Gnome Press, New York. 1957. 254 pp. $3.50 Here’s a book that deserves a spe- cial Hugo from the next World Sci- ence Fiction Convention, and maybe special mention from tire Interna- tional Fantasy Award committee, if it is still functioning. It is no news to readers of this magazine that some of the most original and thought-provoking sci- entific articles now being published appear in the science-fiction maga- zines. John Campbell set the pace here, of course, but just about all of the best-edited magazines have an occasional article and Willy Ley’s department in Galaxy provides as good a series as you’ll find. What’s more, the fanzines have produced their share, though they’re done more in the bibliographical and critical fields than for science. Marty Greenberg, who by this time should have no trouble defending his title as the science-fiction pub- lisher with the best all-around books, has taken a brand-new approach in his latest "theme” anthology. It’s a collection of serious articles from the SF magazines, and it’s one you should recommend to your local public li- brary. Seven of the eleven articles, incidentally, came from this maga- zine. The first three articles deal with the language problem; how do you communicate with the "people” you meet on a jaunt in space and/or time? Willy Ley’s "A Letter to the Martians” — in Thrilling Wonder, 1940, as "Calling All Martians” — describes the numerous proposals which have been made for communi- cating with the supposed people of Mars with huge geometric tliagrams, patterns of lights, or what have you. Charles F. Flockett continues in "How to Learn Martian” — from ASF — by explaining what is involved in learning a completely strange lan- guage, and Sprague de Camp pro- vides a transition into the next sec- tion with his classic "Language for Time Travelers” — here in 1938 — which points out how greatly our own English language has changed in a few centuries. (Incidentally, there’s a brand-new science — "glot- tochronology” — which uses the di- vergences in related languages to 154 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 156

estimate how long it’s been since Italian became distinct from Latin, the present Indo-European languages from Sanskrit, or Hebrew from Akkadian.) dlie second block of three articles, including Sprague’s, is concerned with time traveling. After the lan- guage problem, we have Willy Ley again with "Geography for Time Travelers’’ — here in 1939 — which shows how the map of the Earth has changed from era to era through geological time. And C. M. Korn- bluth — no source or date credited — offers a delightful little commentary on "Time Travel and the Law,” con- sisting of several good reasons for staying away from Regency London if you want to keep out of gaol. I’he third section of the book takes us into space with another classic from these pages — 1943 — R. S. Richardson’s "Space Fix.” This spells out the principles of finding your way from planet to planet, and casts some novel light on the energy prob- lems which bring Pluto "nearer” than Mercury and make Jupiter al- most seven times as "far” as Mars or Venus. Then comes a duel be- tween Willy Ley, with "Space War” — here in 1939 — and Malcolm Jameson with "Space War Tactics” — here a few months later. Finally Jack Hatcher, in "Fuel for the Future,” here in 1940, thoroughly demolishes the food-pill gimmick by showing what space travelers will really need to keep alive on their way to Mars or (he third planet of Spludge. F'rcderik Pohl has the newest arti- TIIB REFERENCE LIBRARY cle in the book, unless Korribluth’s was written for the occasion: his "How to Count on Your Fingers,” which makes the intricacies of binary computation fascinating sim- ple— I guess — was published last year in one of Robert Lowndes' mag- azines. And Donald F. Reines copes with "Interplanetary Copyright” in a headache-provoking little discus- sion from, as I recall, an "outside” source such as Saturday Rei'iew or Publishers’ Weekly. You’ll think of all kinds of arti- cles that should be in this anthology. I hope it sells well enough so that Marty can publish another some time. Because this, you can be sure, won’t be a paperback. Fire, Burn, by John Dickson Carr. Harper & Brothers, New York. " 1957. 265 pp. $3.50 Only by courtesy is this a time- travel novel in the present-day sense, although the way in which Detective- Superintendent John Cheviot steps out of a cab in front of Scotland Yard and stumbles into the body of an ancestor in 1829, when the Yard was just a dream, is really no more offhand than the techniques in Mark T-wain’s "Connecticut Yankee,” or Sprague de Camp’s "Lest Darkness Fall.” The purpose of this kind of time- travel yarn, as distinct from those concerned with the paradoxes and gimmicks of the idea itself, is to show some period in the past or future 155

Page 157

through present-day eyes. Thus John Cheviot, continually stumbling over customs and relationships that he doesn’t know about, must solve an "impossible” murder before a dead- line. It may be heresy from a Carr fan, but it seems to me he’s become so entranced with his picture of the times that his mystery is no mystery, being solvable by selecting the only possible criminal, in a way that used not to be possible with Carr. This is the third time the author has used this gimmick. I wish he'd forget his twentieth century observer, and play it straight. The Case Against Tomorrow, by Fxederik Pohl. Ballantine Books, New York. No. 206. 1957. 152 pp. 35«; You get here six short stories and novelettes, including one fantasy, ranging from extremely good to not- so-much. Three are from Galaxy and one each come from Fantasy & Science Fiction ^ Fantastic Universe and Science Fiction. The oldest is dated 1954, and three were out last year. The opener, "The Midas Plague,” employs the talent for extrapolating twisted futures that the author show- ed in his collaborations with C. M. Kornbluth, "The Space Merchants” and "Gladiator-at-Law.” So does the even better closer, "My Lady Green Sleeves.” In the first, we have the tribulations of a young man in a world devoted to mandatory over- consumption, as he treads a precari- ous way toward social advancement with disgrace and ruin looking over his shoulders. In the second, we have a prison riot in a .society where stra- tification has followed the lines of occupational specialization, with "greasers,” "wipers,” and "figger- loving” clerks near the bottom of the heap and most crimes those against status and stability. These Pohl does very well indeed: they’re worth the price of the book. The fantasy, "The Census Takers,” is a satire of bureaucracy forced to account for one apparently supernatu- ral creature. In "The Candle Light- er,” do-gooders and bureaucracy get a drubbing as culture very nearly strips the gears of culture on Mars. "The Celebrated No-1 lit Inning” suggests a future for baseball, and "Wapshot’s Demon" is just another switch on the man-who-foretclls-the- future. 153 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 158

YOURS-FOR HALF PRICE! THE CREAM OF 1957 SCIENCE FICTION BOOKS IN REGULAR HARD-COVER FIRST EDITIONS FOR Now you have the opportunity of a lifetime to build your own library of the best science fiction being published today! No “reprint editions” ... no “remainders” . . . nothing to join! By special arrangement with the biggest regular publisher of science fiction titles in the country, we now offer you . . . for a limited time only ...FIRST CHOICE of BRAND NEW, CURRENT BOOKS ... at HALF THE REGULAR PRICE. Including: EARTHMAN’S BURDEN by Anderson and Dickson. Illustrated by CARTIER — the famous and fantastically funny “Hoka” stories now available for the first time in hard-covers. Reg. $3.00 YOU PAY $1.50 UNDERSEA CITY by Pohl and Wil- liamson— two of the greatest names in the field combine their talents to con- tinue their series of adventures in a w’eird world. Reg. $2.75 YOU PAY $1,50 THE RETURN OF CONAN bi/ DeCawjj and Nyberg — latest and greatest in the popular series of swashbuckling ad- ventures featuring the heroic rogue. Reg. $3.00 YOU PAY $1.50 THE SHROUDED PLANET by Robert Randall — a hard-cover “first” from a fast-rising new name in science fiction. THE SURVIVORS by Tom Godwin^ Specially expanded and rewritten ver- sion of one of this year’s most popular magazine novels by a talked-about new sf star. Reg. $3.00 YOU PAY $1.50 THEY’D RATHER BE RIGHT — by Clifton and Riley — At last, the famous “Hugo”-winning prize novel, in book form ! Reg. $3.00 YOU PAY $1.50 Reg. $3.00 YOU PAY $1.50 ORDER TODAY! Quantities are limited, so don’t delay ! Use the convenient order-blank below, or a facsimile. "PICK-A-BOOK" • DEPT. A. P. O. BOX 63. HICKSVILLE, N. Y. Gentlemen: Please send me the following titles, at $1.50 each, 3 for $4.00, 6 for $7.50. Earthman’s Burden The Return of Conan - The Shrouded Planet Undersea City , The Survivors They’d Rather Be Right I enclose $ for books checked. (Plus 15^5 postage per book if outside the U. S.) Name— , . - ... , , — Address— — □ Check this box if you want free catalog listing dozens of other titles at these bargain prices or even greater savings. 157

Page 159

IN TIMES TO COME The next — January — issue comes out at Christmas season, and Kelly Freas has done us a Christmas cover. Kelly was in the Army Air Corps during the war; from some of the paintings he’s done, one would gather he encoun- tered a number of sergeants that more than matched the traditional specifica- tions. . . . The lead novelette will be "Unwillingly to School,” by Pauline Ashwell. She is genuinely, no-kidding, a new author, not an old one in a new disguise. There has never been a science-fiction story like this before; I am hopefully praying, however, that Miss Ashwell can repeat, and extend the adventures of Lizzie Lee, who must be read to be believed. Lizzie is a teen- age girl that I am extremely glad I never met, and delighted to have read about; she’s a menace, and in the course of "Unwillingly to School” she breaks every rule of English grammar, punctuation, and composition I ever heard about, and I think invents a few in order to rebel against them, too. Lizzie is tliis year’s Christmas present to the readers, from Astounding Science Fiction. The Editor. THE ANALYTICAL LABORATORY The reader vote fell off a bit in numbers on the August issue. Hot weather, activity in other directions than taking time out to send in a note, may have had something to do with it; on the other hand, our turnabout analytical move — the reader questionnaire, wherein we find out what you are, rather than what you think of the stories — which appeared in the June issue may have sort of exhausted the readership’s tendency to write in. The questionnaire is still in process of being tabulated; as soon as I have the results of that. I’ll publish a complete breakdown on it. I want to thank you for your help, even if the Research Department, currently wading through the problem of tabulating several thousand slips, letters, cards, and other copies and/or substitutes for clipping out the coupon we published, feels you positively overdid the response. However, results on the voting on August are as follows: PLACE STORY AUTHOR POINTS 1. Med Service Murray Leinster 1.77 2. The Stainless Steel Rat , Harry Harrison 2.18 3. Brake Poul Anderson 2.68 4. Beast of Prey Jay Williams 3.72- 5. Love Story Eric Frank Russell 4.63 The Editor. 158 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 160

(Continued from page 7) nesses; they didn’t have any theory of how such a thing could happen. It just did. The amateurs who first used the phenomenon didn’t have the back- ground in cosmology, astrophysics, meteorology, physics of the gaseous state, and a few other needed dis- ciplines, to explain what happened. But they were believed by the pro- fessionals sufficiently to have profes- sional scientists start looking into the phenomenon — and answers began to emerge. It’s called ”sporadic-E skip” now — and brother, it’s really spo- radic, too ! Anyone wanting a dem- onstration of the phenomenon had best get his own ham station, spend lots of time listening, and wait pa- tiently till God, in His own good time, causes it to happen. The right part of the sunspot cycle helps, too, so you might have to wait half a dozen years. The essential difficulty is this: a demonstration must be believable. And "belief” is a subjective phenom- enon, tied to orientation, opinion, previous experiences, and what-not. ("Orientation” is the term for what lae have; "superstition” is the equiv- alent term for what they have.) The term "impossible” is one that is normally defined strictly by nega- tion of "possible” — which is defined largely in terms of negation of "im- possible.” I propose that "impossi- ble” refers to a relationship between a specific action or process, and a specified — or implied — method of BRAINIAC A Better Brain Construction Kit! Includes Complete Geniae & Tyniac Kits.. .Plus 56 AM-New BRAINIACS! Build your own tiny Genius Computers Scientific— Instructive— Entertaining —Safe p]asy-to-nse ro-usable Rolderless parts — with complete plans for ‘‘make-it- yoiirself” Jtrainiacs WHAT IS BRAINIAC? The complete kit you need to build your own tiny Electric Brain Computers. This is the only kit which in- cludes plans and parts for all 33 Geniacs and 13 Tyniacs phis 56 brand new Brainiacs. With Brainiac, you can build over 100 small electric brain machines and toys which can think or display intelligent behavior ... in- cluding several semi-automatic computers. Each one works on 1 flashlight battery . . . is Fun to make, Fun to use and play with . . . and Teaches you something new about electrical computing and reasoning circuits. Originated and produced exclusively by Berkeley Enterprises, Brainiac is the result of 7 years’ development w’ork with minia- ture brains, including Geniac, Tyniac, Tit- Tat-Toe Machine pictured in LU’E Maga- zine, Simon, Squee, etc. WHAT CAN YOU MAKE WITH BRAINIAC? Logic Machines: Intelligence Test, Syllogism Pi-over, Boolean Algebra Circuits . . . Game-Play' ing Machines: Tit-Tat-Toe, Nim, Black Match . . . Computers: To add, subtract, multiply or divide, using decimal or binary numbers . . . Cryptographic Machines: Coders, Decoders. Lock with over 15 million combinations . . . Puzzle-Solving Machines: Over 2 0 intriguing puzzles — with fasoiimting vari- ations. WHAT COMES WITH YOUR BRAINIAC? Brand new 100-page Brainiac Manual by E. C. lierkeley on the how-wliat-why of electric brains — showing how to make over 100 machines. • Intro- duction to Boolean Algebra for designing circuits. • Dozens of new wiring diagrams in exact torn- plate form to help beginners. • Design for new flip-top stand for easy assembly, attractive display. • Every part needed to build Geniacs. Tyniacs, Brainiacs — over 400 parts including control panel, bwltcli discs, jumpers, improved wipers, bulbs, sockets, washers, wire, battery, tools, . , everything you need. HOW CAN YOU ORDER YOUR BRAINIAC? Simply send check or money order for $17.95 to Dept. Alll for each Brainiac Kit you want. For shipment West of Miss., please add 80^‘: outside V. S. add $1.80. Buy Brainiac ... on our 7-Day Ii'ull Kefund Guarantee if not satisfied. MAIL THIS COUPON -——"I I Berkeley Enterprises, Inc.. Dept, AMI J ■ 815 Washington St., Newtonville 60. Mass. I I I WANT TO BUY BRAINIAG, THE BETTl'JR J ! BRAIN KIT on yoiir MONEY-BACK GUARAN- I I TEE OFFER. Please send me Brainiac I I Kit(s). I enclose $ in full payment. | I My name and address are attached ■ DEMONSTRATION 159

Page 161

achievement, and that it has no mean- ing outside of that relationship . It is impossible to trisect any given angle ... by the methods of Greek geometry. That is a provable fact, and it will forever be impossible. It is impossible to transmute the elements ... by any chemical process. And it will forever be impossible — by definition of “chemical process.” You may refine uranium chemically, refine graphite chemically, and set up a reactor employing chemicals . . . but the transmutation of elements that results isn’t a chemical process; it’s nuclear. It has been proven that a bumble- bee can’t fly; it’s aerodynamically impossible. It is, was, and always will be, and the proof is perfectly valid . . . in terms of static- winged flight! Lock the blades of a helicopter so they can’t turn, and it can’t fly either; it would drop like a stone. A piece of metal which is non- magnetic cannot distinguish one di- rection from another . . . unless it’s rotating rapidly. 'The properties of a dynamic system cannot be defined in terms of a static system. Now at any time in the develop- ment of knowledge, there are two levels of research and discovery pos- sible; the intensive and the extensive. Discovery can always be made on the basis of a more detailed examination of the already known; logical deduc- tion is of that order. Given a system of postulates and their generated conclusions, an infinite structure of deductions is possible. ’The number of propositions possible in plane 160 geometry alone, for instance, is essen- tially infinite, using the old Euclidean postulates. Deductive exploration and research is an unlimited field — but not all the field of possibility. No possible extension of plane geometry can discuss the characteristics of a sphere. The extensive research must be nondeductive; it adds new levels, new dimensions to be researched. Where deductive research involves intensive development of the known^ the in- tuitive, inductive, or whatever you wish to call it, research involves ex- tensive development into the un- known. Of the two types, intensive re- search is by far the easiest; when yoLi have achieved a result, you can com- municate it readily and clearly, be- cause it lies within the already-known co-ordinates of the field. Your dis- covery is an hitherto unrealized im- plication of the known processes. You haven’t discovered a phenome- non dependent on new laxvs, but on new applications of old laws; it is, in consequence, quickly and clearly communicable in standard terminol- ogy- However, when you discover a phenomenon based on no known law, you’re in for a tough fight. If the phenomenon is as defined — a valid phenomenon which is based on no known law, but on some still- undiscovered law — it will ordinarily yield two general sets of physical action-results. One group will be actions which are duplicable by known processes, and a second group ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 162

Never, Ever Before, Anywhere!! 7000 fantasy and science-fiction books and back-issue mags at 50% to 90% under what they’ve ever cost yOu before, here or anywhere, while they last! List free. WERiWOLF BOOKSHOP 7055A Shanrion Read, Verona, Pennsylvania will involve actions that cannot be duplicated by any known process. For example, uranium fission pro- (.luces heat, which is a well, and long- known phenomenon, duplicable by long-known processes, and, in addi- tion, produces nuclear phenomena wliich are not duplicable by any long- known process. (Transmutation of elements, for example.) The second group of phenomena will, inevitably, be "impossible.” They are actions which cannot be prorluced by any hitherto-known method; since "impossible” describes a relationship between a specific ac- lion and a specific method, the sec- ond group of phenomena are by delinitioir impossible. The essence of a crucial experiment is that an action is produced which is impossible by known methods. Thus the proof of discovery that a new law exists is to produce an im- possible result. Notice carefully, however, that jiroof that a new law exists is not the same as proving a new law. The old alchemists had theories about "ele- ments,” earth, air, fire, and water; their experiments proved that laws of chemistry existed — but they definitely hadn’t discovered what the laws were. The characteristic of a major break-through in human knowledge can be expected to present the fol- lov/ing picture, then; 1. Someone demonstrates an ac- tion which is impossible. Asso- ciated with it will be a number of not-impossible actions, which can be reproduced by ordinary methods. These will serve to confuse the issue. 2. The demonstration of the phe- nomena will be highly erratic, and unreliable. 3. The probability is about 0.99 that the discoverer presents an "explanation” that is a wild guess, and a poor one at that. 4. The probability is about 0.9 that the discoverer will be an amateur who stumbled on it by accident. Professionals don’t have accidents very often; they know their business too well; when they do have accidents, they take pains to eliminate the wild variable, so that they can DEMONSTRATION 161

Page 163

get on with their business. Amateurs, having no business to get 'on with, will start play- ing with the wild variable. 5. The first communication of the phenomenon, then, will be from an unknown amateur, who doesn’t know how to pre- sent his ideas in formal clarity, and probably has the wrong idea anyway. The probability of the early dem- onstrations being erratic, unreliable, and unconvincing stems from the simple proposition that if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re apt to do it wrong. The first stages of the study of a truly new phenomenon ordinarily involve wild misconcep- tions as to v/hat the cause-effect rela- tionship in the new area "should be.” When the first work with batteries was done, there was great mystifica- tion that two quite small copper-zinc cells connected together could break down water electrolytically, while a huge cell, with copper and zinc plates a yard square, couldn’t ... yet the big cell could heit an iron wire red hot, while the two little ones couldn’t. Concepts of volts and am- peres and the difference between them were still years in the future then. It made the behavior of electric- ity seem most weirdly arbitrary and improbable. It was so obviously irra- tional that two little cells could do what a big one couldn’t. A barometer is a right handy in- strument these days . . . but when the first mercury columns supported 1G2 by air pressure were set up, it must have been slightly bewildering. One man’s report on the height of the column must have seemed an unre- peatable experiment to other men; imagine the argument a Tibetan monk, a Swiss scientist, and an Eng- lishman might have gotten into ! (That, of course, has a hidden as- sumption contrary to fact — that all three workers had a common and reliable unit of length.) You can have fun, too, trying to define the meaning of the term "obvious,” as in the phrase, "From this it is obvious that . . .” "Obvious” usually turns out to mean "I can see a connection, and it is my opinion that anyone of reason- able intelligence will see the same connection.” Any man who has sought to get his wife to explain the "obvious” connection she sees, or sought to explain something perfect- ly obvious to her, is aware that where there are different methods of think- ing-approach to a problem, "obvious” doesn’t apply. One just wishes to God it did. The final difficulty in "demonstra- tion” is more fafniliar. Most "dis- coveries” are mistaken. The statistical evaluation of this problem has never been undertaken, so far as I know, but I imagine that it wouhl run some- thing like 10'^2 false "discoveries” for each real one. It’s not too unlike the problem of mutations; practically all mutations are mistakes — it’s the ac- cumulation of the ones that aren’t mistakes, however, that produces evolution. The Editor ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION

Page 164

— continued from Back Cover of These Great Books Values Up to $12,65 in Publishers' Editions! Each Book Packed from Cover to Cover with thrills of Top-Flight Science-Fiction . . . and Science FACT! THE ASTOUNDING SCIENCE- FICTION ANTHOLOGY. A story ;il>out lilt* lirst A-Bomb . . . writ- tfii lu-foj'f it wa.s invented ! Plus a s ' • ) ' vm 1 hough lbo,\- fo'.i ;i;'’.;iii. ;i::i.,in ami up in l)1lbli:,liri s’ rilil ioli . ! N’oll ( a Ko ON I A' 1 III isr I Km yon iv;iMy Wiint as few ti:, I II \ I'lll . SEND NO MONEY 'I’alse yotir rhoin of ANN ol tin' nat I may decide «heiher or not I wish to receive llie coming .select itni des, lUf) Kond St.. Toronto OIKer gfUKl in F. S. & Canada only. REPORT ON UNIDENTIFIED FLY- ING OBJECTS hif Fdirard J. Kup- )>elt. At last ! The first authorita- tive report on hitheu-to hushed-up facts about ‘‘flying saucers” . . . by a former Air Force exi>ert in charge of their investigation. NOT fiction, hut amax-ing fact! (Pub. ed. $4.95) OMNIBUS OF SCIENCE-FICTION. 415 classic stories b.v top authors. Wonders of Eaiih and Man. Ama'/iing Inventions. Space Travel and Visitors from Outer Space. Adventures in Dimension. Worlds of Tomornnv. (Pub. ed. $5.50) BEST SCIENCE-FICTION STORIES AND NOVELS; 1950. Kd.hu T. E. [>ilctu- 14 top-notch short stories and novelettes by such well-known wiiters as Robeid Bloch, Frank Robinson, Mark Cliflon, many other.s. (Pub. ed. $5.95) DRAGON IN THE SEA hij Frank fierhert. You’j t* on a 21st-century undersea mission fi’om which no human has ever returneil. Now. 8000 feet down, o-a unknotrn creirnia)i iranta i/ou DE.XD! (Pub. ed. $2.95) SATELLITE! hu Krlk 1-tergau.^l & William HeUer. Toj) experts re- veal full FACTS on the lirst man- made Satellite— -information not even availabh* in technical jour- nals! (Pub. ed. $3.95) THE END OF ETERNITY by Inaac Asimov. You look like other men, but you'l l- an Eternal- sent fi'om a timi.-less realm to change his- tory. But you decided lo travel through time and space to find forbidden love. (Pub. ed. $2.95)

Page 165

jffcTlOM Uo(0 S8.85 ■^9JV:%l'ti'( y- ,.riv