Planet Stories v06n11 (1955 Summer)

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lovelet by LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G A Kml Ik Kitcr ifv k BUCKHT STRANGE ADVENTURES ON.OTHER WOR1.DS— ’‘SlUMMER A.N.C. I Anderson

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VOL. 6, No. n • A HCTION HOUSE MAGAZINE • SUMMER, 1955 VOL. 6, No. n • A HCTtON HOUSE MAGAZINE • SUMMER, 1955 !!► Two Novels of Distant Worlds OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! Foul vtnrferson 4 Behind a pale Venusian mask lay hidden the arch-humanist, the anti-tech killer . . . one of those who needlessly had strewn Malone blood across the heavens from Saturn to the sun. Now — on the naked rock of the Trojan asteroids— the rendezvous for death was plainly marked. LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G Leigh Braefieff 59 Out there in the green star system, for beyond the confining grip of Federo- tion, moved the feared Bitter Star, for a thousand frigid years the dork and sinister manipulator of war-weory planets. !!^ Five Star-flung Short Stories ONCE A STARMAN Joe L. Hensley 23 The snares of space were Incalculable, Lou Argonne learned. Lightning "^speeds, immense distances, stygian blackness, rushing stars, flaming meteors ... all piled up inexorably to impale frail Earthman on the spears of vivid imagination. IMAGE OF SPLENDOR Lu Keffa 29 Cold? Frigid? Why those ruling Earthwomen coud put frost on a hydrogen burner, mused the frustrated O'Rielly as he gaily plotted to smash once and for all time the ingenious Venus dameblock. THE BRIDES OF OOL M. A. Cummfngs 38 Ool was the saddest lover this side of lo . . . either that, or the most skillful killer since the invention of Gilk’s death-ray. * DUST UNTO DUST Lyman D. Hrnckfey 44 It was alien, but was it dead, this sinister metal city that glittered so malig- nantly before the advance of the three awed space-scouters. ALIEN EQUIVALENT Rrchord R. Smifft 53 The Martians were a weak, sensitive, dying race,- frail and impotent before the superiority of the master Earthmen. Only in that grand and devilishly clever game of Duchal might sons of the red planet emerge from their shells. THE VIZIGRAPH 2. 91 Rumbling columns roll ever onward. Cover lllustrntion by Kelly Freas T. T. SCOTT, President JACK O'SUUIVAN, Editor MAICOIM REISS, Mqt. Ed/for i’LANKT 8TOK1108 * Published eiiRitei'ly i>y Love Ronmnoes PubUshlnir Co., Inc., Boromcr Biroet, Btamford, Conn. The entire contents of this magaaine are copyrighted, 1955. by Love Romances ruliliehing Co.. Inc. Reentered second-cIaMs mnttor Septem>>er SO, lO-Vi, nt the Po( OHicc at Btainford, Conn. Additional entry at New York. N. Y.. under the Art of March 3. 1K70. All rights reserved. I*rice 25v‘ per copy. Onc-yeac subscription: $1.00: addttlonai postage for Canada 15^: foreign countries 30^. Jb'or advertising rates address: Advertising Director, Fiction House, luc., 1G58 Summer Street, Stamford, Coun. prirtisd in v. •• A*

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It might be veil to poiot oot to the winners of illustrations that in order to receive the pic* desired your letters should reach tlie olSces of PLANET as soon as possible after each issue hits tlie newsstands. As it is now, the letters of winners No. 1 and 2 may arrive weeks or even months after No. 3's. Thus No. 3 becomes tiie initial selector, and more often than not lus or her first choice might well be the very same illustration chosen at a much later date by No. 1. And since No. 3 already has the pic safely tucked under his arm, tardy No. 1 misses out on his first selection. May this explanation assuage those winners who may be con- founded in receiving a pic other than their prime choices. And not to get too far a^vay from the subject of pic winners, liercwith the selections from the Spring issue: 1) A. J. Itudjysj 2) Bi>b Ho$kin>; 3) Michael W. Elm. A MESSAGE AND A CAUSE 1148 West fith Street Ashtabula, Ohio Dear Editor, Thanks for printing my letter in VIZI. If it sers'cs no other lofty purpose it should at least get me a few tltousand nasty letters from freas fans. I will try not to be stingingly vindictive in this letter since you claim that VJZI readers don't enjoy such like missives. Anyw.iy, now tliat I'm a mature, sophi.sticatcd sub-neo-fan (luving worked my way up from the fringe-fan classification) I have to write correspondingly mature letters. In the letter that follows I should reach the emotional depths of a six-yc-ar-old (which is pretty good since I have tlie I.Q. of a threc-year-old). Here goes . . . Top stories were THE BEAST-JEWEL OF hlARS and CAGE OF A THOUSAND WINGS. Both created the kind of dream- reality that in my opinion makes the best s-f stories. I couldn't figure out the connection between the titles and the stories, though. Are you sure you didn't get your titles crossed.^ I can see some basis for that labored title on CAGE etc., but as for the otlier . , . what the H is a beast-jewel? CAGE sounds a lot like the kick-off story for a string of sequels. If that’s what you intended, Mr. Budrys, take the ad%-ke of tliis noted sub-neo and DON’T. Series never work out too well, you know. Law of Diminishing Returns they calls it. Vouf oUicr stories just didn't jelL THE SPACE BET^'EEN did evoke a few chuckles, though . . . and the iilo a few other emotions. The illos were as sloppily drawn as ever and die reproduction was as poor as possible. Only Eberlc's lusty lass and Emsh’s illo on THE BEAST-JEWEL OF MARS came through welL Now that I've covered the (ugh!) stories and the (ugh!) illo*, I will turn to VIZI and refute all die argument* o* the fea —

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THE VIZIGRAPH including in my constructive criticism not only the BNF »nd neos, but also the little-olddadies who write in to say bow many thrills PLANET gives them in their advanced senility. The big mixup: You're forgiven, Jack. It wouldn't be PLANET without the bungling. . . . You know, PS is cither the worst proalne or the best fanzine in s*f. . . . You can confuse all great names except Mine. lUNING: Mu.st you throw in personal messages to your enemies in p.s.’s to your letters? . . . Who are 1) Ruch, 2) T. S. Eliot . . . ? COURTOIS: Are you kidding? Who gave you such a brainwashing? Or did 'Tnc/' take you over and give you a new personality? ... If you're really serious, congrats on having a lot more guts than I’d ever have in such a position. BRANDT: 1 guess you're assured of getting your letters in print by means of that sort of flattery (even eddytors like egoboo) but isn't "leader of s-f' going a little too far ... or don't you read any of the other mags? WALKER: Brackett and PLANET hav$ grown synonomous. SCOTT: Yea, Eberle often seems to be illustrating the wrong story. He turns out some fairly good illos, thougl] . . . even if they are inept. . . . Oh, I don't know if fen write letters for PUN. I write because / lutve a Message and a Cause . . to convert the world to Paananenism. . . . DE GRUNSWALD: I agree 100% ... and gripe letters make much better reading than the "PLmANET is the best s-f mag" letters. HOSKINS: Maybe some $-f fans take up a lot of room to say nothing but I have a Message and a Cause. MARMOR: You hart to comment on PLANETS art-work: you can"t talk about her stories without being stingingly vindictive. ELM: I think all space-opera fans should be ban- ished to AMAZING. I, for one, hope that Cap Future remains buried. Some stories are too technical, though . . . especially those in one magazine, ASTOUNDING. BUSBY: I preferred the GEISHA MEhfORY title (myself). I guess I'm a pre-pro (myself). If the stories gel any worse I'll have to start writing them (myself) and give the held a shot in die arm. One thing worries me, though. How will I ever be able to sell a story with all the eddytors mad becuz of the letters I wrote to them as a neo? l^^ELS & BUTCHER: Oh, yeah well prove it! (That last bit doesn't refer to anything special. It's just a good way to start an argument.) KEOGH: Oh. PAANANEN: Keenly perceptive and well-thought- out letter. PLETEROSKY: Sciwice-fiction is not here to stay. The building of the first space ship will kill s-f. The s-f fans will turn to science news mags (like the &ieoce Newsletter). When the reports of die flrst explorations of other worlds begin appearing, no one will need the fictionalized accounts. There will always be imaginative literature of some kind, of course, but not of the "pure" s-f variety. You may think that s-f will turn to interstellar s-f when we begin exploring our solar system, but the zincs will lose their audience because when people realize that interplanetary flight is a reality and that intor- atellar flight is next, dieir interest will be drawn to the sacnce that would be making these things possible . . . not to the fiction diat speculates about these things. As you have probably guessed, this letter is from 3 that master of the inept remark, who now signs as Stingingly vindictive, Victor Paananbn UNDERGROUND PULPS 33a North Street St. Leonards-on-Sca Sussex, England Dear Sir, I have just received the Fall '34 issue of PLANET STORIES. (Sent me by Carol McKinney.) I don't usually write letters to science-fiction maga- zines, but 1 just had to congratulate you on the cover by Kelly Freas, it was superb, and every bit as good as the one on the May issue. At the moment 1 am torn between cutting the cover off and fram- ing it ox leaving it on and keeping die magazine intact. I have a good suggestion as to how this could be made possible. How about a plain front cover, say with )ust the d.ate and some of the contents on it, and loose (or fixed) inside you could have tlic colored plate. It wouldn’t even matter if you had advertisements on the back of it, (as you uo now) but we could frame it then without fear of mutilating the magazine. Boy! What crazy dreams I do have. I see quite a few letters in VIZI stating that the writers have trouble with their husbands and friends who think they are "nuts” because they read sf. It has been my experience that people think I read it, and I quote—’oecause of the sexy bits" — unquote. I think this is one of the main reasons why certain people look down on science-fiction, especially when the magazine concerned has a cover like your Fall issue, (don’t think I'm griping, 'cause I’m not, I liked it) but it docs tend to give the impression that the contents might be a Ettle^ahhb — spicy, don't you think? So you see, a plain cover with the colored plate inside the magazine would serve two purposes, one, we could frame the picture without cutting the magazine, and two, people would no longer sneer at us for reading something tliat to them would appear to be "dirty" literature. Well, i would just like to say that I have never seen PLANET looking so good. All Uie very best, Michael R. Birrell TUNING OUT TUNING 411 Mayfair Ave, Ottawa, Ont., Canada Dear Jack, 1 had quietly decided several months ago to aban- don the somewhat enervating pastime of writing letters to magazines; I had settled into that happy, near-witless state of vegetation which is possible only when one docs not give a damn for .anything. Imagine my sorrow and chagrin, then, when I ob- serve that it would be necessary to drag both my typewriter and myself out from under tlie dust- covers in order to aim some remonstrant remarks at that garrulous fellow who is definitely not my uncle: Bill Tuning. The condescending tenor of his trite effusion fairly roared for a reply. Norman J. Oarkc (no joker, he, no international spy) docs not "really believe" that sex is .a mere fad. He . . . and by that is meant "I" . . . docs not "really believe” anything, and he said so in the original letter, which was solely bemused specu- lation on the possibility that sex is not tlie Eternal {Continued on page 91)

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OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! By POUL ANDERSON Behind a pale Venusian mask lay hidden the arch-humanist, the anti-tech killer . . . one of those who needlessly had strewn Malone blood across the heavens from Saturn to the sun. Now— on distant Trojan asteroids — the rendezvous for death was plainly marked. The most dangerous is not the out- lawed murderer, who only slays men, but the rebellious pliilosopher: for he destroys worlds. Darkness and the chill glitter of stan. Bo Jonsson crouched on a whirling spedr of stone and waited for the man who was com- ing to kill him. 5

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6 PLANET STORIES Tlicre wjs no horizon. Tlie flying moun- tain on wliich he stood was too small. At his back rose a cliff of jagged rock, losing its own blackness in the loom of shadows; its teeth ate raggedly across tlie Milky Way. Before him, a tumbled igneous wilderness slanted crazily off, with one long tliin crag sticking into tlie sky like a grotesque bow- sprit. There was no sound except the tlmdding of his ow'n heart, the harsh rasp of his own breath, locked inside die stinking metal skin of his suit. Otherwise ... no air, no heat, no w'alcr or life or work of man, only a granite nakedness spinning through space out be- yond Mars. Stooping, awkw’ard in the clumsy armor, he put die transparent plastic of his helmet to the ground. Its cold bit at him even di rough the insulating material. He might be able to hear die footsteps of his murderer conducted through the ground. Stillness answered him. He gulped a heavy lungful of tainted air and rose. Tlie odier might be miles away yet, or perhaps very close, catfooting too sofdy to set up vi- brations. A man could do diat when gravity was feeble enough. llie stars blazed with a cruel wintry bril- liance, over him, around him, light-years to fall tlirough emptiness before he reached one. He had been alone among them be- fore; he had almost diought them friends. Sometimes, on a long watch, a man found himself talking to Vega or Spica or dear old Beetle J uice, murmuring what was in him as if die remote sun could understand. But diey didn’t care, he saw that now. To diem, he did not exist, and diey would shine careless- ly long after he ivas gone into night. He had never felt so alone as now, when another man was on die asteroid with him, hunting him down. Bo Jonsson looked at the wrench in his hand. It was long and massive, it would have been heavy on Earth, but it was hardly enough to unscrew the stars and reset the machinery of a universe gone awry. He smiled stiffly at the thought He wanted to laugh too, but checked himself for fear he wouldn't be able to stop. Let's face it, he told himself. You're scored. 'You’re scared swealless. He won- dered if he had spoken it aloud. There was plcnt}’ of room on the asteroid. At least two hundred square miles, probably more if you allowed for the rough surface. He could skulk around, hide . . . and suffo- cate when his tanked air g.ive out. He had to be a hunter, too, and track down the otlier man, before he died. And if he found his enemy, he would probably die a.nyway. He looked about him. Nothing. No sound, no movement, nothing but the streaming of tile constellations .as the asteroid spun. Noth- ing had ever moved here, since the begin- ning of time when moltenness congealed into death. Not till men came and hunted each other. Slowly he forced himself to move. The tlirust of his foot sent him up, looping over tlie cliff to drift down like a dc.ad Icxif in Eartli's October, Suit, equipment, and his own body, all togetlier, weighed only a cou- ple of pounds here. It was ghostly, this soundless progress over fields which had never known life. It was like being dead al- ready. Bo Jonsson’s tongue was dry and tliick in his mouth. He w’anted to find his enemy and give up, buy existence at whatever price it would command. But he couldn’t do that. Even if the other man let him do it, which w'as doubtful, he couldn’t. Johnny Malone was dead. Maybe tliat was w'hat had started it all — tlie death of Johnny Malone. There are numerous reasons for basing on the Trojan asteroids, but Uie main one can be given in a single word : stability. Tliey stay put in Jupiter’s orbit, about sixty degrees ahead and behind, with only minor oscillations; spaceships need not waste fuel coming up to a body which has been per- turbed a goodly distance from where it was supposed to be. The trailing group is the jumping-off place for trans-Jovian planets, the leading group for tlie inner worlds — that way, their own revolution about tlie sun gives tlie departing ship a welcome boost, while minimizing the effects of Jupiter’s drag. Moreover, being dense dusters, tliey have attracted swarms of miners, so tliat Adiilles among the leaders and Patrodus in tlie trail- ers have a permanent boom town atmos- phere. Even though a spaceship and equip-

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OVT OF THE IRON WOMB! ment represent » large investment, this is one of the last strongliolds of genuinely pri- vate enterprise: the prospector, the mine owner, the rockhound dreaming of tlie day when his stake is big enough for him to start out on his own — a race of individualists, rough and noisy and jealous, but living under iron rules of hospitality and rescue. The Last Chance on Achilles has another name, which simply stidcs an "r" in the ofihcial one; even for that planetoid, it is a rowdy bar where Guardsmen come in trios. But Johnny Malone liked it, and talked Bo Jonsson into 'going there for a final spree before checkoff and departure. "Nothing to compare," he insisted. "Every place else is getting too fantangling civilized, except Venus, and I don’t enjoy Venus.” Johnny was from Luna City himself: a small, dark man with the quick nervous movements and clipped accent of that roar- ing commercial metropolis. He affected the latest styles, brilliant colors in the flowing tunic and slacks, a beret cocked on his sle^ head. But somehow he didn’t grate on Bo, they had been partners for several years now. They pushed through a milling crowd at the bar, rockhounds who watched one of Achilles’ three live eedysiasts with hungry eyes, and by some miracle found an empty bootli. Bo squeezed his bulk into one side of the cubicle while Johnny, squinting through a reeking smoke-haze, dialed drinks. Bo was larger and heavier tlian most spacemen— he’d never have gotten his certificate before the ion drive came in — and was usually con- tent to let others talk while he listened. A placid blond giant, with'amiable blue ^es in a battered brown face, he did not consider himself bright, and always wanted to learn. Johnny gulped his drink and winced. "Whiskey, they call it yet! Water, syntlietic alcohol, and a dash of caramel they have the gall to label whiskey and charge for!" "Ever3^ing’s expensive here,” said Bo mildly. "’That's why so few rockhounds get rich. ’They make a lot of money, but they have to spend it just as fast to stay alive.” "Yeh . . . yeh . . . wish they’d spend some of it on us." Johnny grinned and fed the dispenser another coin. It muttered to itself and slid forth a tray with a glass. 'Cmon, drink up, man. It’s a long way home, and 7 we’ve got to fortify ourselves for the trip. A bottle, a battle, and a wench is what I need. Most especially the wench, because I don’t tliink tlie.eminent Dr. McKittrick is gonna be interested in sociability, and it’s close quarters aboard the Dog." Bo kept on sipping slowly. "Johnny,” he said, raising his voice to cut through the din, "you’re an educated man. I never could fig- ure out why you want to talk like a jumper." "Because I am one at heart. Look, Bo, why don't you get over that inferiority com- plex of yours.’ A man can’t run a spaceship without knowing more math and physical science tlian the average professor on Eartli. So you bad to work your way through the Academy and never had a chance to fan yourself with a lily white hand while some- body tootled Mozart through a horn. So what?” Johnny’s head darted around, bird- like. "If we want some women we'd bc-tter make our reservations now.” "I don’t, Johnny,” said Bo. "I’ll just nurse a beer.” It wasn’t morals so much as fastidiousness; he’d wait till they hit Luna. "Suit yourself. If you don’t want to up- hold tlie honor of tlie Sirius Transportation Company — ” Bo cliuckled. ’Tlie Company consisted of (a) the Sirius; (b) her crew, himself and Johnny; (c) a warehouse, berth, and three otlier part owmers back in Luna City. Not exactly a tramp ship, because you can’t nor- mally slop in the middle of an interplanetary voyage and head for somewhere else; but she went wherever there was cargo or people to be moved. Her margin of profit was not great in spite of the charges, for a space trip is expensive; but in a few more years they’d be able to buy another ship or two, and eventually Fireball and Triplanetary would be getting some competition. Even the pub- lic lines might have to worry a little. Johnny put away another couple of shots and rose. Alcohol cost plenty, but it was also more effective in low-gee. " ’Scusc me,” he said. "I see a target. Sure you don’t want me to ask if she has a friend?" Bo shook his head and watched his part- ner move off, swift in the puny gravity — ^the Last Chance didn’t centrifuge like some of the tommicker places downtown. It was hard to push through the crowd without weight to help, but Johnny faded aloug and edged

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PLANET STORIES 8 up to the girl with his highest-powered smile. There were several otlier men stand- ing around her, but Johnny had The Toudi. He’d be bringing her back here in a few minutes. Bo sighed, feeling a bit lonesome. If lie wasn’t going to make a night of it, there was no point in drinking heavily. He had to make the final inspection of the ship tomor- row, and grudged tlie cost of anti-hangover tablets. Besides what he was putti.ng back into the business, he was trying to build a private hoard; some day, he’d retire and get married and build a house. He already had tlie site picked out, on Kullen overlooking the Sound, back on Earth. Man, but it was a long time since he’d been on Earth! A sharp noise slashed through the haze of t.alk and music. Bo looked up. ’Tliere was a taU black haired man, Venusian to judge by his kilts, arguing with Johnny. His face was ugly with anger. Johnny made some reply. Bo heaved up his form and strode toward the discussion, casually picking up anyone in the way and setting him aside. Johnny liked a fight, but this Venusian was big. As he neared, he caught words; " — my girl, dammit.” ’’Like hell I am'” said the girl. ”I ne\-er .saw you before — ” "Run along and play, son,” said Johnny. "Or do you want me to change that diaper of yours? ” Tliat was when it happened. Bo saw the little needier spit from the Venusian’s fin- gers. Johnny stood tliere a moment, looking foolishly at tlie dart in his stomach. Then his knees buckled and he fell with a night- mare slowness. The Venusian was already on the move. He sprang straight up, slammed a kick at the wall, and arced out the door into the dome corridor beyond. A spaceman, that. Knows how to handle himself in low-gee. It was the only clear tliought which ran in the sudden storm of Bo’s head. The girl screamed. A man cursed and tried to follow the Venusian. He tangled with anotlier. ’’Get outta my w'ay!” A roar lifted, someone slugged, someone else coolly smashed a bottle against the bat and lifted the j.agged end. There was the noise of a fi.it meeting flesh. Bo had seen death before. ’That needle wasn’t anesthetic, it was poison. He knelt in tlie riot with Johnny’s body in his arms. II SUDDENLY the world came to an end. There was a sheer drop-off onto the next face of the rough cube which was the asteroid. Bo lay on his belly and peered down the cliff, it tan for a couple of miles and beyond it were tlie deeps of space and the cold stars. He could dimly see the tor- tured swirl of crystallization patterns in tlie smootli bareness. No place to hide; his enemy was not there. He turned the thought over in a mind whicli seemed stiff and slow. By crossing that little plain he was exposing himself to a shot from one of its edges. On the other hand, he could just as weU be bushwhacked from a ravine as he jumped over. And this route was tlie fastest for completing his search scheme. ’Tlie Great Bear slid into sight, down under the world as it turned. He had often stood on winter nights, back in Sweden, and seen its immense sprawl across tlie weird flicker of auror.i; but even then he wanted the spaceman’s experience of seeing it from above. Well, now he had his wish, and much good it had done him. He went over tlie edge of the cliff, cau- tiously, for it wouldn’t take much of an im- petus to tlirow him off tliis rock entirely, i’hen his helpless and soon frozen body would be just another meteor for the next million years. Tlie vague downward sensa- tion of gravity slufted insanely as he moved; he had the feeling that the world was tilting around him. Now it w'as the precipice which was a scarred black plain underfoot, rcacli- ing to a saw-tootlied bluff at its farther edge. He moved with flat low-gee bounds. Be- sides the danger of springing off Hie asteroid entirely, tliere was its low acceleration to keep a man near the ground; jump up a few feet and it would take you a while to fall bade It was utterly silent around him. He had never tliought there could be so much stillness. He was halfw'ay across when die bullet came. He saw no flash, heard no crack, but suddenly tlie fissured land before him ex-

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OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! ploded in x soundless shower of chips. The bullet ricocheted flatly, heading oS for outer space. No meteor gravel, tliat! Bo stood unmoving an instant, fighting tlie impulse to leap away. He was a s[>ace- man, not a rockhound; he wasn’t used to this environment, and if he jumped high he could be riddled as he fell slowly down again. Sweat was cold on his body. He squinted, trying to see where tlie shot had come from. Suddenly he was zigzagging off across tlie plain toward the nearest edge. Anotlier bul- let pocked tlie ground near him. The sun rose, a tiny heatlcss dazzle blinding in his eyes. Fire crashed at his back. Thunder and darkness exploded before him. He lurched forward, driven by the impact Something was roaring, eclioes clamorous in his helmet. He grew dimly aware that it was himself. Then he was falling, whirling down into the black between the stats. Tiere was a knife in his back, it was white-hot and twisting between tlie ribs. He stumbled over the edge of tlie plain and fell, waking when his armor bounced a little against stone. Breath rattled in his tliroat as he turned his head. Tiere was a white plume standing over his sliouldet, ait streaming out through the hole and freezing its moisture. The knife in him was not hot, it was cold with an ultimate cold. Around him, world and stats rippled as if seen through heat, through fever. He hung on the edge of creation by his finger- tips, while chaos shouted bencatli. Theoretically, one man can run a spaceship, but in practice two or three ate requited for non-military craft. This Is not only an emergency reserve, but a pre- ventive of emergencies, for one man alone might get too tired at the critical moments. Bo knew he wouldn’t be allowed to leave Achilles without a certified partner, and un- employed spacemen available for immediate hiring ate found once in a 'Venusian snow- fall. Bo didn't care the first day. He had taken Johnny out to Helmet Hill and laid him in the barren ground to wait, unchanging now, till Judgment Day. He felt empty then. 9 drained of grief and hope alike, his m.sin thought a dull dread of having to tell Johimy’s father when he reached Luna. He was too slow and clumsy with words; his comforting hand would only break the old man’s back. Old Malone had given six sons to space, Johnny was the last; from Saturn to the sun, his blood was strewn for nothing. It hardly seemed to matter tliat the Guards office reported itself unable to find the mur- derer. A single Venusian should have been easy to trace on Achilles, but he seemed to have vanished completely. Bo returned to the transient quarters and dialed Valeria McKittrick. Slie looked impa- tiently at him out of the screen. "Well," she said, "what’s tlie matter? I thought we were blasting today.” "Hadn’t you heard?" asked Bo. He found it hard to bdieve she could be ignorant, here where everybody’s life was known to every- body else. "Johnny’s dead. We can’t leave.’’ "Oh . . . I’m sorry. He was such a nice little man— I’ve been in the lab all the time, packing my tilings, and didn’t know.” A frown crossed her clear brow. "But you’ve got to get me back. I’ve engaged passage to Luna with you.” "Your ticket will be refunded, of course,” said Bo heavily. "But you aren’t certified, and tlie Sirius is licensed for no less than hvo operators." "Well . . . damn! Tiere won’t be another berth for weeks, and I’ve got to get home. Can’t you find somebody?" Bo shrugged, not caring much. "I’ll cir- culate an ad if you want, but — ” "Do so, please. Let me know." She switched off. Bo sat for a moment thinking about her. Valeria McKittrick was worth considering. She wasn’t beautiful in any convention.d sense but she was tall and well built; there were good lines in the strong high boned face, and her hair was a cataract of spectacu- lar red. And brains, too . . . you didn t get to be a physicist with tlie Union’s radiation labs for nothing. He knew she was still young, and that she had been on Achilles for about a year working on some special project and was now ready to go home. She was human enough, had been to most of tlie officers’ parties and danced and laughed and flirted mildly, but even tlie

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PLANET STORIES 10 dullest rockhound gossip knew she was too lost in her work to do more. Out here a woman was rare, and a virtuous woman un- heard-of; as a result, unknown to herself. Dr. McKittrick’s fame had spread through more tliousands of people and millions of miles tlian her professional acliicvements w’ere ever likely to read). Since coming here, on commission from the Lunar lab, to bring her home. Bo Jons- son had given her an occasional wistful thought. He liked intelligent women, and he was getting tired of rootlessness. But of course it would be a catastrophe if he fell in love with her because she wouldn’t look twice at a big dumb slob like him. He had sweated out a couple of similar affairs in tlie past and didn't want to go tlirough anotlier. He placed his ad on the radinews circuit and then went out to get drunk. It was all he could do for Johnny now, drink him a final wassail. Already his friend was cold under tlie stars. In tlie course of tlic evening he found himself weeping. He woke up many hours later. Achilles ran on Eartli time but did not rotate on it; officially, it was late at night, actually tlie shrunken sun was high over tlie domes. The man in tlie upper bunk said there was a mes- sage for him; he was to call one Einar Lund- gard at the Comet Hotel soonest. The Comet! Anyone who could afford a room to himself here, rather than a kip in the public barracks, was well fueled. Bo swallowed a tablet and made his way to the visi and dialed. The robo-clerk summoned Lundgard down to tlie desk. It was a lean, muscular face under close cropped brown hair whicli appeared in the screen. Lundgard was a tall and supple man, somehow neat even without clothes. "Jons- son,” said Bo. "Sorry to get you up, but I understood — ’’ "Oh, yes. Are you looking for a space- man? I heard your ad and I’m available." ' Bo felt his mouth gape open. "Hull? I never thought — ’’ "We're both lucky, I guess.” Lundgard chuckled. His English had only the slightest trace of accent, less tlian Bo’s. "I thought I w'as stashed here too for tlie next several months.” "How docs a qmlified spaceman happen to be marooned?” "I’m witli Fireball, was on the Vrakf — heard of w’hat happened to her?” Bo nodded, for every spaceman knows ex- actly what es'ery spaceship is doing at any given time. The Drake had come to Achilles to pick up a cargo of refined thorium for Eaiili; while she lay in orbit, she bad some- how lost a few hundred pounds of reaction- mass water from a cracked gasket Why the accident should have occurred, nobody knew . . . spacemen were not careless about in- spections, and w'hat reason would anyone have for sabotage? Tlie event had taken place about a month ago, when tlie Sirius w'as already enroute here; Bo had heard of it in tlie course of shop talk. "I thought she went back anyway,” he said. Lundgard nodded. "She did. It was the usual question of economics, 'k’ou know what refined fuel water costs in the Belt; also, tlie delay while we got it would have carried Earth and Achilles past optimum position, which’d make the trip home that much more expensive. Since we had one more man aboard tlian really required, it was cheaper to leave him behind; the difference in mass would make up for the fuel loss. I volunteered, even suggested tlie idea, be- cause . . . well, it happened during my watch, and even if nobody blamed me I couldn’t help feeling guilty.” Bo understood that kind of loyalty. You couldn’t travel space without men who had it "The Company beamed a message: I’d stay here till tlieir scliedule permitted an undermanned ship to come by, but that wouldn’t be for maybe months,” went on Lundgard. "I can’t see sitting on this lump that long without so much as a chance at planetfall bonus. If you'll take me on. I’m sure tlie Company will agree; I'll get a mes- sage to them on the beam tight away.” "Take us a while to get back,” warned Bo. "We’re going to stop off at another asteroid to pick up some automatic equip- ment, and won’t go into hyperbolic orbit tm after that. About six weeks from here to Eartli, all told." "Against six months here?” Lundgard laughed; it emphasized the bright charm of his manner. "Sunblazc, I’ll work foe free.”

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11 OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! “No need to. Bring your p-ipers over to- morrow, huh?" The certificate and record were perfectly in order, showing Einar Lundgard to be a Spacetcch 1/cl with eight years' experience, qualified as engineer, astronaut, pilot, and any otlier of the thousand professions wliich have run into one. Tliey registered articles and shook hands on it. “Call me Bo. It really is my luame . . . Swedish.” “Another squarehead, eh?” grinned Lund- gard. 'Tm from Soudi America myself." "Notice a year’s gap here,” said Bo, point- ing to the service record. "On 'Venus." “Oh, yes. I had some fool idea about set- tling but soon learned better. I tried to farm, but when you have to carve your own land out of howling desert — Well, let’s start some math, shall we?" They w'ere lucky, not having to wait their turn at the station computer; no other ship was leaving immediately. They fed it the data and requirements, and got back col- umns of numbers: fuel requirements, accel- eration times, orbital elements. Tlie figures always h.ad to be modified, no trip ever turned out just as predicted, but that could be done when needed with a slipstick and the little ship’s calculator. Bo went at his share of the job doggedly, checking and re-checking before giving the problem to the machine; Lundgard breezed through it and spent his time while waiting for Bo in swapping dirty limericks with the tech. He had some good ones. The Skills was loaded, inspected, and cleared. A "scooter" brought her tliree pas- sengers up to her orbit, tliey embarked, set- tled down, and w'aited. At tlie proper time, acceleration jammed them back in a thunder of rocicets. Bo relaxed against the thrust, thinking of Adiilles falling away behind tlicm. “So long,” he whispered. “So long, Johnny." Ill IN ANOTHER minute, he would be knotted and screaming from tlie bends, and a couple of minutes later he would be dead. Bo clamped his teeth togetlier, as if he would grip consciousness in his jaws. His hands felt cold and heavy, tlie hands of a stranger, as he fumbled for the supply pouch. It seemed to recede from him, dosvn a hollow infinite corridor where echoes talked in a language he did not know. "Damn,” he gasped. “Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.” He got the poucli open somcliow. The stars w’lieeled around him. Tliere were stars buzzing in his head, like cold while fireflies, buzzing and buzzing in the enormous ring- ing emptiness of his skull. Pain jagged through him, he felt his eardrums popping as pressure dropped. The plastic patdi stuck to his metal gaunt- let. He peeled it off, trying not to how 1 with the fury ripping in his nerves. His body was slow, inert, a thing to fight. Tliere was no more feeling in his back, was he dead al- ready? Redness flamed before his eyes, red like 'Valeria’s hair blowing across tlie stars. It was sheer reflex wliidi brought his arm around to slap the patch over the hole in his suit. The adhesive gripped, drying List in the sucking vacuum. The patch bellied out from internal air pressure, straining to break loose and kill him. Bo’s mind wavered back toward life. He opened the valves wide on his tanks, and his thermostatic capacitors pumped heat back into him. For a long time he lay there, only lungs and heart had motion. His throat felt w'ithered and flayed, but the rasp of air through it was like being born again. Born, spewed out of an iron womb into a hollowness of stars and cold, to lie on naked rock while the enemy hunted him. Bo shud- dered and wanted to scream again. Slowly he groped back toward awareness. His frostbitten back tingled as it w.armcd up again, soon it would be afire. He could -fed a hot trickling of blood, but it was along his right side. The bullet must have spent most of its force punching through the armor, caromed off the inside, scratched his ribs, and fallen dead. Next time he, probably wouldn’t be so lucky. A magnetic-driven .30 slug would go right through a helmet, splashing brains as it passed. He turned his head, feeling a great w'eari- ness, and looked at tlie gauges. Tliis had cost him a lot of air. There was only about three hours worth left. Lundgard could kill him simply by waiting.

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12 PLANET STORIES It would be easy to die. He lay on his back, staring up at tlie stars and the spilling cloudy glory of the Milky Way. A warmth was creeping back into numbed hands and feet; soon he would be warm all over, and sleepy. His eyelids felt heavy, strange tliat they should be so heavy on an asteroid. He wanted terribly to sleep. There wasn’t much room in tlie Sirius, tile only privacy was gained by drawing curtains across your bunk. Men without psych training could get to hate each other on a voyage. Bo wondered if he would reacli Luna hating Einar Lundgard. The man was competent, a willing worker, tempering his cheerfulness with tact, always immaculate in the neat blue and white of the Fireball Line which made Bo feel doubly sloppy in his own old gray coverall. He was a fine conversationalist with an enormous stock of reminiscence and ideas, witty above a certain passion of belief. It seemed as if he and Valeria were always talking, ani- mated voices like a sound of life over the mechanical ship-murmurs, while Bo sat dumbly in a corner wishing he could think of something to say. The trouble was, in spite of all his efforts, he was doing a cometary dive into another bad case of one-sided love. When she spoke in that husky voice of hers, gray gleam of eyes under hair that floated flaming in null- gee, the beauty he saw in her was like pain. And she was always around. It couldn’t be helped. Once they had gone into free fall he could only polish so mucli metal and tinker with so many appliances; after that they were crowded together in a long waiting. — "And why were you all alone in the Belt.’’’ asked Lundgard. "In spite of all tlie romantic stories about tlie wild free life of the rockhound, it’s tlie dullest place in the System," "Not to me," she smiled. "I was working. There were experiments to be done, factors to be measured, away from solar radiation. There are always ions around inside the or- bit of Mars to jamble up a delicate appa- ratus.” Bo sat quiet, trying to keep his eyes ofi her. She looked good in shorts and half- cape. Too good. "It’s something to do with power beam- ing, isn't it?" Lundgard’s handsome face creased in a frown. "Afraid I don’t quite un- derstand. They’ve been beaming power on the planets for a long time now." "So they have,” she nodded. "What we’re after is an interplanetary power beam. And we’ve got it.” She gestured to the baggage rack and a thick trunk full of papers she had put there. "That’s it. ’Hie basic circuits, fac- tors, and constants. Any competent engineer could draw up a design from them.” "Hmmm . . . precision work, eh?” "Obviously! It was hard enough to do on, say. Earth — you need a really tight beam in just tlie right frequencies, a feedback signal to direct each beam at the desired outlet, re- lay stations— oh, yes, it was a ten-year re- search project before they could even tliink about building. An interplanetary beam has all tliose problems plus a number of its own. You have to get the dispersion down to a figure so low it hardly seems possible. You can’t use feedback because of tlie time lag, so the beams have to be aimed exactly right — and the planets are always moving, at miles per second. An error of one degree would throw your beam almost two million miles off in crossing one A. U. And besides being so precise, tlie beam has to carry a begawatt at least to be worth the trouble. I'he problem looked insoluble till someone in the Order of Planetary Engineers came up witli an idea for a trick control circuit hooked into a spe- cial computer. My lab’s been working to- gether with the Order on it, and I was mak- ing certain final determinations for them. It’s finished now . . . twelve years of work and we’re done.” She laughed. "Except for building tlie stations and getting the bugs out!” Lundgard cocked an oddly sardonic brow. "And what do you hope for from it?” he asked. "What have the psychotechs decided to do with this thing?” "Isn’t it obvious?" she cried. "Power! Nuclear fuel is getting scarcer every day, and civilization is finished if we can’t find an- other energy source. The sun is pouring out more than we’ll ever need, but slieer distance dilutes it below a useful level by the time it gets to Venus. "We’ll build stations on the hot side of Mercury. Orbital stations can relay. We can

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OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! get the beams as far out as Mars without too much dispersion. It’ll bring down the rising price of atomic energy, whicli is making ail other prices rise, and stretcli our supply of fissionables for centuries more. No more fuel worries, no more Martians freezing to death because a converter fails, no more dan feuds on Venus starting over uranium beds—” The excited flush on her cheeks was lovely to look at. Lundgard shook his head. Tliere was a sadness in his smile. "You’re a true child of the New Enlightemiient,” he said. "Reason will solve everything. Science will find a cure for all our ills. Give man a cheap energy source and leave him forever happy. It won’t work, you know." Something like anger crossed her eyes, "What are you?” she asked. "A Humanist?" "Yes," said Lundgard quietly. Bo started. He’d known abtwt the anti- psychotechnic movement which was growing on Earth, seen a few of its adherents, but — "I never thought a spaceman would be a Humanist," he stammered. Lundgard shrugged wryly. "Don't be afraid. I don’t eat babies. I don’t even get hysterics in an argument All I’ve done is use the scientific m^od, observing the world without preconceptions, and learned by it that the scientific method doesn’t have all the answers." “Instead," said Valeria scornfully, "we should all go back to church and pray for what we want rather than working for it." “Not at alL" said Lundgard mildly. "The New EnligJjtenment is — or was, because it’s dying — a very natural state of mind. Here Earth had oome out of the World Wars, racked and ruined, starving and chaotic, and all because of unbridled ideology. So the [diysical scientists produced goods and ma- chines and oonque^ the planets; the biol- ogists found new food sources and new cures foe disease; the psydiotechs built up their knowledge to a point where the socio- economic unity could really be planned and the plan worked. Man was unified, war had sunken to an occasional small ’police action,’ people were eating and had comfort and security — all through applied, working sci- ence. Naturally they came to believe reason would solve their remaining problems. But this faith in reason was its& an emotional 13 reaction from the preceding .age of unreason. "Well, we’ve had a century of enlighten- ment now, and it has created its ow'n trou- bles which it can.npt solve. No age can han- dle the difliailties it raises for itself; tliat’s left to the next era. There are practical prob- lems arising, and no mater how desperately tlie psychotechs work tliey aren’t succeeding with tliem.” "What problems?" asked Bo, feeling a little bewildered. "Man, don’t you ever see a newscast?” challenged Lundgard. The Second Industrial Revolution, millions of people thrown out of work by tlie new automata^ Tliey aren’t going hungry, but they arc displaced and bitter. The economic center of Earth is shift- ing to Asia, the political power with it, and hundreds of millions of Asians are skeptical aboard tliis antiseptic New Order the West has been bringing them: cultural resistance, and not all the psychotechnic propaganda in the System can shake it off. Tlie men of Mars, Venus, the Belt, the Jovian moons are developing their own civilizations-^inevi- tably, m alien environments; tlieit own ways of living and thinking, which just don’t fit into the neat scheme of an Earlh-dominated Solar Union. The psychotechs themselves are being driven to oligarchic, unconstitutional acts; tliey have no choice, but ic’s making them enemies. "And then there’s the normal human en- ergy and drive. Man can only be safe and sane and secure for so long, then he reacts. This New Enlightenment is really a deca- dent age, a period where an exhausted civi- lization has been resting under a holy status quo. It can’t last. Man always wants some- thing new.” "You Humanists talk a lot about ’man’s right to variability,’ " said Valeria. ”If you r^ly carry off that revolution your writings advocate you’ll just trade one power group for another — and more fanatic, less lawful, than the present one." “Not necessarily," said Lundgard. "After aH, the Union will probably break up. It can’t last forever. All we want to do is hasten the day because we feel that it’s out- lived its usefulness." Bo shook his head. "I can’t see it," he said heavily. "I just can’t see it All those people — ^the Lunarites, the violent clansmen on

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PLANET STORIES 14 Venus, tlie stiff correct Martians, the asteroid rockhounds, even those mysterious Jovians — they all came from Eartli. It was Earth’s help that made tlieir planets habitable. We’re all men, all one race.” "A fiction,” said Lundgard. "Ihe human race is a fiction, nierc are only small groups with tlieir own conflicting interests.” "And if those conflicts are allowed to break into war — ’’ said Valeria. "Do you know what a lithium bomb can do?’’ There was a reckless gleam in Lundgard’s e}>es. "If a period of interplanetary wars is necessary, let’s get it over witli,” he an- swered. "Enough men will survive to build something better. ’Tliis age has gotten stale. It’s petrifying. ’Tliere have been plenty of shake-ups in history — the fall of Rome, tlie Reformation, the Napoleonic Wars, tlie World W’ars. It’s been man’s way of pro- gressing.” "I don’t know about all tliose," said Bo slowly. "I just know I wouldn’t want to live through such a time.” "You’re soft,” said Lundgard. "Downun- deriieatli you’re soft.” He lauglied disarm- ingly. "Pardon me. I didn’t mean anything personal. I’ll never convince you and you’ll never convince me, so let’s keep it friendly. I hope you’ll have some free time on Luna, Valeria. I know a little grill where they serve the best synthosteaks in the System.” "All right,” she smiled. "It’s a date.” Bo mumbled some excuse and went aft. He was still calling her Dr. McKittrick. IV YOU can’t just lie here and let him come kill you. There was a picture behind his eyes; he didn’t know if it was a dream or a long buried memory. He stood under an aspen which quivered and rustled as if it laughed to itself softly, softly, when the wind em- braced it. And the wind was blowing up a red granite slope, wild and salt from the Sound, and tliere were towering clouds lift- ing over Denmark to the west. The sunlight rained and streamed through aspen leaves, broken, shaken, falling in spatters against the earth, and he. Bo Jonsson, lauglied with the wind and the tree and the far watery glitter of the Sound. He opened his eyes, wearily, like an old man. Orion was marching past, and there was a blaze on crags five miles off which told of the rising sun. ’The asteroid spun swiftly; he had been here for many of its days now, and each d.ay burdened him like a year. Got to get out of here, he knew. He sat up, pain tearing along his fur- rowed breast. Somehow he had kept the wrench with him, he stared at k in a dull wonder. Where to go, where to hide, what to do? Thirst nagged him. Slowly he uncoiled the tube which led from the electrically heated canteen welded to his suit, screwed its end into tlie helmet nipple, tliumbed down the clamp wliidi closed it, and sucked hard. It helped a little. He dragged himself to his fec-t and stood swaying, only the near-weightlessness kept him erect. Turning his head in its transpar- ent cage, he saw tlie sun rise, and bright spots danced before him when he looked away. His vision cleared, but for a moment he tliought Uie shadow lifting over a nearby ridge was a wisp of unconsciotisness. ’Then he made out tlie bulky black-painted edge of it, gigantic against tlie Milky Way, and it was Lundgard, moving unhurriedly up to kill him. A dark laughter was in his radio ear- phones. "Take it easy. Bo. I’ll be there in a minute.” He backed away, his heart a sudden thun- der, looking for a place to hide. Down! Get down and don’t stand where he can see you! He crouched as much as tlie armor would allow and broke into a bounding run. A slug spat broken stone near his feet. ’The powdery dust hung for minutes before settling. Breath rattled in his throat. He saw tlie lip of a meteoric crater and dove. Crouching there, he heard Lundgard’s voice again: "You’re somewhere near. Why not come out and finish it now?” ’The radio was non-directional, so he snapped back: "A gun against a monkey wrencli?” Lundgard’s coolness broke a little; there was almost a puzzled note: "I hate to do this. Why can’t you be reasonable? I don’t want to kill you.”

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1.') OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! “The trouble,” said Bo harshly, "is that 1 want to kill you." "Behold the man of tlie New Enlighten- ment!" Bo could imagine Lundgard's grin. It would be tight, and there would be swe.at on die lean face, but die amusement w-as genuine. Didn't you believe sweet reason- ableness could solve everything? This is only the beginning. Bo, just a small preliminary hint that die age of reason is dying. I've already converted you to my way of think- ing, by the very fact you're fighting me. Why not admit it?” Bo shook his head — futile gesture, looked in darkness where he lay. Tliere was a frosty blaze of stars when he looked up. It was more than himself and Johnny Malone, more even than die principle of the thing and die catastrophe to all men which Lundgard's victory me.ant. There was some- thing deep and primitive which would not let him surrender, even in die teeth of anni- hilation. Valeria's im.age swayed before him. Lundgard was moving around, peering over the shadowy tumble of blackened rock in search of any trace. There was a magnetic rifle in his hands. Bo strained his helmet to the crater floor, trying to hear ground vibra- tions, but diere was nothing. He didn't know where Lundgard was. only that he was very near. Blindly, he bundled his legs and sprang out of the pit. They found th easteroid where Valeria had left her recording instruments. It was a tiny drifting fragment of a world which had never been born, turning end- lessly between the constellations; the Sirius moored fast with grapples, and Valeria donned a spacesuit and went out to get her apparatus. Lundgard accompanied her. As there was only work for two. Bo stayed be- hind. He slumped for a while in the pilot chair, letting his mind pace tlirough a circle of fu- tility. 'V'alcria, Valeria, Valeria — O strong and fair and never to be forgotten, would he ever see her again after they made Luna? This worit do, he told himself dully. 1 should at least keep busy. Thank God jot leork. He wasn’t much of a thinker, he knew that, but he had cleverness in his hands. It was satisfying to watch a machine come right under his tools. Working, he could sec the falseness of Lundgard’s philosophy. The man could quote history all he wanted; weave a glittering circle of logic around Bo’s awkward brain, but it didn't change facts. Maybe this century was headed for trouble; maybe psychotechnic government was only another human self-limitation and should he clianged for something else; nevertheless, the truth remained tliat most men were workers who wished no more than peace in which to create as best tliey could. All the high ideals in the universe weren't worth breaking the Union for and sma.shing the work of human hands in a single burst of annihilating flame. i can feel it, down inside me. But why catdl I say it? He got up and went over to the baggage rack, remembering that Lundgard had doz- ens of book-reels along and that reading would help him not to think about what he could never have. On a planet Bo would not have dreamed of helping himself without asking first. But custom is different in space, where there is no privacy and men must be a unit if they are to survive. He was faintly surprised to sc-e that Lundgard's personal suitcase was locked; but it would be hours, probably, be- fore the owner got back: dism.antling a re- corder setup took time. A long time, in whicli to talk and laugh with Valeria. In the chill spatial radiance, her hair would be like frosty fire. Casually, Bo stooped across to Lundgard's sack-hammock and took his key ring off the hook. He opened the suitcase and lifted out some of the reds in search of a promising title. Underneath them were neatly folded clothes. Fireball uniforms and fancy dress pajamas. A tartan edge stuck out from be- low, and Bo lifted a coat to see what clan that was. Probably a souvenir of Lundgard's Venusian stay — Next to the kilt w'as a box which he recog- nized. L-masks came in such boxes. How the idea came to him, he did not know. He stood there for minutes, looking at the box without seeing it The ship was very quiet around him. He had a sudden feeling tliat the walls were closing in.

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PLANET STORIES 16 When he opened the box, his hands shook, and there was sweat trickling along his ribs. The mask was of the latest type, meant to fit over tlie head, snug around the cheeks and mouth and jaws. It was like a second skin, reflecting expression, not to be told from a real face. Do saw tlie craggy nose and the shock of dark hair, limp now, but — Suddenly he was back on Achilles, with riot roaring around him and Johnny Ma- lone’s body in his arms. No wonder they never found tliat Venu- sian. There never was any. Bo felt a dim shock when he looked at tlie chronometer. Only five minutes had gone by while he stood tliere. Only five minutes to turn tire cosmos inside out. Very slowly and carefully he repacked tire suitcase and pirt it in the rack and sat down to thiirk. What to do? Accuse Lundgard to his face — no, tire man undoubtedly carried tlrat needier. And tlrere was Valeria to think of. A ricocheting dart, a scratch on her, no! It took Bo a long time to decide; his brain seemed viscous. When he looked out of a port to tire indif- ferent stats, he slruddered. They came back, shedding their space- suits in the airlock; frost whitened the armor as moisture condensed on chilled sur- faces. The metal seemed to breathe cold. Valeria went efliciently to work, stowing tire boxed instruments as carefully as if they were her children. There was a laughter on her lips which turned Bo’s heart around in- side him. Lundgard leaned over the tiny desk where he sat. "What y’ doing?" he asked. ’’Recalculating our orbit to Luna,’’ said Bo. "I want to go slow for a few million miles before going up to hyperbolic speed." Why? It’ll add days to the trip, and the fuel — ’’ "I . . . I’m afraid we might barge into Swarm 770. It’s supposed to be near here now and, uh, the positions of tliose things are never known for sure . . . perturba- tions . . .’’ Bo’s mouth felt dry. "You’ve got a megamile of safety margin or your orbit would never have been ap- proved,” argued Lundgard. "Hell damn it. I’m the captain!’’ yelled Bo. "All right, all right . . . take it easy, skip- , per.” Lundgard shot a humorous glance at Valeria. "I certainly don’t mind a few extra days in ... the present company.” She smiled at him. Bo felt ill. His excuse was thin; if Lundgard drought to clieck die ephemeris, it would fall to ruin. But he couldn’t tell the real reason. An iron-drive ship does not need to drift along the economical Hohmann "A” orbit of die big freighters; it can build up such furious speed that the sun will swing it along a hyjierbola radicr dian an ellipse, and can still brake that speed near its destination. But the critical stage of acceleration has to be just right, or there will not be enough fuel to stop completely; the ship will be pulled into a cometary orbit and run help- less, the crew probably starving before a res- cue vessel can locate them. Bo dared not risk the trouble exploding at full drive; he would drift along, capture and bind Lundgard at die first cliance, and then head for Earth. He could handle the Sirius alone even if it was illegal; he could not handle her if he had to fight simultaneously. His knuckles were white on the controls as he loosed die grapples and nudged away from the asteroid with a whisper of power. After a few minutes of low acceleration, he cut die rockets, checked position and vel- ocity, and nodded. "On orbit,” he said mechanically. "It’s your turn to cook, Ei . . . Einar.’’ Lundgard swooped easily through die air into die cubbyhole which served for a galley. Cooking in free fall is an art which not all spacemen master, but he could — ^his meals were even good. Bo felt a helpless kind of rage at his owm clumsy efforts. He crouched in midair, dark of mind, a leg hooked around a stanchion to keep from drifting. When someone touched him, bis heart jumped and he whirled around. "What’s the matter. Bo?” asked Valeria. "You look like doomsday.’’ "I . . . I . . .’’ He gulped noisily and twisted his mouth into a smile. Just feeling a ^ little off.” "It’s more than that, I think." Her eyes were grave. "You've seemed so unliappy the

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17 OUT OF THE IRON WOMB! whole trip. Is there anything I can do to help?" "Thanks . . . Dr. McKittrick . . . but — ” "Don’t be so formal," she said, almost wistfully. "I don't bite. Too many men think I do. Can't we be friends? " “With a thick-headed clinker like me?” His whisper was raw. "Don't be silly. It takes brains to be a spaceman. I like a man who knows when to lie quiet." She lowered her eyes, the lashes were long and sooty black. “Tliere’s some- thing solid about you, something so few peo- ple seem to have these days. I wish you wouldn’t go feeling so inferior.” At any other time it would have been a sunburst in him. Now he thought of death, and mumbled .something and looked away. A hurt expression crossed her face. "I w'on't bother you," she said gently, and moved off. The tiling was to fall on Lundgard while he slept — • The radar alarm buzzed during a dinner in which Lundgard’s flow of talk had bat- tered vainly against silence and finally given up. Bo vaulted over to the control panel and cliecked. No red light glowed, and the auto- pilot wasn’t whipping them out of danger, so they weren't on a collision course. But the object was getting close. Bo calculated it was an asteroid on an orbit almost parallel to their own, relative speed only a few feet per second; it would come witliin ten miles or so. In the magnifying periscope, it showed as a jagged dark cube, turning around itself and fla.sliing hard glints of sunlight off mica beds — perhaps six miles square, all crags and cracks and fracture faces, hcatlras and lifeless and kindless. V Lundgard yawned elaborately after dinner. "Excuse," he said. "Unless somebody’s for chess?” His hopeful glance met the grimness of Bo and the odd sadness of 'Valeria, and he shrugged. "All right, tlicn. Pleasant dreams.” After ten minutes — now! Bo uncoiled himself. "Valeria," he whis- pered, as if the name were holy. "Yes?" She arched her brows ex^xxtantly. "I can't stop to explain now. I ve got to 2 — Planet — Summer do something dangerous. Get back aft of the gyro housing." "What?" "Get back!" Command blazed frantically in him. "And stay there, whatever happens." Something like fear flickered in her eyes. It was a very long way to human help. Then she nodded, puzzled but with an obedience which held gallantry, and slipped out of sight behind the steel pillar. Bo launched himself across tlic room in a single null-gee bound. One hand ripped aside Lundgard's curtain, the otlic-r got him by the tliroat. What the hell — ” Lundgard exploded into life. His fist crashed against Bo’s cheek. Bo held on with one hand and slugged with tlie other. Knuckles bounced on rubbery muscle. Lund- gard’s arm snaked for the tunic stretched on his bunk wall; his body came lithely out of the sack. Bo snatched for that wrist. Lund- gard's free hand came around, edged out to slam him in the larynx. Pain ripped through Bo. He let go and sailed across the room. Lundgard was pull- ing out his needier. Bo hit tlie opposite wall and rebounded — not for tlie armed man, but for tlie control panel. Lundgard spat a dart at him. It burst on the viewport over his shoulder, and Bo taught the acrid whiff of poison. Then the converter was ro,aring to life and whining gyros spun die ship around. Lundgard was hurled across the room. He collected himself, c.atlike, grabbed a stanchion, and raised the gun.^again. "I’ve got the drop," he said. "Get away from there or you’re a dead man." It was as if someone else had seized Bo’s body. Decision was like lightning through him. He had tried to capture Lundgard, and failed, and venom crouclied at his b.uk. But the ship w'as pointed for the asteroid now, where it hung gloomily a dozen miles off, and the rockets were ready to spew. "If you shoot me," said Bo, "I'll live just long enough to pour on tlie juice. We’ll hit that rock and scatter from hell to break- fast." Valeria emerged. Lundgard swung the needier to cover her. "Stay where you arc!" he rapped. "What’s happening?” she said fearfully.

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18 PLANET STOlilES "I don't know," said Lundgard. "Bo's gone crazy — -attacked me — " Wrath boiled black in the pilot. He snarled, "You killed my partner. You must'a been .fi.xing to kill us too.” "What do you mean?" whispered Valeria. "How should I know?" said Lundgard. "He's jumped his orliit, that's all. Look, Bo, be reason.ible. Get away from tliat panel— " "Look in his suitcase, Valeria.” Bo forced the words out of a tautened throat. "A Ve- nusi.’.n shot my partner. You’ll find his face and his clothes in Lundgard's things. I'd know that face in the middle of the sun.” She hung for a long wliile, not moving. Bo couldn't sec her. His eyes were nailed to tire asteroid, keeping the ship's nose pointed at it. "Is that true, Einar?'’ she asked finally. "No,” said. "Of course not. I do have Venusian clothes and a mask, but — " llien why are you keeping me covered too?'’ Lundgard didn't answer at once. The only noise was the murmur of machinery and tlie dense breathing of three pairs of lungs, "riien his laugh jarred forth. "All right,” he said. "1 hadn’t meant it to come yet, or to come this way, but all right.” "Why did you kill Johnny?” Tears stung Bo's eyes. He never hurt you.” "It was necessary.” Lundgard's mouth tw’itchcd. "But you see, we knew you were going to Achilles , to pick up Valeria and her data. We needed to get a man aboard your ship, to take over when her orbit brought her close to out asteroid base. You've forced my hand — I wasn’t going to capture you for days yet. I sabotaged the Drake's fuel tanks to get myself stranded there, and shot your friend to get his berth. I’m sorry.” "Why?” Horror rode Valeria's voice. "I’m a Humanist. I’ve never made a se- cret of that. Wliat out secret is, is that some of us aren’t content just to talk revolution. We want to give tliis rotten, over-mecha- nized society the shove that will bring on its end. We've built up a small force, not much as yet, not enough to accomplisli anything lasting. But if w-e had a solar power beam it would make a big difference. It could be adapted to direct military uses, as well as suppl)’ing energy to our madiines. A lens effect, a concentration of solar radiation strong cnougli to burn. Well, it seems worth trying.” "And wliat do you intend for us?” "You'll have to be kept prisoners for a while, of course,” said Lundgard. "It won’t be onerous. We aren’t beasts.” “No, " said Bo. "Just murderers." "S.-ive the dramaites,” snapped Lundgard. "I have tile gun. Get away from those con- trols." Bo shook liis head. Tliere was a wild ham- mering in Ids breast, but his voice surprised him will) ste.idiness: "No. I’ve got the up- per hand. I can kill you if you move. Yell if he tries anything, Valeria.” Lundgard’s eyes challenged lier. "Do you want to die?” he asked. Her head lifted. "No,” sl'.e said, "but I'm not afraid to. Go ahead if you must. Bo. It's all right.” BO I'ELT cold. He knew he wouldn’t. He was bluffing. In the final show’down he could not crash her. He had seen too many wiliicrcd space drained mummies in his time. But maybe Lundgard didn’t realize tliat. "Give up,” he said. "You can’t gain a damn thing. I'm not going to see a billion people burned alive just to save our necks. Make a bargain for your life." "No,” said Lundgard with a airious gen- tleness. "I have my own brand of honor. I’m not going to surrender to you. You can’t sit there forever.” Impasse. The ship floated through eternal silence while they waited. "All tight,” said Bo. "I’ll figlit you for the power be.am.” How’s that?” "I can tlirow this ship into orbit around the asteroid. We can go down tliere and set- tle the thing between us. Hie winner can jump up here again with the help of a jet of tanked air. llie lump hasn’t got much gravity.” Lundgard hesitated. "And how do I know you’ll keep your end of tlie bargain?” he asked. "You could let me go tlirough the airlock, then close it and blast off." Bo had had some such tliought, but he miglit have known it wouldn’t work. "What

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OUT OF THE IRON WOMB I do you suggest?" he countered, never taking his eyes off die planetoid. "Remember, I don’t trust you eidier." Lundgard laughed suddenly, a hard yelp ing bark. "1 know! Valeria, go aft and re- move all the control-rod links and spares. Bring them back here. I’ll go out first, tak- ing half of them with me, and Bo can follow with die other half. He'll have to." “I — no! I won't,” she whispered. "I can’t let you — ’’ "Go ahead and do it," said Bo. He felt a sudden vast weariness. It’s the only way we can break this deadlock.” She wept as she went toward die engine room. Lundgard’s thought was good. Without linked control-rods, the converter couldn’t operate five minutes, it would flare up and melt itself and kill everyone aboard in a flood of radiation. Whoever won die duel could quickly re-install the necessary parts. lliere was a waiting silence. At last Lund- gard said, almost abstractedly: "Holmgang. Do you know what that means, Bo?" "No." "You ought to. It was a custom of our an- cestors back in the early Middle Ages — the Viking time. Two men would go off to a litdc island, a holm, to settle their differ- ences; one would come back. I never thought it could happen out here." He cliuckled bleakly. “Valkyries in spacesuits?" The girl came back with die links tied in two bundles. Lundgard counted tlicm and nodded. “All right." He seemed strangely calm, an easy assurance lay over him like armor. Bo’s fear was cold in his belly, and Valeria wept still with a helpless horror. Tlie pilot used a safe two minutes of low blast to edge up to die asteroid, ’ I’ll go into the airlock and put on my spacesuit," said Lundgard. "Then I’ll jump down and you can put the ship in orbit. Don’t try anything while I’m clianging, because I’ll keep this needier handy." "It won’t work against a spacesuit," said Bo. Lundgard laughed. "1 know," he said. He kissed his hand to Valeria and backed into die lock chamber. Ihe outer valve closed behind him. "Bo!" Valeria grabbed the pilot by the shoulders, and he looked around into her 19 face. "You can’t go out there, I won’t let you, I—" "If I don’t," he said tonelessly, "we’II orbit around here till we starve." "But you could be killed!" "I hope not. For your sake, mosdy, I hope not," he said awkwardly. "But he won't have any more weapon than me, just a monkey wrench.” Tliere was a metal tube w'elded to the leg of each suit for holding tools; wrenches, the most commonly used, were simply left diere as a rule. "I’m bigger than he is." "But — " She laid her head on his breast and shuddered widi crying. He tried to com- fort her. "All right,” he said at last "All tight. Lundgard must be tlirough. I’d better get started." "Leave him!" she blazed. "His air won’t last many hours. We can wait." "And when he sees he’s been tricked, you think he won’t wreck tliose links? No. Ihere’s no way out” It was as if all his life he had walked on a road which had no turnings, whidi led in- evitably to tills moment. He made some careful calculations from tlie instrument readings, physical constants of tlie asteroid, and used another minute’s maneuvering to assume orbital velocity. Alarm lights blinked angry eyes at him, the converter was heating up. No mote traveling till the links were restored. Bo floated from his diair toward tlie lock. Good-bye, Valeria,” he said, feeling the bloodless weakness of words. "I hope it won’t be for long.” She threw her arms about him and kissed him. The taste of tears was still on his lips when he had dogged down his helmet. Opening the outer valve he moved forth, magnetic boots clamping to tlie hull. A gulf of stars yawned around him, a doudy halo about his head. The stillness was smotlier- ing. When he w.ts "over” tlie asteroid he gauged his position with a practiced eye and jumped free. Falling, he tliought mostly of Valeria. As he landed he looked around. No sign of Lundgard. The man could be anywhere in these square miles of cosmic wreckage. He spoke tentatively into his radio, in case

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20 PLACET STORIES Lundgatii should be within the horizon: "'Hello, are you there?’’ "Yes. I'm coming.” There was a sharp cruel note of laughter. "Sorry to play this dirty, but there are bigger issues at stake than you or me. I've kept a rifle in my tool- tube all the time . . . just in case. Good-bye, Bo.” A slug smashed into tlic pinnacle behind him. Bo turned and ran. VI AS HE rose over the lip of tlic crater, his head swung, seeking his enemy. Tliere! It was almost a reflex which brought his arm back and sent the wrencli hurtling across the few yards between. Before it had struck. Bo's feet lashed against the pit edge, and tlic kick arced him toward Lundgard. Spacemen have to be good at throwing things. The wrench hit the lifted rifle in a soundless shiver of metal, tore it loose from an insecure gauntlctcd grasp and sent it spinning into shadow. Lundgard yelled, spun on his heel, and dove after it. Then tlie flying body of Bo Jonsson strud't him. Even in low-gee, matter has all its inertia. The impact rang and boomed within tlieir armor, they swayed and fell to the ground, locking arms and hammering futilcly at hel- mets. Rolling over, Bo got on top, his hands closed on Lundgard’s throat — where the throat should have been, but plastic and alloy held fast; instinct had betrayed him. Lundgard snarled, doubled his legs and kicked. Bo was sent staggering back. Lund- gard crawled erect and turned to look for the rifle. Bo couldn'fsee it either in the near- solid blackness where no light fell, but his wrench lay as a dark gle.am. He sprang for that, dosed a hand on it, bounced up, and rushed at Lundgard. A swing shocked his own muscles with its force, and Lundgard lurched. Bo moved in on him. Lundgard reached into his tool-tube and drew out his own wrench. He circled, his panting hoarse in Bo’s earphones. "This ... is the way ... it was supposed to be, ” said Bo. He jumped in, his weapon whirling down to shiver again on the other helmet. Lund- gard shook a d.ized head and countered. Tlie impact roared and echoed in Bo’s helmet, on into his skull. He smashed heavily. Lund- gard’s lifted wrench parried the blow, it slid off. Like a fencer, Lundgard snaked his shaft in and the reverberations were deafen- ing. Bo braced himself and smote with all his power. I’lie hit sang back tlirough iron and alloy, into his own bones. Lundgard stag- gered a little, bundled himself and struck in return. They stood with feet braced apart, trading fury, a metal rain on shivering plastic. The stuff was almost unbreakable, but not quite, not for long when such violence dinned on it. Bo felt a lifting wild glee, something s.iiMge he had never known before leaped up in him and he bellowed. He was stronger, he could hit harder. Lundgard’s helmet would break first! The Humanist retreated, using his wrench like a sword, stopping the force of blows without trying to deal more of his own. His left hand fumbled at his side. Bo hardly noticed. He was pushing in, hewing, hew'- ing. Again the shrunken sun rose, to fla.sh hard light off his club. Lundgard grinned, his face barely visible as highlight and shadow bdiind the plastic. His raised tool turned one hit, it slipped along his arm to rap his flank. Bo twisted his arm around, beat the otlier wrench aside for a moment, and landed a cr.ick like a thunderbolt. I'lien Lundgard had his drinking hose free, pointing in his left hand. He thumbed down the clamp, exposing water at fifty de- grees to naked sp.ace. It rushed forth, driven by its own vapor pressure, a stream like a lance in tlie wan sunshine. When it hit Bo’s helmet, most of it boiled off . . . cooling the rest, which froze instantly. Blindness clamped down on Bo. He leai-jed away, cursing, the front of his helmet so frosted he could not see before him. Lundgard bounced around, playing the hose on him. Through the rime-coat. Bo could make out only a grayness. He pawed at it,- trying to wipe it off, knowing that Lundgard was using this cap- tured minute to look for tlie rifle. As he got some of the ice loose, he heard a sharp yell of victory — found!

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OUT OF THE IRON WOMR! Turning,, he ran again. Over that ridge! Down on your belly! A slug pocked the stone above him. Roiling over, he got to his feet and bounded off to- ward a steep rise, still wiping blindness off his helmet. But he could not wipe the bitter vomit taste of defeat out of his mouth. His breathing was a file that raked in his throat. Heart and lungs were ready to tear loose, and there was a cold knot in his guts. Fleeing up the high, ragged slope, he sobbed out his rage at himself and his own stupid- ity. At the top of the hill he threw himself to the ground and looked down again over a low wall of basalt. It was hard to see if any- thing moved down in that valley of night, llien the .sun threw a broken gleam off polished metal, the rifle barrel, and he saw Einar Lundgard walking around, looking for him. The voice came dim in his earphones. "Why don't you give up, Do? I tell you, I don't want to kill you." "Yell." Bo panted wearily. "I’m sure." "Well, you can never tell,” said Lundgard mildly. "It would be rather a nuisance to have to keep not only the fair Valeria, but you, tied up all the w’ay to base. Still, if you'll surrender by the time I've counted ten — ’’ "Look here," said Bo desperately, "I’ve got half the links. If you don’t give up I’ll hammer 'em all flat and let you starve." "And Valeria?" The voice jeered at him. He knew his secret was read. ”1 shouldn’t have let you bluff me in tlie first place. It won’t happen a second time. All right: one, two, three — ’’ Bo could get off this asteroid with no more than the power of his own legs; a few jets from the emergency blow valve at the bottom of an air tank would correct his flight as needed to bring him b.ick to the Sirius. He wanted to get up there; and in- side warm walls, and take Valeria in his hands and never let her go again. He w.inted to live. " — si.v, .seven, eight — ’’ He looked at his gauges. A lot of oxy- hclium mixture was gone from the tanks, but they were big and there was still several atmospheres’ pressure in each. A couple of hours’ life. If he didn’t exert himself too 21 much. They screwed directly imo valves in the back of his armor, and — " — ten. All right. Bo." Lundgard started moving up the slope, light and graceful as a bird. It was wide and open, no place to hide and sneak up behind him. Figures reeled through Bo's mind, senselessly. Mass of the asteroid, effec- tive radius, escape velocity only a few feet per .second, and he was already on one of tlic highest points. Brains! he thought with a shattering sorrow. A lot of good mine have done me! He prepared to back down the otlier side of the hill, run as well as he could, as long as he could, until a bullet splashed his blood or suffocation thickened it. But I want to fight! he thought through a gulp of tears. I want to stand up and fight! Orbital velocity equals escape velocity di- vidc-d by the square root of two. For a moment he lay tliere, rigid, and his eyes stared at death walking up the slope but did not see it. Then, in a crazy blur of motion, he brought his wrench around, closed it on a nut at one side, and turned. "Hie right hand air tank unscrewed easily. He held it in his hands, a three foot cylinder, blind while calculation raced through his head. 'What would the centrifugal and Go- riolis forces be? It was the toughest sort of estimate. He had neither time not data, but — Lundgard w.is taking it easy, stopping to examine each patch of shadow' thrown by some gaunt crag, each meteor scar where a man might hide. It would take him several minutes to teach the hilltop. Bo cluldied the loosened tank in his arms, throwing one leg around it to make sure, and faced aw-ay from Lundgard. He hefted himself, as if his body were a machine he must use. Then, carefully, he jumped off the top of the hill. It was bitdlike, dreamlike, thus to soar noiseless over iron desolation. The sun fell behind him. A spearhead pinnacle clawed after his feet. Ihe Southern Cross flamed in his eyes. Downward — get rid of that downward component of velocity. He twisted the tank, pointing it toward tlie surface, and cautious-

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PLANET STORIES 22 ly opened the blow valve with his free hand. Only a moment’s exliaust, everything gauged by eye. Did he have an orbit now? Ihe ground dropped sharply off to infin- ity, and he saw stars under tlie keel of the world. He was still going out, away. Maybe he had miscalculated his jump, exceeded es- cape velocity after all, and was headed for a long cold spin toward Jupiter. It would take all his compressed air to correct such a mis- take. Sw'eat prickled in his armpits. He locked his teeth and refused to open the valve again. It was like endless falling, but he couldn’t yet be sure if the fall was toward the asteroid or the stars. The rock spun past him. An- other face came into view. Yes, by all idiot gods, its gravity was pulling him around! He skimmed low over the bleakness of it, seeing darkness and starlit deatlj sliding be- neath him. Anotlier crag loomed suddenly in his patli, and he wondered in a harsli clutch of fear if he was going to crash. Tlien it ghosted by, a foot from his flying body. He tliought he could almost sense. tlic cliill of it. He was a moon now', a satellite skimming low above tlie airless surface of his own midget world. Tlie fracture plain where Lundgard had shot at him went by, and he braced himself. Up around the tiny planet, and there was the hill he had left, stark against Sagittarius. He saw Lundgard, stand- ing on its heights and looking tlie way he had gone. Orefully, he aimed tlie tanic and gave himself another small blast to correct his path. There was no noise to betray him, the asteroid was a grave where all sound was long buried and frozen. He flattened, holding his body parallel to the tank in his arms. One hand still gripped the wrench, die otlier reached to open tlie blow vah e wide. The surge almost tore him loose. He had a careening lunatic moment of fliglit in which the roar of escaping gas boiled through his armor and he clung like a troll to a runaway witch’s broom. The sun was blinding on one side of him. He struck Lundgard with an impact of velocity and inertia which sent him spinning down tlie hill. Bo hit the ground, recoiled, and sprang after his enemy. Lundgard was still rolling. As Bo approached, he came to a halt, lifted his rifle dazedly, and had it knocked loose with a single blow of the wrench. Lundgard crawled to his feet while Bo picked up tlie rifle and threw it off tlie a.steroid. "Why did you do tliat?” "I don’t know," said Bo. “I should just shoot you down, but I want you to sur- render." Lundgard drew his wrench. "No," he said. "All right,” said Bo. "It won’t take long.” When he got up to the Sirius, using a tank Lundgard would never need, Valeria had armed lierself with a kitdien knife. "It wouldn’t have done much good," he said when he came through tlie airlock. She fell into his arms, sobbing, and he tried to com- fort her. "It’s all over. All talcen care of. We can go home now." He himself was badly in need of consola- tion. The inquiry on Eartli would clear him, of course, but be would always have to live with the memory of a man stretched dead under a wintery sky. He went aft and re- placed tlie links. When he came back, Valeria had recovered herself, but as she watdied his methodical preparations and listened to what he had to tell, there w’as that in her eyes which he hardly dared believe. Not him. Not a big dumb slob like him.

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ONCE A STARMAN By JOE L HENSLEY The snares of space were incalculable, Lou Argonne learned. Light- ning speeds, immense distances, Stygian blackness, rushing stars, flaming meteors .. .all piled up inexorably to impale frail Earthman on the spears of vivid imagination. And there was no road back. OU docs out here are a funny lot,” Lou Argonne said. The man who sat beside him on the plastic bench was silent for a long mo- ment and Lou thought it was very like the man to take much time to consider before saying anything. Doctor Earl looked up into the gray Martian sky which was visible through the plastic dome that covered the hospital and the hangars for its rocket port. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "On Earth I might make more money, but it would not be tire same. My e.Kistence out here is comfortable and I feel that I am doing sometliing important. Men have to go to the stars, and other men, like myself, have to treat tliem when they ate ill.” 23

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21 PLANET STOUIES Lou £.ivc t!ie doctor a somber look. "John Canar should not have invented tlie light- drive, Doctor Earl. Men weren't meant for the stars — not yet. We’re too young a race. We haven't matured. An Andromedan told me that right before I went, before I . . "Before you went off your head, Lou?" Doctor Earl said, his voice lighter. "Don't try to hide it from yourself, because that's just what happened. You went crazy, to put it in simple words. Now you’ve got to learn to live with it, to know it can happen, just the same as a man with ulcers or diabetes has got to learn to live with that. And don’t bl.ame your trouble on John Canar, or An- drtfmedan philosophy. If Canar hadn’t in- vented the light-drive then someone else would have. And from what I’ve read, the Andromedans don’t tliink Genus Homo good for much of anything." He looked down at his watch and arose brusquely. 'Tve got an appointment. See you tomor- row." After the footsteps had died away Lou looked back up at the sky. There was no feeling now. It looked only cool and gray and clean. Even with night draw'ing on swiftly it did not resemble the blackness of space. But .at first it had. Even the distances across the wide rooms of the hospital had been intolerable and looking out into the flat grayness of the sky had doubled him up, clutching the bed rails for support. They had been kind, all of them, doctors and nurses and other patients. Lou had been surprised how quickly he got over the first feelings now that there was a solidity to cling to; how soon he was able to look out over the flat Martian landscape without that awful vertigo. But he knew that he would never forget those hast few hours out from Mars and the hospital, when he had felt his heart begin to slow toward the final stopping. Strapped down, able to partially know what had hap- pened, with the intravenous feeding bottle gurgling above him. He had hated and cursed John Canar, the light-drive inventor, and every man who had ever gone out into the snare that wa.s space. And feeling the heart, that should have pounded wildly at the fear within him— begin to slow. It had been one of those one-in-a- thousand chances. For a millisecond the ' infallible " screens had gone down on tire last leg of the Andromeda run. Tiny bits of cosmic debris had ripped through tlie ship. Lou. on the bridge, had looked down at his hand in sudden pain. The tip of his riglit index finger was mutilated and a stream of blood jetted out. Other smaller pieces had torn through his body at faster- than-light speeds. He had grabbed at tlie finger and suddenly seen the usually friend- ly stars outside the observation window. ■The fear had come then. Somehow those stars seemed to glare m.alevolcntly at him. He had begun to scream. That was the last he remembered until he came to in the ship’s tiny sickbay. And 'now, here he was, at this great hospital on Mars. IN THE corridors soft light shown down from cunningly concealed apertures in the walls. It gave the illusion of an Earth day, which is what it was meant to do. For the hospital was of Earth, situated out here partly because the very sick could better stand the strain of landing against its le.sser gr.avity. There were other reasons: Earth had little time for its space-injured in these halcyon days of expanding light-drive empire. Lou paused in tlie corridor. Through the blue-glassed window he could see the red basketball that was the sun. How fat away was it? At a million miles a second, low speed for the light-drive, a couple of min- utes. A touch of the old sickness came; he hurried on past the window. It was a phobia — a fancy name. It was a fear of too fast speeds and too immense distances and of the blackness that crushed, and the rushing stars that impaled one on the spears of imagination. It could happen any place. Once, when Lou was younger, and third watch ofticer of a freighter, he had seen an epidemic of it. The atomic motors had broken down and tliey had been sucked irresistibly toward something, probably a dwarf star. The atomics had been fixed, finally, but three men of the crew had lost themselves to the moment of tension. One had cried; all night he had cried. Lou, in the cabin next to the disjiensary, had heard him all of tlie way

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2o ONCE A ST A CM AN back to Mats — and tliat had been many days. No words, only the sobbing that was terrifying in its aloncness. Doctor Earl had told him tliat some recovered and went back out into the holes between the stars. That tliey were better men because they had learned to live with the fear, to rationalize it away. Very few of them had recurrences, he said. But Lou supposed tliat more of them were like Johny, the old man who slept in Lou’s "up " ward and could not go past a window. 'Tlie old man had been here so long that he had become as silent as the smooth machine that was the hospital. He never smiled and he said very little to any- one, though Lou remembered that he had been kind when Lou first came into the ward. But now he had retreated back into the soft shell of silence. Sometimes, at night, Lou would coax the old man into a game of checkers, but it was always a silent, listless game which Lou invariably won. LOU hesitated at the door and then went in. Doctor Earl was waiting for him in the e.vamining room. Lou sat down and took one of the proffered cigarettes. "Lou,” the doctor said seriously, "you have a big decision ahead of you and there are two alternatives that you can take. I’m going to lay them out for you and tell you what chances you can expect for yourself in each one. The decision is up to you, but I will ask you not to make it today — not even if you’re sure. Think about it tonight.” He waved a hand dirough the air. "Take even longer if you want and come and see me when you’ve made up your mind.” Lou leaned back, trying to relax in the soft chair. "First of all you can go back to Earth on company pension,” the doctor explained. "You’ve had our primary treatment. Your body is well and your mind is mended to a limited extent. V'e can dope you up and send you back. Of course we hope you won’t want to go back; however some choose it. W'e find that, as a class, they usually do very well for themselves on Earth and are fairly happy in their choice. But if you go you will never be allowed to go to space again, not even to the moon. ” "V<'hy should I care,” Lou murmured. It was as if the doctor had not heard him. "There is a second choice, which we hope you wdll consider very strongly. You have probably heard about it. You can stay here on Mars and try further treatments. ” His voice was softer. "We have a drug we give.” He broke off and stared at his ciga- rette for a moment and then lifted his eyes to Lou’s.' "Did you ever have a dream and remember something tliat had happened to you before, remember it in detail?” "Almost every night,” Lou said. Tlie doctor moved tlie hand with the cigarette impatiently. "With this drug you will live it again, not just remember. " He leaned back in the chair. "Yesterday you told me that man had not matured enough for space; that we were ahead of ourselves. In a way you are right. Certain phases of our science have not caught up wdth other parts. Psychiatry is one of the undeveloped fields, but we are learning.” On me •you're learning . . . Lou thought. "Because of this,” the doctor droned on, "we were not prepared to deal, when the time came, with traumatic psychoses such as you have. Now', only recently, we h.ive developed a ’half-cure.’ With it there is a chance, not a big one I admit, that you may do better by yourself in that fraction of a second when the screens went down. And there is a chance that you may not do as well.” Ijhe old johny, Lou tliought. That's u hat they did to johny. "You've been a space officer,” the doctor continued. "From your record you were a good one, and Lord knows that it’s hard to get trained personnel enough to keep our ships up. There is another reason, more personal to you; Sometimes space officers arc happy only in space. No amount of money or success that they get on Earth ever makes them happy. Tlie aptitude tests that you took soon after you arrived here indicate that you might be one of these.” "I want to go back to Earth,” Lou said. "I will not listen to a decision from you today,” Doctor Earl said. "Give it some thought, man.” "1 will not change my mind.” For the first time, Lou saw something akin to anger on tlie doctor’s face. "Then

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PLANET STORIES 26 come back and tell me tomorrow,” Doctor Earl said. NX'alking back down the corridor, Lou's mind ran wildly. To return to Earth — a man dreamed of that, dreamed and planned. A house by the sea, in a temperate zone — someplace where the soft ocean waves could sootlie and calm. To do nothing, for noth- ing was necessary. Then a woman and someday children. How long it had been. He had been eighteen when he went into the Academy. Now he was thirty-four and during the al- most thirteen years since graduation he had only touched Earth a few times. But he had dreamed. There was the company pension. It should be enough to allow him to get by very well. If he wanted a job there were plenty open to an ex-spaceman. And yet somehow, even as he decided, there was a moment's doubt. Wliat had that look of anger meant on the doctor's face.’ Some are not happy unless the)' are in space? He went back to the ward. It was empty now', except for Johny. All of the others were at the evening meal. The old man looked up briefly at him and somberly nodded, his eyes saying nothing. Lou nodded back and went on. 'I'hc excite- ment had driven all thoughts of food from his mind. He took his shoes off, propped up his pillow, and lay back agaimst the bed. He was not aware that the old man had come up, so deep was he in tliought. Tlie voice broke through: ''You're going back, eh?" Lou set up straight and looked at the old man. For the first lime he saw sometliing akin to interest in the deep-set eyes. Johny sat on a neighboring bed, hunched over, his w'rinkled, but still strong arms crossed. "Back to Earth, Johny. No more eight on and eight off. Back to a place where you can take two steps w ithout running into a steel bulkhead,” Lou said softly. “You have had enough of space and the worlds out there,” the old man said, his voice unquestioning. "All I ever want.” The old man frowned. "Why did you go into space in the first place?” Lou thought about it for a moment. "Why is a man a policeman, or a doctor, or a lawyer? When I was a kid I wanted to go to the moon more tlian anything else. My folks lived tight outside Kansas City and every night at nine o'clock I could hear the mail rocket go over on its way to Los Angeles.” Lou laughed, suddenly self-con- scious. "It got to the place where I couldn't go to sleep until the mail rocket had gone over. Then, when I was eight years old, Canar invented the light-drive. I was twelve when the first ship left for Vega. I tried to stowaway and got caught.” The old man cut in: "But you did not like it in space?" Lou frowned, searching for an answer. "Yes, I liked it. At least at first I liked it.” "And now' you are afraid?” Lou looked at the old man, saying noth- ing. "You feel that it has turned on you; tlrat something which was your friend is not now so friendly," the old man said. “I know — it w'as that way with me too at first.” 'But not now'? " Lou asked. "Not now," the old man said. He looked down at the floor. "Now there is only the fear left and the longing.” He looked back up ami his eyes closed. "Someday I shall be able to look out that window in the corridor and see the stars. Someday I will ship again. Maybe it will be tomorrow' that I beat it; I take the drug again then. Maybe it will be five years, or ten. But it will be someday, llien I will go back to the place I live." "You mean Earth?” Lou asked. The old man smiled. "A Starman's home is only one place— out there." That night Lou dre.amed he was on a strange planet, lire night was warm, pun- gent with strange smells. A new world, a virgin world, a place for Earth's overcrowd- ed billions. And then, suddenly, there was flame overhead, the white, whistling flame of atomic motors. They were leaving him behind. He stretched out his arms to the white trail above him. Then the ship vras gone. He was alone. He awoke then and it was morning. With a quickening of interest he looked down the ward to where old Johny slept

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27 ONCE A STAUMAN The bed was empty. They must have already come for him. Lou dressed slowly and went to the dining room. The bright lights of the over- head flouresccnts seemed to make the pol- ished metal of the serving counters even more antiseptic in appearance. The food was good, but Lou was not hungry. He overtook the procession on the way back to the ward. It w'as Doctor Earl, two orderlies and a nurse. One of the orderlies was pushing a hooded wheelchair. Lou walked behind them to the ward. They helped the old man out of the chair as Lou watched. Johny's eyes were shut tightly and the thin, old body trembled as he lay on the bed. Lou felt a sudden wave of anger surge within him as the orderlies and the nurse picked at the old man, coveting him, ad- justing the bed. He touched Doctor Earl's arm as the man came past. "How many times before you give up?” The doctor looked somberly at him. "When he does," he said, and pulled his arm away .and walked out of the ward. LOU packed his gear that afternoon. The interview with Doctor Earl had been very calm and emotionless. The man had not asked him to reconsider again. Now there were only the few days of waiting. He spent them idly. He read a few books from the hospital’s immense library and in the afternoons he swam in tlie heated pa- tients’ pool. Now that tlie decision was finally made he felt a torpor, as if some- thing important had been lost and yet the loss was not of a value tliat could be con- sidered and regained. Several times he tried to talk to Johny, but the old man was either asleep or pre- tended to be when Lou came back to the w'ard. It was not until tlie night before Lou was to leave that he caught the old man awake. He went back and sat down on an empty bed next to the old man’s. Johny's face was emotionless now. Only his eyes showed the feat. "I’m going back tomorrow, Johny," Lou said. "Good luck to you.” "It’s funny, but 1 don’t know your last name, ” Lou said softly. "I’d like to write you after 1 get back and see if — well you know.” "Don’t write,” Johny said stolidly. '"Tou woti’t anyway. Once you get out of here you’ll want to forget everylliing about it. Besides, 1 never read my mail anymore." "I’ll take a chance,” Ixiu said, smiling. "All tight,” the old man sighed. "It s Canat — John R. Canat.” For a moment the name made no connec- tion in Lou’s brain . . , "John Omar, ” he said. "You invented the light-drive.” "I had to do with it — it bears my name,” Johny said. "I tried to stow away on your ship when you went to ’Vega,” Lou said softly. "You must have m.ade a lot of money out of the drive. 1 thought you had retired.” The old man looked up at him for an instant, a shadow of expression passing across his face. "I didn’t w'ork on it for money. I wanted to go to the stars.” He looked pointedly at Lou. "And now I want to go to sleep.” Lou got up and moved away, feeling mildly hurt and resentful. Three times that night he dreamed the dream. Once it began in the Andromedan system. There was a feeling of unfamiliar, and yet familiar constellations in the sky. There was tlrat moment of half-beauty, half-fear that comes to every man who has ever seen a world that is not his own, and yet, in a peculiar way, has exerted owner- ship over that strange world. There were dim remembered twilights under double suns. And always there was that moment in time when tlie screens had gone down, th.at moment of complete fear. Each time Lou awakened in a cold sweat only to drift restlessly oif into sleep again. The second time was worse for it began on Earth. It was a memory of things past, rockets overhead, soft fields of midwestern grain beneath his feet. The dream skipped portions of his life away, like stones across a millpond, only touching the fluid surface, vet rippling it. Once again it built into a crescendo that ended only in final bl.uk- out . . . when the Kreens went down. 1116 third time he was on the moon, pressure-suited, alone. In the distance a

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PLANET STORIES 28 space ship blotted out a portion of the horizon and he was walking toward it. It was a long walk. Then there were the shining insides of the ship, still fascinating, though not as mysterious as they had been on tlie first trip — flight — and then the screens went down. This time he did better. There was still the feeling of surprise when he saw the blood tunning down his hand and the stars still smirked at him from outside. But his hands had reached up, with only a slight tremble, for the controls. He awoke again witli a vague feeling of disquietude. It was morning. He went to the dining room for his last meal. He ate. He went back to tlie ward. His tilings had already been picked up and sent out to the ship. An hour later he was walking woodenly up the ramp of the ship tliat would carry’ him back. He stopped and stood there for a moment, looking up into the gaping hatch. Someone motioned to him impatiently from it. He turned away and began to run. He did not stop until he came to the pneumo- tube and set its control for the hospital. His hands worked feverishly at the knobs as he w'arily watched for a sign of pursuit from the ship outside. None came. Doctor earl said: "I knew you’d be back." He looked at Lou contempla- tively. "You asked me once why I was out here. Now I can tell you. I’ve treated almost a tliousand men like you in ten years — men who had space phobia. Maybe two-thirds of tliose men told me they would choose to go back to Earth. A few of them, m.aybe fifty, did go back, but most were like you. Even John Canar got to the ship before he changed his mind. That was tlie first time he had to make the choice, a long time ago. He knows now." “Knows wluit. Doc?" Lou asked softly. Doctor Earl twisted in his chair, search- ing, it seemed to Lou, for the right words. “Knows that he is different,’’ he said finally. "Maybe not better, but different than tlie average man. You live half of your life out there in the stars and it changes you. You are not an Earthman anymore, you’re a Starman." "When do I take the drug. Doc?" Lou asked. Doctor Earl studied him and then smiled. “I think I can tell you, Lou. You’ve had tlie drug. Sometimes we don't tell tlicm." 'T don’t understand. Doc.” "You’ve had a thousand do.ses of it; in every meal, in every drink of water, from the first day you arrived here." "But Johny?" "Light doses didn’t work for him; he’s built up an immunity to anything but mas- sive doses given intravenously." The doctor shifted in his chair. "Tliere are a million- million planets out there available to us through the light-drive. We’ve got maybe a million men in space. Earth bases her economy on those men. We're out of tlie shell — hatclied — and we can’t go back again. A Starman is Earth’s most valuable asset. So you see we couldn’t let your phobia dictate your choice for you. You had to be given the drug and a chance to make a rational choice without the inhibition of the phobia." He smiled. "What have you been dreaming of?" "I see what you mean," Lou said. “All I’ve dreamed of since I came here are the stars." He thought for a moment. "What if I’d gotten aboard that ship?” “You woud have gone back to Earth. We wouldn't have stopped you. The drug only makes your choice more rational by letting you* see your fear over again for what it is." Lou stood up. "Thank you. Doctor. Now Td like to go back to the ward and see someone." "Johny?” "Yes," Lou said. "I want to tell him Tm going home."

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IMAGE OF SPLENDOR By LU KELLA from Venus fo Earth, and all the way between, it was a hell of a world for men . . . and Apprentice Burnerman O'Rielly particularly. The inteaom roared fit to blow O'Rielly back to Venus. "Burner Four!’ "On my way, sir!" At the first flash of red on the bank of meters Apprentice Burnerman O'Rielly had slammed the safety helmet on his head; he was already throwing open the lock to the burner room. The hot, throbbing rumble whipped around him and near crushed his breath away. Power! Power of the universe trapped here and ready to destroy its captors given one chance! Swdftly O'Rielly unlocked the controls and reset them. Tlic throbbing rumble changed tone. Old Calhilian's voice crackled now through the helmet’s ear contact. "Well, Mr. O’Rielly.’” "Fusion control tw'o points low, sir." O'Rielly wondered had Callalian passed out, was so long before the old Burner Chief demanded hoarsely, "Didn’t you lock them controls before blast-off?” "If every control hadn’t been locked in correct setting, " O’Rielly answered from his own angry bewilderment, "the error would have registered before blast-off — wouldn’t it, sir?" "So a control reset itself in flight, hey?” "I don’t know yet, sir.” "Well, Mr. O’Rielly, you better know before we orbit Earth! ’ The icy knot in O’Riclly's stomach jerked tighter. A dozen burners on this ship; why did something crazy have to happen to O’Rielly 's? In a hundred years, so tire in- structors— brisk females all — had told O'Rielly in pre-flight school, no control had ever been known to slip. But one had moved here. Not enough to cause serious trouble this far out from Earth. On blast-down. though, with one jet below peak, the uneven thru.st could throw the ship, crash it, the whole lovely thing and all aboard gone in a churning cloud. Sweat pouring off him, O’Rielly prowled around his burner. Design of the thing had been bossed by dames of course; w hat on Earth wasn’t any more? Anyway, nobody could get to a burner except through its wcitch room. Anyone entered or left there, a bell clanged, lights flashed and a meter registered beside the Burnerman’s bunk and on the Burner Chief’s console up in the flight room full of beautifully efficient offi- cers. Ever,since Venus blast-off O’Rielly had been in Four’s watcli room. Nobody had passed through. O’Rielly knew it. Callahan knew it. By now the Old Woman herself. Captain Millicent Hatwoody, had probably inquired what was in charge of Burner Four. Well, ma'am, O’Rielly searched every cranny where even a three-tailed mouse of "V'enus could have stowed away. His first flight, and O’Rielly saw himself washed out, busted to sweeper on the blast-off stands of some God-forsaken satellite. FIc staggered back into his watch room. And his brain was suddenly taken apart and slapped together again. Felt that way. She was sitting on his bunk. No three- tailed mouse. No Old Woman cither. Olg she was a female human, though, this crea- ture at which O’Rielly stood gaping. Yes, ma’am! "I was in your burner room.” Her voire matched the test of her, a blend of loveli- ness unlike anything outside a guy’s most secret dreams. "I couldn’t stand the heat any longer and I couldn’t open that big door. So I moved one of your controls a 29

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30 VL.XyET STORIES tiny bit. All the noise in there, naturally you couldn’t hear me walk out while your back was turned resetting the control.” O'RIIiLLY suddenly felt like turning her over his knee and whaling her until she couldn’t sit for a year. This, mind you, he felt in an age where no Tarth guy for a thousand years had dared raise so mucli as a breath against woman’s supremacy in all m.attcrs. That male character trait, how- ever, did not seem to be the overpowering reason why O’Riclly, instead of laying vio- lent hands upon this one’s person, heard himself saying in sympathetic outrage, "A shame you had to go to all that bother to get out here!” "You’re so kind. But Tm afraid I became rather sticky and smelly in there.” "They ought to cool the air in there with perfumel I’ll drop a suggestion in the Old Woman s box first chance I get.” "You’re so thoughtful. And do you have bathing facilities?” "That door right there. Oh, let me open it for you! ” "You’re so sweet.” Her big dark q'es glowed with such pure innocence tliat O’Rieiiy could have torn down tlie universe and rebuilt it just for her. Yes, ma’am, O’Rieiiy was floating on a pink cloud witli heavenly music in his head. Never felt so fine before. Except on the Venus layover w hen he’d been roped into a dice game with a bunch of Venus lads who had a jug to cheer one’s parting with one’s money. A bell suddenly clanged fit to wake the daad while the overhead lights flashed wildlv. Only the watch room door. Only Callalian here now. Old buxzard had a drooiacd no.se like a pick, chin like a shovel. When lie talked he was like digging a hole in front of himself. "Well, wh.at about that control?” "What control?” "Your fusion control that got itself two points low!” "Oh, that little thing.” Callalxan said something through his teeth, then studied O’Rieiiy sharply. "Hey, you been wetting your whistle on that Venus vino again? Lemme smell your breath! Bah. Loaded yourself full of chloro- phyll again probably. All riglit, stand aside whilst I see your burner.” "Charmed to, Burner Chief Callalian, sir,” O’Rieiiy said while bowing gracefuEy. "Higher than a sw'acked skunk’s tail again,” Callahan muttered, then snapped back over his shoulder, "Use your shower!” O’Uielly stood considering his shower door. Somehow he doubted that Burner Chief Terrence Callahan’s mood, or Captain Millicent Hatwoody’s, would be improved by knowledge of she who was in O’RieUy’s shower now. Not that the dear stowaway was less than chamiing. Quite the contrary. Oh, very cjuite! "You rockhead!” Only Callalian back from the burner. "Didn’t I tell you to shower the stink off yourself? Old Woman’s taking a Venus bigwig on tout the ship. Old Woman catches you like you been rassling skunks she’ll peel both our hides off. Not to mention what she’ll do anyway about your fusion control!” "Burnet Chief Callahan, sir," O’Rieiiy responded courteously, "I have been think- ing.” "With what? Never mind, just kcq> on trying w'hilst I have a shower for myself here.” Wherewith Callahan reached hand for O’Rielly’s sliowet door. "Venus dames,” O’Rieiiy said dreamily, "don’t boss anything, do they?” Callalian yelped like he’d been bit in the pants by a big Jupiter ant. "O’Rieiiy! You trying to get both of us condemned to a Uranus moon?” Callahan also shot a wild look to the Intercom switch. It was in OFF position; the flight room full of fancy gold- lace petticoats could not have overheard from here. Nevertheless Callahan’s eyes tolled like Eie devil was behind him witli the fork ready. "O’Rieiiy, open your big ears whilst for your own good and mine I speak of certain matters. "Thousand years ago, it was, the first flight reached Venus. Guys got one look at them dames. Had to bring some home or bust. So then everybody on Earth got a look, mostly by ’TV only of course. That did it. Every guy on Earth began blowing his fuse over tlicm dames. Give up the shirt off his back, last buck in the bank, his own Earth dame or family — everything. “Well, Eiat’s when Earth dames took

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32 PLAXET STORIES over like armies of wild cats with knots in their tails. Before the guys who'd brouglit the Venus dames to Earth could say any- thing they was taken apart too small to pick up witii a blotter. Earth dames wounef up by flying the Venus ones back where tliey come from and serving notice if one ever set foot on Earth again there wouldn’t be enough left of Venus to find with an elec- tron microscope. <<T7ENUS boys rared up and served no- V tice that if Earth ever got any funny notions, right away there wouldn’t be enough Earth left to hide in an atom’s eye- brow. Touchy as hornets on a hot griddle, tliem Venus guys. Crazier than bed bugs about war. Could smell a loose dollar a million light years away too. Einagled around until they finally cooked up a deal. "No Venus dames allowed within fifty miles of their port. Earth guys stay inside the high-voltage fence. Any dame caught trying to leave Venus thrown to the tigers for supper. Same for any Earth guy caught around a Venus dame. In return. Earth could buy practically everything at bargain basement prices." "Oh, I was shown the history films in pre-flight," O’Rielly said, still dreamily. "But not a peek of any Venus dame." "Vray heaven you’ll never lay eyes on one nor have one get within ten foot of you! Even though you’d know she’d be your damnation wouldn’t make a whit difference • — you’d still act sappier than thirty-seven angels flying on vino." Callahan suddenly stared at O’Riclly. "Holy hollering saints!" "Now, now. Burner Chief Callahan, sir,” O’Rielly responded with an airy laugh. "No Earth guy for a hundred twenty-five years been near one and lived to tell it, has he.^’’ "So the whispers run," Callalian mur- mured with a queer flame dancing into his eyes. "So the old whispers still run." "Never a name, though. Never how it was done." O’Rielly snorted. "Probably just a goofy tale set loose by some old space bum.” "Oh?" Callalian bristled up like a bad name had been bandied about. "Seen them ditty bags Venus bigwigs have, ain’t you? Some big enough to stuff a cow in. Notice how nobody ever dares question a big- wig’s bags, even through customs? Just run ’em through the big Geiger that tells whether there’s any fusion.ible junk inside. Well, our boy got him.self one of them bags, stuffed himself inside and joined a bigwig’s pile of ’em. "Didn’t pull it whilst on the Venus port during a layover either, when a crew check would of turned him up missing. Pulled it on vacation. Started on the Earth end. Made himself a pair of beards to paste on his ears of course. Wove Jupiter wiggle worms in to keep the beards moving. Wasn’t like the teal thing, but good enou^i to flimflam Venus guys." With suddenly enlivened interest O’Rielly looked at Callahan. "Hey, how come you know so much?" "Hah? What?" Callahan blinked like waking from a trance; even groaned to himself, something^ that sounded like, "Blabbering like I’d had a nip myself - or one of them dillies was radiating nearb Then Callahan glared fit to drill holes in O’Rielly’s head. "Look! 1 was a full Burner- man before you was born. Been flying tlie spaces hundred twenty-five years now. Had mote chances to heat more — just heat mote, you hear! Only tried to clear your mind about Venus dames so you could put your brain on your control mess. So now put it! If you ain’t high on vino and ain’t been made nuts by a "Venus dame, what answer do we feed the Old Woman?” "Search me," Apprentice Burnerman O’Rielly responded cheerfully. "Of all the loony apprentices I ever had to answer the Old Woman for! Awp, Icmmc out where I can think of something to save me own neck at least!" Was all O’Riclly could do to keep from rolling on the deck with glee. Old Callalian had been flimflammed for fair! The dear little stowaway was s.ivcd! And O’Rielly would now think of grand ways to save her lovely neck and his own forever. O’Rielly’s shower door, however, opened abruptly. O’Rielly had not opened it. O’Rielly, however, suffered a cruel stab of dismay. Surely his dear stowaway had been listening through the door. Why didn't site have brains enough to stay hid until Cal- lahan was gone! At sight of her, of course, Callahan’s

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IMAGE OF SPLEXnOR eyes near popped from his old head. "Berta!" "Oh, I’m Trillium,” she assured Callahan sweetly. "But Grandmamma’s name is Berta and people say I’m just like she was a hundred and twenty-five years ago." «TTAH? W'bat?" Callahan blinked like J--*- his brain had been taken apart and was being slapped together again. "O’Riclly! Awp, you angel-faced pirate, couldn’t you hide her somewheres better than that? Shut up, you don’t have to explain to me, but God help the whole universe if we don’t flimflam the Old XX'oman!" With which ominous remark, rendered in a zesty devil- may-care manner, however, Callalian tlirew himself into O’Rielly’s shower. O'Rielly stood looking thoughtfully at lovely, womanly, exquisite Trillium. Just like that, O’Rielly felt as sparkling of mind as a spiral nebula. "My locker!” he crowed with inspiration and yanked open tlie doors under his bunk. He glimpsed a black ditty bag, also the cap and coverall uniform of a baggage boy. "I threw them in there before you came on duty Irefore blast-off, " Trillium ex- lained. "I knew the burner room would e warm.” Trillium — with her shape — passing as a boy hustling bags through this ship. O'Rielly chortled as he tucked her under his bunk. "Now’ don’t you worry about another thing!” "Oh, I’m not,” she assured him happily. "Everjthing is going jicst the way Grand- mamma knew it would!” O’Rielly’s shower opened and Callalian, glowing like a young bucko, bounced onto die bunk. "Well, did you hide her good tliis time?. No, don't tell me! I want to be surprised if the Old Woman ever finds her.” "If what old woman finds whom?” a voice like thin ice crackling wanted to know. The watch room’s door had opened. Wouldn’t think the Old Woman was a day over seventy-five, let alone near two hun- dred. Cut of her uniform probably lent a helping hand or three to the young snap of her figure. Frosty blue of fancy hair-do, she was, though, and icy of eye as she % — Planet — Sommer 33 looked .at O'Rielly and Callahan still loll- ing on the bunk. Her voice was an iceberg exploding. "At attention!” Never in his right mind would any crewman dare fail to come stiffly erect the instant the Old ^X'onlan appeared. Behind her stood a colorfully robed specimen of Venus man. Handsome as the devil himself. Fit to snap lesser men in two with his high- ly bejeweled h.ands. Fuzzy beards trailed from his ears and kept twitching lazily as he sneered at the spectacle of two men meekly acknowledging the superiority of a woman. She was fit to put frost on a hydrogen burner. "Mr. Callahan, I asked you a ques- tion, did I not?” "Believe you did, ma’am," Callahan re- sponded cheerfully. "And tlie answer is, ma’am, tliat Aj^rentice Burnerman O’Rielly and me was discussing — ah — matrimony, ma’am. Mr. Apprentice Burnerman O'Rielly here is considering it, ma’am.” Wasn’t too bad a fib. The more O’Rielly thought of Trillium, tlie more ideas he got of doing things he’d never dreamt of be- fore in his life. Yes, ma’am! "Wasting your time talking nonsense!" Old XComan’s look was fit to freeze O’Riclly’s brain, then she gave Callahan tlie look. "I sent you down here to find the answer to that fusion control slippage!” "Oh, you’ll have the best answer you ever heard of before long, ma’am!" Callahan assured her heartily. "The subject of non- sense— I mean, women — merely chanced to arise whilst we was scientifically analyzing the control phenomenon, ma’am. Naturally I offered this innocent young Burnerman the benefit of me long years of experience. VC'hy,” Callalian said with a jaunty laugh, "dames mean nothing to me. Indeed twouldn’t bother me none if there wasn't one of the things left in tlie world! Present company excepted, of course,” Callahan hastened to say with a courtly bow. "Stay at attention!” Old Woman sniffed the air near Callahan’s face, then in O'Rielly’s vicinity. "Smotliered it with chlorophyll proKably,” she muttered tlirougli her teeth, "if it is that vino.” Some- thing horrible as a plague flickered in her ej’cs, then the old ice was there aeam, "Ap-

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PLANET STORIES Zl prentice Buraerman, don't you know what your sliower is for? Tlien use it! Mr. Cal- iali.in, remain at attention ivliilc I inspect tliis burner!” She tendered a cool glance at the Venus bigwig. "Care to join me. Your Excellency?” "M.ay as well.” His E.xcellency glanced at O'Riclly and Callahan much as he might at a couple of worms. Could bet your last old sox no female ever told any Venus man what to do. Idle shower units were equipped so no Burnerman need be more than two steps from his responsibility. To keep the Old Woman from possibly blowing her gaskets completely, O'Rielly simply stepped in, shut the door, flipp^ a switch and tingled as he was electronically cleansed of person and clotlies. By time he finished, the Old Woman and His Excellency were already coming out of the burner room, dripping with sweat. Old Woman opened the shower with her customary cornmanding air. "You first. Your Excellenq’." "My dear Captain,” His Excellency re- plied like a smoothly drawn dagger, "al- ways the lesser gender enjoys precedence.” No Earth dame es'er admitted any guy was even equal to any female. Old Woman, a prime symbol of her gender's superiority, whipped a razor edge onto her own words. "Facilities of the Captain's quarters are more satisfactory.” "No more so than those of the Ambassa- dorial Suite.” SEEMING to grind her teeth, the Old Woman turned abmptly to leave O'Rielly’s watch room. Was all O'Rielly could do to keep from busting out laughing for joy. Old Woman had been flimfiammed for fair! Dear Trillium was saved! And betwixt O'Rielly’s grand brain and Calla- han’s great experience she’d be happy for- ever. A fine loud "thump," hosvever, was now heard. Old Woman whirled back and yanked open tire doors under O’Rielly’s bunk. "Of all the sappy hiding places!" Cal- lahan yelped, in surprise of course. "Tiilliura?” His Excellency bellowed as if stung by one of the sabre-tailed hornets of his native planet. "Trillium!” "Trillium,” O’Rielly pleaded in loving anguish, "why do you have to keep coming out of hiding just when nobody’s going to find you?” Her eyes merely became deep pools in whicli O’Rielly would have gladly drowned himself if he could. "There are rewards," the Old Woman said with the deadly coldness of outer space, "for Earthmen found in a Venus woman’s company, and for her leaving her planet." "Shut up!" His E.xcellency’s ear beards were stanefing straight out sidew'ays. "I'll handle this!" "May I remind His Excellency,” tlic Old Woman snapped, "th.at I represent Earth and her dominion of space gained by right of original flight!” "May I remind the Captain," His Excel- lency declared fit to be heard back to his planet, "tliat I am the Personal Ambassador of the President of Venus and tliis thing can mean war!” "Yes! War in which people will actually die!” As His Excellency paled at that grisly remark, the Old Woman spoke through her teeth at O’Rielly, Callahan and Trillium. "All right, come along!” O’Rielly joined the death march gladly. He felt the w.iy Callahan looked: ready to wrap his arms around Trillium’s brave loveliness and protect it to his last breath of life. Old Woman led the way to her office. Jabbed some buttons on her desk. Panels on opposite walls lit up. "Presidents of Earth and Venus, please," the Old Woman stated evenly. "Interplane- tary emergency.” Highly groomed flunkies appeared on the panels and were impersonally pleasant. "Madame President’s office. She is in a Cabinet meeting.” "Mr. President 5 office. He is in personal command of our glorious war efforts." Old Woman sighed through her teeth. "Venus woman aboard this ship. Stowaway. Rattle that around your belfries." The flunkies’ faces went slack with shock, then were replaced by a blizzard of scram- bled faces and torrents of incoherent voices. Finally on the Earth panel appeared the

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IMAGE OF SPLENDOR famous classic features. “The facts, if you please, Optain Hataoody.” The Venus pane! finally held steady on universally notorious features tliat were as fierce as an eagle’s, in a fancy war helmet. "Trillium! My own granddaughter? Im- possible! Dimdooly,” Mr. President roared at his Excellency, “what’s tliis nonsense?” "Some loud creature is interfering,” Madame President snapped with annoyance. "Blasted fools still have the circuits crossed," Mr. President swore. "Some silly female cackling now!” Tlie parties in the panels saw each other now\ Each one’s left hand on a desk moved toward a big red button marked, ROCKETS. "So,” Mr. President said evenly. "An- other violation by your Earthmen.” "By your granddaughter, at least,” Ma- dame President replied coolly. "An innocent child,” Mr. President snapped, "obviously kidnapped by those two idiotic Earthmen there!” "Oh, no. Grandpapa,” Trillium said swiftly; "I stole away all by myself, and Mr. O'Rielly and Callahan have been very helpful.” "Impossible!” Grandpapa President’s ear beards stood near straight up as he roared, "You couldn’t have stolen away by yourself! Trillium, tell the truth!” "Very well. Grandmamma told me how.” “PjBVIOUSLY Trillium’s poor little brain has been dmgged,” His Excel- lency Dimdooly declared. "Grandmamma Berta wouldn't know the first thing about such things!" "Impossible!” Grandpapa President agreed. ’Tve been married to her for a hundred and twenty-four and a half years and she’s the finest rattle-brain I ever knew!” "She learned," Trillium stated emphati- cally, "a hundred and twenty-five years ago.” "Hundred twenty-five," Grandpapa president growled Hire a boiling volcano. *"nie year some E.irthman. . . . Never did catch the devil. . . . Berta? Impossible!" Madame President’s shapely finger now tested full on the button that could launch the fleets of war rockets th.at had been pte-aimed for a thousand years. "I'm afraid your Ambassador is unwelcome now,” Ma- 35 dame President stated coolly. "Your grand- daughter's actions have every mark of an invasion tactic by your government.” '"What do you mean, her actions?” Grandpapa President’s finger now lay poised on the button that had been waiting a thou- sand years to blow Earth out of the universe. "My grandchild was kidnapped by men under your official command! Weren't you, Trillium dear?" "No. One of us stowing away was the only way we Venus women could bring our cause to the attention of Earth’s President. If Earth will only stop buying from \’enus, you won’t have any money to squander on your wars any longer no matter what hap- pens to we revolutionaries!" "Revolutionaries? Such claptrap! And what’s wrong with my wars? People have to have something to keep tlieir minds off their troubles! Nobody around here gets hurt. Oh, maybe a few scratches here and there. But nobody on Venus dies from the things any mote.” "But Venus men are so excited all the time about going to war they haven’t time for us women. 'Tliat’s why we always radi- ated such a fatal attraction for Earthmen. We want to be loved! We want our own men home doing useful work!” "Well, they do come home and do useful work! Couple weeks every ten months. Proven to be a highly efficient arrange- ment.” "More boys to run off to your old wars and mote girls to stay home and be lonely!” "Now you just listen to me, Trillium!” Grandpapa President was all Venus man- hood laying down the law. "Tliat’s the way things have been on Venus for ten thou- sand years and all tlie women in the uni- verse can't clrange it!” "I have been in constant contact with my Cabinet during these conversations,” Ma- dame President said crisply. "Earth is ter- minating all trade agreements witli Venus as of this instant.” "VCffiat?” Grandpapa’s beards near pulled his ears off. "It’s not legal! You can’t get away with this!” '"I’ake your finger off that trigger, boy!” a heavenly voice similar to Trillium’s ad- vised from tlie Venus panel. Whereupon Grandpapa glared to one

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PLACET STORIES nr. siJc. "Bcru! What are you doing here? 1 am deciding matters of the gravest inter- planetary nature!” "Were.” Features more beautifully ma- ture than Trillium’s crowded onto the panel too. "From now on Fm doing the decid- "Nonsense! You're only my w ife!” "And new President of Venus, elected by unanimous vote of all women." "Impossible! The men run Venus! No- borly's turning this planet into another Fiarth w here a man can’t even sneeze unless some woman says so!” "Ta!;e him away, girls," Berta ordered coolly, whereupon her spouse was yanked from view. His bellows, however, could be heard yet. "L’nhand me, you fool creatures! Guards! Guards!” "Save your breath,” Berta advised him. "And while you’re in the cooler, enjoy this latest batch of surrender communiques. 'JC'c women are in control everywhere now.” "Dimmy,” Trillium was saying firmly to lli.s Fxcellenc}', "you have beat around the bush With me long enough. Now say it!" DIMDOOLY — the mighty, the lordly, who had sneered at the sight of mere Farthmen kowtowing to a mere woman — swelled up lit to blow his gaskets, then all the gas went out of him. His car beards, however, still had enough zip left to flutter like butterflies. "Yes, Trilliu.m dear, t love only you. Please marry me at your earliest convenience.” "Well, Grandmamma," Trillium said with a highly self-satisfied air, "it works. And just like you said, Earthmcn meant nothing once I knew we Venus w omen had our own men in our power.” "Those crewmen there,” Grandmamma President said, "seem to be proof enough that we Venus women no longer radiate any threat to Earth’s tnanquility.” Yes, ma’am, O'Rielly sure felt like proof of something all of a sudden. -Worse than the liangovcr from tliat crap game with Venus vino. He looked away from Trillium and took a look at Callahan. Old guy looked away from Grandmamma President like he was packing tlie second biggest headache in history. "Hmmmm, yes,” Madame President of Earth observed. "Reactions agree perfectly with tlie psydioanalytical research project we have been conducting on the subject of the Venus female influence. Madame Presi- dent of Venus, congratulations on your vic- tory! "Long may the superior sex reign on Venus too! We shall be delighted to receive an Ambassadoress to discuss a new trade treaty at your earliest convenience.” '"iliank you for cancelling the old trade agreements at the psychological moment, ” Grandmamma President said cordially. "What with tire communications mixup, we managed to have the scenes on these panels broadcast throughout all Venus. When the run went out from under the top man, tlie tide really turned in our favor. Now, Tril- lium, you take over Dimmy ’s credentials.” ’"The Ambassadorial Suite, too,” Ma- dame President of Earth said graciously. "Anything else now, Berta?" "I should like,” Grandmamma President Berta said charmingly, "tliat Mr. O’Rielly and Mr. Callahan be suitably rewarded for assisting our revolution better than they knew.” "Of course, " Madame President of Earth was delighted to oblige. "No doubt Captain Hatwoody knows what reward would satisfy tl'.cir needs best.” Tlie Madame Presidents switched to a private circuit, Trillium dragged Dinidooly off somewhere and the Old Woman eyed O'Rielly and Callahan. Especially she eyed Callahan, like running chilled drills through his old conniving brain. "1 award the pair of you five minutes leisure before returning to your stations." "Oh, well,” O'Rielly muttered, once he and Callahan were safely beyond earshot, "could have been rewarded worse, I sup- pose.” "What you expect for being flimflamnied by a foreign dame, the rings of Saturn? Lucky we ain’t programmed to be hung, shot and thrown to the crows for breakfast.” Callahan’s old pick-and-sb.ovel face wore a little grin like the cat that nobody could prove ate the canary. "You — I mean, that Earth guy a hundred twenty-five years ago,” O’Rielly said in sudden thought. "If Venus dames wanted

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WAGE OF SPLEXDOR to be loved so bad, why did Trillium's Grandmamma let him go?" "Venus guys wasn’t so busy playing war all the time," Callahan mumbled, like to himself, "they’d of found out tlie answer - centuries ago. Yep, guess our boy was the only guy on Earth or Venus to find out and live. Dames bossing both planets now, though, his old secret won’t be one much longer. Venus dames could of let it out centuries ago themselves but didn't, just to spite Earth probably. Later, was part of organizing to take over Venus, I guess.” O’Rielly still had memories of the way ’ he had felt al)0ut Trillium before her revo- lution. "All right, Callahan, why did 'our boy’ leave Grandmamma?" 37 "Yes, rru’am,” Callalian sighed like he hadn’t heard a word O'Rielly said, "you could sweet-talk ’em, kiss ’em and hold ’em tighter’n Billy-bc-damned. And that’s all.” "I'm not sure,” O’Rielly said, "what you mean by, 'that’s all.’ ” "Anybody ever seen anybody but a Venus guy come built with ear beards? Course no'-. ” "But I thought our boy was wearing the best fakes ever.” "Ain’t notiling can match the natural growed-on variety, no, ma’am. Venus guy kisses a Venus dame, his beards grabs her roundst the eats.” "So what?” "Tickles ’em, boy, tickles ’em!”

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THE BRIDES OF OOL By M. A. CUMMINGS The Goddess of Love had never showered Ool with her favors^ He was the saddest lover this side of lo . . . either that, or the most skillful lady killer since the invention of Gilk’s death-ray. AS THE soft tones of the moniing gong ZA sounded through the cabin Ool yawned and stretched. Then he grinned, remeinbering. Ihis was the first morning of his honeymoon. Of course, honeymoons were even more out-of-date than marriage services. But Loris had wanted both and Ool was willing to let her have her way. Funny to think tliat after ail this time Loris was really his. His hand caressed the form lying beside him, tlie flesh smooth and cold as marble. Coldl He sat up suddenly, slaring at the girl. The pearly lustre of her skin had faded to a chalky white, and he could see no sign of breathing. Frantically he felt for a heartbeat. There was none. Loris — his beautiful Loris, was dead. As tile lights glowed on the board, the young Watcher forgot discipline, even for- got the inter-office video. Stumbling into tlie captain's office, he shouted, "It's Commander Ool. He’s requesting permission to land — " he gulped, came to attention, "sir." The captain was equally startled. But years of training helped him to keep control. "Wonder where he’s been all this time. No report from him in weelcs. Permission granted. And tell him to report up here at once. The Old Men will want to hear about this. I wouldn’t want to be in his boots." "If I'd been gone tliis long I wouldn’t have bothered to come back,” the Watclier said. “They’d have found him sooner or later. He couldn’t stay up forever," the captain US said. "Better get tliose signals out." And tlie young Watdier went back to his post, shaking his head over anyone foolish enough to anger the Old Men, while tlie captain put tlirough a call to Committee headquarters. Between the frequent tests and long pe- riods of questioning, Ool was also wonder- ing where he had been. Two weeks gone out of his life without the slightest glim- mer of a memory about them. Two weeks of floating in space. Had Loris been dead all the time? Or had she died while he lay unconscious? Had he — could he have killed her without knowing it? Furiously Ool tried to assemble his tlioughts, to force his tired brain back over all that had happened, trying to find some e.vplanation. Lie could remember perfectly except for the last two weeks. The Invasion — which had threatened to wipe out Civilization. ■Vlffien, in the last desperate moments, tlie untested Gilkite rays had been used, and like an invisible screen, had held off the foe. How he alone had stood for hours at the machines, after Gilk, the frogiike Martian inventor had run from tlie scene, howling witli terror. The aowds claiming him as the hero of the hour, screaming for the sight of him. Then the meeting with Loris — Loris of the silver hair, tlie long slim body which gleamed like pearl, the husky voice. It had been a straggle to get the Old Men to grant them permission to mate, for Loris was a 'Venusian and not at all the proper sort of mate for a Warrior. But with tlie success of Gilkite, there might be no more need for Warriors — so permis- sion w as granted. And now Loris was dead.

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10 PLACET STORIES Once more Ool wis summoned before the committee. , "Tlie committee agrees," said tlie Oldest Man, "that you could not have been re- sponsible for the death of your mate." “The Gilkite — " Ool began. "Only Gilk knows positively what to ex[icct from it, and he cannot be found. However, out scientists have given you every known test. And believe me, Captain, if there were the slightest suspicion in the minds of any one of them, the order would have been given for your immediate de- struction. We would take no chances on your being a carrier of death rays.” "And Loris?” "You will remember tliat the committee opposed this mating. Although Loris’ ances- tors— like those of all of iis — were Terrans, the generations had adapted themselves to life on Venus. We do not know v.hat changes have taken place; how they will be affected by situations which are normal to us.” Ool stood silent. In his own mind, that did not answer the question of what had happened to Loris, or what had gone on during the two weeks. "Unfortunately,” the Oldest Man went on smoothly, as if answering his thoughts, "we have no way of telling what did hap- pen, There was a flaw in the communica- tions system of your sliip. Shortly after you took olf the Security Screen went blank.” The prisoner felt the blood slowly rising in his face. The screen had gone blank, but it had been no accident. He remembered Loris coming up be- hind him as he worked on the screen. "What are you doing?" she asked curi- ously. "Sh,” he warned. He worked a moment more, then the screen went blank. "Til is is one ship that isn’t going to have any Security Check for a while," he an- nounced with satisfaction. "Won’t you get into trouble?” "Probably, but it will be worth it.” He grinned at her appreciatively. Loris was wearing a robe of misty green, through which her body gleamed as though she stood in the midst of a soft cloud. Ool shook,his head. "Good thing I turned it off wh.cn I did. If some old SKurity Watcher could see yoa now, his hardened arteries would probably break into a million pieces.” Loris laughed huskily and stretched her arms above her head. The green mist settled slowly around her ankles. He could remem- ber his vague surprise that the pearly-hued flesh was not cold as she came into his arms, but warm, quite warm — Was he imagining it, or was there a twinkle in the eye of the Oldest Man? "The Old Men,” he was saying drily, "are not too old to have memories. Ihe destruction of a Security Check could be considered a major crime but, since there is no war, the committee is willing to talce into consideration your excellent record as Commander of the Patrol — and the circum- stances. It is regrettable that we cannot tell what did happen to your mate, but the committee agrees that you are not to bhune. You are free to go. Captain.” Ool walked out into the sunlight. He was free but Loris was dead. He soon found that he w as not alone in his grief. Messages poured in. With tlie familiarity they alw'ays feel toward their heroes, the people had made his loss their own. And- when he met Tanya, the e.xoctic Martian dancer, they shared his happiness. There was no attempt this time to dis- connect the Security Screen, so the Watchers were able to tell exactly what happened. The two merely fell asleep. Ool — as he must have done before — slept for several days, as if he had been drugged, then awoke to find himself a widower for the second time. Nothing had happened, but Tanya was dead. The examination to which Ool was sub- mitted now was even more thorough than die one he had undergone earlier. The re- sults were the same. Once more he was found innocent. But if the committee absolved him, many of the people did not. Black looks were thrown at him, people began to edge away from him in the streets. Ool did not blame them. To him, it was as simple as it was to them. Two women had mated with him; two women were dead. Tlie fault was his. There were plenty of places where they

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41 THE BlilDES OF OOL didn't care who you were or what you had done as long as you had the price of a drink. Ool found them all. In them gathered the outcasts of half a dozen planets — thieves, murderers, saboteurs — and in the midst of them. Captain Ool, the pride of the Interplanetary Patrol, tried to drink himself into dslivion. He was well on his way one night sitting alone at his table when a girl came to the door and looked in, as if searching for someone. Not the sort of girl you'd expect to find in a place like tliis; she was clean and healthy. Her short golden curls gleamed through the blue haze, and her firm-muscled young body in its short tunic was the focus of many bleary eyes as slie threaded her w ay between the tables. "Ool, I've been looking for you,” she cried. He looked at her hazily. "'i'ou don't want me," he spoke carefully, managing not to slur his words. 'Tm Ool, the lady killer. I'll get you if you don't watcli out." He giggled and tipped up the bottle. It was empty so he waved the waiter over. "My capac — capacity's increasing,” he told the girl. "At first I couldn't finish one bottle. Now I can almost finish two.” "Ool, listen — ” she caught at his atm. He brushed her aside and reached for the bottle in the waiter's hand. "I'he girl beckoned the waiter aside, whis- pered to him. He shook his head, tlicn nodded as she slipped something into his hand. Tliey came to the table. "■you'd better go with the lady," the waiter advised, but Ool ignored him and took another drink. The waiter lifted him to his feet. Through the thickening fog Ool saw the man's fist go back. Then came tire oblivion he wanted. He awoke in what seemed to be a laboratory. It seemed familiar. So did tbe voices he heard, both talking at once. Tliey broke ofi as he moved. "Ryyn, he's coming to.” the girl's voice cried. Ool looked up. Standing over him were two figures in white tunics. Both had the same blue eyes and short golden hair. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it, then wished he hadn't The girl laughed happily. "You're not seeing double," .she assured him. "Don't you remember us?” Ool opened his eyes once more. Idie words, the girl’s tone, set his fuzzy brain to working. Of course — the man was R)yn, who had been one of his best friends at the Academy. Ryyn, wdiosc brilliant mind had already won him a recommendation for a place on the committee; the youngest man ever to be considered. Then the girl — the girl who had come after him — ^must be Ryaa, his twin sister. Ool remembered her as a slim, boyish kid. There was certainly nothing boyish about her appearance now. Ool tried to sit up and in.stantly Ryaa was by his side, helping him. "Just take it easy,” she advised. "Ryyn is going to give you something to make you feel better.” "Ryaa, I am not in the business of mak- ing hangover remedies," Ryyn growled. But at the same time he tlirust something into Ool’s hand. "Drink,” he commanded. Ool obeyed, shurldering. "Anything that tastes that bad should either kill or cure,” he said. "Probably be better for me if it killed.” "Don’t say that,” Ryaa cried. "Ryyn is going to help you, aren’t you?” "Nobody can help me.” He buried his face in his hands. "I'or all I know I really may have killed tliem.” Ryyn nodded. '"There’s always tliat chance but I don't think so. Anything that deadly would show up in a test. But I’ll have to know more about what happened — ” Step by step he led Ool back over every detail, from his meeting with each girl to her death. Ryaa sat beside Ool, her hand in his, trying not to wince when he lightened his grip at some painful memoiy. "Tlianks,” Ryyn said at last. "I think th.at’s all I need right now. Sorry if I had to hurt you but I'm not in a position to keep up with the news. If we can do anything you’ll have Ryaa to thank for it. She dragged me away from my experiments and made me promise to do what I could — or else,” he grinned at his sister, "she tlireatened to foul things up and leave

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PLASET STORIES 12 me li.mgir.g somewhere in space indefinite- ly-" Ool stared at the girl beside him. This didn’t sound like the quiet little Ryaa he had known. But her scarlet face diowed that at least a part of Rjyn's statement was true. "Now,” Ryyn continued, "I have things to do. Ryaa, why don’t you take this big fellow in tow, and tlie two of you go out and have a good time.’” "Do you tl>ink it’s wise?” Ool asked. "Oh, yes,” Ryaa breathed. Ryyn grinned. "I think so. I want you to forget as completely as possible that this conversation ever took place. Bor a few days try not to think about it or me. It will help me if you don't.” \\ hen Ool began to be seen in public with another girl, excited whispers spread the ncw's rapidly. Sympathetic glances came Ryaa's way but she seemed not to notice them. Before long some of her gaiety transferred itself to Ool, and for a time he forgot tlie tragedy hanging over him. ife was reminded abruptly by a summons from Ryyn. "I know tlie answer,” he told Ool, "but we will have to have proof. The committee has given permission for an experiment. If Ryaa is willing to take a chance — ” ’Til do anything to help Ool,” Ryaa said fervently. ”I thought so,” her brother answered. "So I asked the committee to grant you two permission to mate.” “No," Ool cried hoarsely. “Not Ryaa. I don't want her to die too.” “Nothing will happen to Ryaa if you both do exactly as I say. It’s our only chance to prove your innocence. Besides, I’ve already made the announcement. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” Ool glared at him helplessly, then sank into a diair. Ryaa came to him and put her arms around him. “You said you were willing to do what Ryyn wanted. So am I. If he says I’ll be aU right, I will.” "Well, ’ Ool was only half convinced. “If it’s all riglit with Ryaa. What do you ■want us to do.” “Just one thing rigfit now — just stay here till I give the word.” Ryyn’s announcement spread quickly, and the reception was what might have bew expected. The people were shocked. "I don't think the committee should allow it,” was the usual comment. "Tliere may be more women than men in the Universe, but if Ool keeps on mating with them, we’ll soon be even, "remarked someone with misplaced humor. WHEN Ryyn had decided that the news had spread enough, he gave them the word. Ryaa had voted for the space ship to sliow that she really wasn’t afraid of the jinx, but Ryyn forbade that. He had per- sonally chosen a resort, and had used his influence to overcome the owner’s reluc- tance. It was Ryyn, too, who had the would- be interviewers and most of the curious crowd cleared away. Several of the remarks made by the crowd had started Ool to worrying again. And in spite of her brave remarks, he knew that Ryaa was afraid too. “You don’t have to go through with this,” he told her. “No one would blame you for walking out.” Ryaa riiook net head. “It will be all tight,” she insisted. Stand- ing on tiptoe, she caught his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his. “That’s how much I think of your old curse,” ^e murmured and fled into the other room. When she returned she had changed into a riieer blue gown tliat just matched her eyes, and did nothing to hide her perfectly formed body. Ool stated. He knew riiat she had grown up but he hadn't realized bow beautiful s.he had become. He took a step toward her. But there, standing beside her, were the ghostly figures of Loris and Tanya. He stopped abruptly and his arms fell to his sides. "I must say you don’t act much like an ardent bridegroom,” Ryaa complained. "After all, -we’re supposed to behave nor- mally.” She caught his arms and drew them around her. Slipping her arms around his neck she raised her face to his. Ool’s arms tightened around her and his lips met hers. Behind Ryaa a chair disintegrated with a whispered sigli, unheard by the lovers.

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43 THE nnWES OF 001 But tlicf did hear the crash of splintering glass as two struggling figures hurtled into the room. Rpaa dung to Ool as the fighters threshed around them, unrecognizable at first. Tlien a slim, golden-haired figure seemed to be forcing his opponent down. "Ryyn,” Ryaa exclaimed. "But who — " Tlie two figures were struggling over some sort of a weapon. A sudden tw ist of R)'yn’s wrist sent it hurtling across tlic room. Ool scooped it up — a strange sort of gun — and stood ready to aid Ryyn. But it was no longer necessary for Ryyn had pinned tlie o&er's arms behind him and now forced him to his feet. He was a dark, sc]uat Martian, who looked like a malevolent frog. "Gilk!" Tlie name broke from Ool’s incredulous lips. "Gilk," Ryyn agreed. "The only person who had reason to hate you and was clever Enough to think up such a fiendish plot. Too clever, rcvilly, to be caught in such a simple tr.ip, with you two doing your best to give it away. S('e were lucky that he was m.ul with hate, so he didn't notice." He called out and two guards c.ame into tlie room, one from tlie door and the other through tlie broken window. Bcliind them came the members of the committee. "Here's our murderer." Ryyn told them. "It shouldn't be hard to prove that he killed the others now tliat we saw him try to kill Ryaa and Ool." "Not Ool," Gilk snarled. "I didn't want him to die. Only her. Ool would have stayed alive to suffer again." "But why.'" Ool asked. "\X'e were friends." "Triends!" Gilk spat the word at him. "After all that you did to me. I invented Gilkite — I alone — the only thing powerful enough to halt an entire invasion force. But you received all the glory.” "Because you were a coward," Ryaa cried, stepping in front of Ool. "You ran away and left him to face tlie entire fleet alone.” "I wasn't a coward," Gilk told her in a hurt tone. "Tliere w^as always a chance that something might go wrong; that it might not stop them. Patrol Commanders arc plentiful enough; Ool could have been replaced. But tliere is only one Gilk. No one could have replaced me." His voice rose to a shriek. "Then Ool took all the credit, and tliey laughed at me. But their great hero isn’t a hero any longer." "You arranged all tliat, didn't you?" Ryyn asked. "Of course I arranged it. No one else would be clever enough. But for me it was simple. A little preparation of mine, slipped into tile bride's clothing or perfume, just a matter of timing. But this time I couldn't get to her things aliead of time. I suppose that was your idea. I had to come and do it myself. And I will! " 'With a swift motion he slipped from Ryyn’s grasp. A needle glittered in liis hand as he threw himself toward Ryaa. The guards stood helpless. Neither of them could fire without hitting Ryaa. Ryyn started forward but Ool was ahead of him. With one band he sent Ryaa sprawling out of danger. With tlie other, which still held the gun, he struck Gilk a smashing blow across the face. The ilartian staggered backward, tripped and fell. He screamed once and was still. Ryyn bent over him. . "He fell on the needle," he announced. "At least it was quick.” "Now 1 don’t suppose that anyone will ever know how to make Gilkite," one of the guards said as they picked up the body. "Perhaps it's just as well," said the Oldest Man. "It’s too dangerous a secret for anyone to possess. But tell us, Ryyn. What made you think of him?" Ryyn smiled. "The tools of our trades have changed quite a bit through the ages," he said. "But basically people haven’t. 'I'lie First Murderer that we know of killed his brother out of jealousy. It’s still an important motive." "And with the motive established it wasn’t hard to find your killer?” said the Oldest Man. "But you also mentioned that when tlie e.xperiment was over, you thought that Ool might petition the committee to set aside tliis latest mating." Ryyn glanced at Ool, kneeling beside Ryaa, gathering her into his arms. "I think we’d better forget that part, sir," he suggested.

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DUST UNTO DUST By LYMAN D. HINCKLEY It was alien but was it dead, this towering, sinister city of metal that glittered malignantly before the cautious advance of three awed space-scouters. Martin set the lifeboat down care- fully, with all the attention one usually exercises in a situation where the totally unexpected has occurred, and he and his two companions sat and stared 44 in awed silence at the city a quarter-mile away. He saw the dull, black walls of buildings shouldering grimly into the twilight sky, saw the sheared edge where the metal city

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enJcd and the barren earth began . . . and iie remembered observing, even before they landed, the too-strict geometry imposed on the entire construction. He frowned. The first impression was . . . malignant. Wass, blond and slight, with enough nose for three or four men, unbuckled his safety belt and stood up. "Shall we, gentlemen?" and with a graceful movement of hand and arm he indicated the waiting cit)'. Martin led Wass, and the g.angling, scarccrow-like Rodney, through the stillness overlaying the barren ground. There was only the twilight sky, and harsh and black against it, the convoluted earth. And the city. Malignant. He wondered, again, w'hat beings would choose to build a city — even a city like this one — in such surroundings. Tire men from the ship knew only the surface facts about this waiting geometric discovery. Theirs was the eleventh inter- planetary flight, and the previous ten, in the time allowed them for exploration while this planet was still close enough to their own to permit a safe return in Uieir ships, h.ad not spotted the city. But the eleventh expedition had, an hour ago, with just 45

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PLANET STORIES 46 thirtceen hours left during nhich a return flight could be safely started. So far as was known, this was the only city on the planet — the planet without any life at all, save tiny mosses, for a million years or more, j^nd no matter which direction from the city a man moved, he would always be going north. "Hey, Martin!” Rodney called through his helmet radio. Martin paused. "Wind,” Rodney said, coming abreast of him. He glam-ed toward tlie black pile, as if sharing Martin's tlioughts. "That’s all W'C need, isn’t it?” Martin looked at the semi-transparent figures of wind and dust cavorting in tlie distance, moving tow ard tliem. He grinned a little, adjusting his radio. "Worried?” Rodney’s bony face was witliout expres- sion. "Gives me tlie creeps, kind of. I wonder what tliey were like?” Wass murmured, "Let us hope they aren’t immortal.” Tliree feet from the edge of the dty Martin stopped and stubbed at the sand ■with the toe of his boot, clearing earth from part of a shining metal band. Wass watched him, and then shoved aside mote sand, several feet away. “It’s here, too.” Martin stood up. "Let’s try farther on. Rodney, radio the ship, tell tliem we’re going in.” Rodney nodded. After a time, Wass said, "Here, too. How fat do you tliink it goes?” Martin shrugged. "Qeat around the city? Td like to know what it is — was — for.” "Defense,” Rodney, several yards behind, suggested. "Could be,” Martin said. "Let’s go in.” Tlie three crossed tlie metal band and walked abreast down a street, their broad soft soled boots making no sound on the dull metal. They passed doors and arches and windows and separate buildings. They moved cautiously across five intersections. And they stood in a square surrounded by the tallest buildings in the city. Rodney broke the silence, hesitantly. "Not — not very big. Is it?” W’ass looked at him shrewdly. ’’Neither were the — well, shali we call them, people? Have you noticed how low everything is?” Rodney’s laughter rose, too quickly. ’Then, sobering — "Maybe they crawled.” A nebulous image, product of childhood’s vivid imagination, moved slowly across Martin’s mind. "All right!’’ he rapped out — and the image faded. "Sorry,” Rodney murmured, his tliroat working beneath his lantern jaw. Then — "I wonder what it’s like here in tlie w inter when there’s no light at all?” "I imagine they had illumination of some sort,” Martin answered, dryly. "If we don’t hurry up and get through tliis place and hack to the ship, we’re very likely to find out.” Rodney said quickly, "I mean outside.” "Out tliere, too, Rodney, they must have had illumination.” Martin looked back along the straight, metal street they’d walked on, and past that out over the bleak, furrowed slopes where tlie ship’s lifeboat lay . . . and lie thought everything outside the city seemed, somehow, from here, a little dim, a little hazy. He straightened his shoulders. Tlie city was alien, of course, and tliat explained most of it . . . most of it. But he felt the black city was something familiar, yet twisted and distorted. ’’Well,” Wass said, his nose wrinkling a bit, "now that we’re here . . "Pictures,” Martin decided. "We have twelve hours. We’ll start here. What’s the matter, Wass?” ’The blond man grinned ruefully. "I left the camera in the lifeboat.” There was a pause. Then Wass, defensively — "It’s al- most as if the city didn’t want to be photo- graphed.” Martin ignored the remark. "Go get it. Rodnq' and I will be somewhere along tiiis street.” Wass turned away. Martin and Rodney started slowly down die wide metal street, at right angles to their path of entrance. dgain Martin felt a tug of twisted, dis- torted familiarity. It was almost as if . . . they were human up to a certain point, tlie point being, perhaps, some part of tlieir minds. . . . Alien things, dark and subtle, things no man could ever comprehend. Parallel evolution on two inner planets of tlie same system? Somewhere, sometime, a common ancestor? Martin noted the

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DUST VSTO DUST Aoulder-hi^ doors, the heavier gravity, remembered the inh^itants of the city van- ished before the thing that was to become man ever emerged from the slime, and he decided to grin at himself, at his own im- agination. Rodney jerked his scarecrow length about quickly, and a chill sped up Martin's spine. "What's tlie matter?’’ The bony face was white, the gray eyes were wide. "I saw — I thought I saw — some- thing— moving — ” Anger rose in Martin. "You didn't," he said flatly, gripping the other’s shoulder cruelly. "'You couldn’t have. Get hold of yourself, man!" Rodney stared. "The wind. Remember? There isn't any, here." “. . . How could tliere be? The buildings protect us now. It was blowing from the other direction." Rodney wrenclied free of Martin's grip. He gestured wildly. "That — " "Martin!" Wass' voice came through the receivers in both tlieir radios. "Martin, I can't get out!” RODNHY mumbled something, and Martin told him to shut up. Wass said, more quietly, "Remember that metal band? It's all clear now, and glitter- ing, as fat as I can see. I can’t get across it; it’s like a glass wall." "We’re trapped, we’re trapped, they ace — ’’ "Shut up, Rodney! Wass, Tm only two sections from the edge. I'll check here." Martin dapped a hand on Rodney’s shoulder again, starting him moving, to- ward tlie city’s edge, past the black, silent buildings. Tlie glittering band was here, too, like a halo around a silhouette. "No go,” Martin said to Wass. He bit at his lower lip. “I think it must be all around us." He was silent for a time, ex- ploring the consequences of this. Then — ''We’ll meet you in the middle of tlie city, where we separated." Walking with Rodney, Martin heard Wass’ voice, flat and metallic tlirough the radio receiver against his ear. "What do you suppose caused this?” He shook his head angrily, saying. 47 "Judging by reports of tlie rest of the planet, it must have been horribly radioac- tive at one time. All of it.” "Man-made radiation, you mean." Martin grinned faintly. Wass, too, had an active imagination. "Well, alien-made, anyhow. Perhaps tliey had a war.” Wass’ voice sounded startled. "Anti- radiation screen?" Rodney interrupted, "There hasn’t been enough radiation around here for hundreds of thousands of years to activate such a screen.” Wass said coldly, "He’s right, Martin.” Martin crossed an intersection, Rodney slightly behind him. "You’re both wrong,” he said. "We landed here tod.ay.” Rodney stopped in the middle of the metal street and stared down at Martin. "The wind- — ?’’ "Why not?" "That would explain w'hy it stopped so suddenly, then.” Rodney stood straighter. When he walked again, his steps were firmer. They reached the center of the city, ahead of the small, slight Wass, and stood watch- ing him la’txrr along tlie metal toward them. Wass’ face, Martin saw, was sober. "I tried to call the ship. No luck." "The shield?” Wass nodded. "What else?" "I don’t know — ’’ "If we went to the roof of the tallest building,” Rodney offered, "we might — ” Martin shook his head. "No. To be effective, the shield would have to cover the city.” Wass stared down at the metal street, as if he could look through it. "I wonder where it gets its power?" "Down below, probably. If there is a down below." Martin hesitated. "We may have to . . .” "What?" Rodney prompted. Martin shrugged. "Let’s look." He led the way through a shoulder-high arch in one of the tall buildings surround- ing the square. The corridor inside w.as dim and plain, and he switched on his flashliglit, the other two immediately following his example. The walls and the rounded ceil- ing of the corridor were of the same dull metal as the buildings’ f.icades, and the

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48 PLANET STORIES streets. TIktc were a multitude of doors and arches set into either side of tlie cor- ridor. It was rather like . . . entering a gigantic metal beehive. Martin chose an arch, with beyond it a metal ramp, which tilted downward, gleam- ing in the pale circle of his torch. A call from Rodney halted him. "Back here," the tall man repeated. "It looks like a switchboard.” The three advanced to the end of the central corridor, pausing before a great arch, outlined in the too-careful geometrical figures Martin had come to associate with tlie city builders, 'fire tliree torclies, shining through the arch, picked out a bank of buttons, handles . . . and a thick tope of caldes which ran upward to vanish unex- pectedly in the metal roof. "Is this it,” Wass murmured, "or an auxiliary?" Martin shrugged, "'nie whole city's no more than a machine, apparently." "Another asumption,” Wass said. "We have done nothing but make assumptions ever since we got here.” "What would you suggest, instead?" Martin asked calmly. Rodney furtively, extended one hand toward a switch. "No!” Martin said, sharply. That was one assumption tliey dared not make. Rodney turned. "But — ” "No. Wass, how much time have we?” "The ship leaves in eleven hours.” "Eleven hours," Rodney repeated. "Eleven hours!” He reached out for the switch again. Martin swore, stepped for- ward, pulled him back roughly. He directed his flashlight at Rodney’s thin, pale face. "W'hat do you think you’re doing? ” "We have to find out what all this stuff’s for!” "Going at it blindly, we’d probably exe- cute ourselves.” "W'e’ve got to — ’ "No!” Then, more quietly — "'W'e still have eleven hours to find a way out.” "Ten hours and forty-five minutes,” Wass disagreed softly. "Minus the time it takes us to get to tlie lifeboat, fly to the sliip, land, stow it, get ourselves aboard, and get the big ship aw ay from the planet. And Captain Morgan can’t wait for ns, Martin.” "You too, Wass?” "Up to tlie point of accuracy, yes." Martin said, "Not necessarily. You go the way the wind does, always thinking of your own tender hide, of course.” Rodney cursed. "And every second we stand here doing nothing gives us that much less time to find a way out. Martin — ’ "Make one move toward that switdi- board and I’ll stop you where you stand!” WASS moved silently through the dark- ness beyond the torches. "We all have guns, Martin.” "I’m holding mine.” Martin waited. After a moment, Wass switched his flash- light back on. Ele said quietly, "He’s rigjit, Rodney. It would be sure death to monkey around in here.” "Well . . .” Rodney turned quickly to- ward the black arch. "Let’s get out of here, then!” Martin hung back waiting for tlie others to go ahead of him down the metal hall. At the otlier arch, where the ramp led downward, he called a halt. "If the dome, or whatever it is, is a radiation screen there must be at least half-a-dozen emergency exits around the city.” Rodney said, "To search every building next to tlie dome clean around the city would take years.” Martin nodded. "But tliere must be cen- tral roads beneath this main level leading to them. Up here there are too many toads.” Wass laughed rudely. "Have you a better idea?” Wass ignored that, as Martin hoped be would. He said slowly, "Tliat leads to an- other idea. If tlie band around the city is responsible for the dome, does it project down into the ground as well?" "You mean dig out?” Martin asked. "Sure. Why not?” "We re wearing heavy suits and bulky breathing units. We have no equipment" "That shouldn’t be hard to come by.” Martin smiled, banishing Wass’ idea, Rodney said, "They nuy have had their digging equipment built right in to them- selves.”

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DUST UNTO DUST "Anyway,” Martin decided, "we can take a loci down below." "In die pitch dark,” Wass added. Martin adjusted his torch, begim to lead the way down the metal tamp. The incline was gentle, apparently constructed for legs shorter, feet perhaps less broad than their own. The metal, without mark of any sort, gleamed under the combined light of the torclics, unrolling out of the darkness before die men. At length the incline melted smoothly into the next level of the city. Martin shined his light upward, and the others followed his example. Metal as smooth and featureless as that on which they stood slione down on them. Wass turned his light parallel with the floor, and then moved slowly in a circle. "No supports. No supports anywhere. What keeps ail that up there?” "I don’t know. I have no idea.” Martin gestured toward tlie ramp with his light. “Does all diis, this whole place, look at all familiar to you?” Rodney’s gulp was clearly audible through the radio receivers. "Here?" "No, no,” Martin answered impatiently, "not just here. 1 mean the whole city.” "Yes," Wass said dryly, "it docs. I’m sure this is where all my nightmares stay when they’re not on shift." Martin turned on his heel and started down a metal avenue which, he thought, paralleled the street above. And Rodney and Wass followed him silently. They moved along tlie metal, past unfamiliar shapes made more so by gloom and moving shadows, past doors dancing grotesquely in the three lights, past openings in the occasional high metal partitions, past some- thing w'hich was perhaps a conveyor belt, ast another something which could have cen anything at all. Tlie metal street ended eventually in a blank metal wall. Tlie edge of the cit)- — the cit}' which was a dome of force above and a bowl of metal below. After a lon^^ time, Wass sighed. "Well, skipper . . . ?’ ' We go back, I guess,” Martin said. Rodney turned swiftly to face him. 4 — Planet — Summer 49 Martin thought the tall man was holding his gun. “To the switchboard, Martin?” "Unless someone has a better idea," Martin conceded. He waited. But Rodney was holding the gun . . . and Wass was . . . Then — "I can’t tliink of anytliing else.” Then began to retrace their steps along the metal street, back past tlie same dancing shapes of metal, the partitions, the odd windows, all looking different now in tlie new angles of illumination. Martin was in the lead. \>('ass followed him silently. Rodney, tall, matchstick thin, even in his cumbersome suit, swayed witli jaunty triumph in the tear. Martin looked at the metal street lined with its metal objects and he sighed. He remembered how the dark buildings of the city looked at surface level, how the city itself looked when they were landing, and then when they were walking toward it. The dream was gone again for now. Ideal- ism died in him, again and again, yet it was always reborn. But — The only city, so far as anyone knew, on the first planet they’d ever explored. And it had to be like this. Nightmares, Wass said, and Martin thought perhaps the city was built by a race of beings who at some point twisted away from their es'olutionary spiral, plagued by a sort of racial insanity. No, Martin thought, shaking his head. No, tliat couldn’t be. Viewpoint ... his viewpoint. It was the haunting sense of familiarity, a faint strain through all this broad jumble, the junkpile of alien metal, which was making him theorize so wildly. Then Wass touched his elbow. "Look there, Martin. Left of the ramp.” Light from their torches was reflected, as from glass. "All tight,” Rodney said belligerently into his radio. "What's holding up the procession?” Martin was silent. Wass undertook to explain. Why not, after all? Martin asked himself. It was in Wass’ own interest. In a moment, all three were standing before a bank of ghass cases which stretched off into the distance as far as the combined light of their torches would reach. "Seeds!” Wass exclaimed, his faceplate pressed against the glass.

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50 PLANET STOniEE Martin blinked. He tliought how little time they had. He wet his lips. Wass’ gloved hands fumbled awkwardly at a catch in the nearest section of the bank. Martin thouglit of the dark, convoluted land outside the city. If tliey wouldn’t grow tiiere. ... Or had they, once? "Don't, \V.iss!" Torclilight reflected from Wass’ face- plate as he turned his head. "Why not.^ ” They were like children. . . . "We don't know, released, what they'll do.’’ "Skipper," Wass said carefully, "if we don’t get out of this place by the deadline %ve may be eating these.” Martin rai.scd his arm tensely. "Opening a seed bank doesn’t help us find a way out of here." He started up the r;unp. "Besides, we'se no water. ” Rodney came last up the ramp, less jaunty now, but still holding the gun. His mind, too, was taken up w ith childhood’s imagin- ings. "I'or a plant to grow in this environ- ment, it wouldn’t need much water. May- be— ” he had a vision of evil plants attack- ing them, growing with suiter-swiftness at tlie air valves and joints of their suits " — only the little moisture in the atmos- phere. ’’ THliY stood before the switchboard again. Martin and Wass side by side, Kodney, still holding his gun, slightly to tl;e rear. Rodney moved forward a little toward the switches. His breatliing was loud and rather uneven in the radio receivers. Martin made a final effort. "Rodney, it's still almost nine hours to take off. Let's search awhile first. Let this be a last resort.” Rodney jerked his head negatively. "No. Now. I know you, Martin. Postpone and postpone until it’s too late, and the ship leaces without us and we’re stranded here to c.at seeds and gradually dehydrate our- selves and Cod only knows what else and--- ” He re.ichcd out convulsively and yanked a switch. Martin leaped, knocking him to the floor. Rodney’s gun skittered away silently, like a live thing, out of the range of the torches. Tire radio receivers impersonally recorded lie grating sounds of Rodney’s sobs. "Sorry,” Martin said, without feeling. He turned quickly. "Wass?” The slight, blond man stood unmoving. "I’m w ith you, Martin, but, as a last resort it might be better to be blown sky high th.in to die gradually — ” Martin was watching Rodney, struggling to get up. "I agree. As a last resort. We still have a little time.” Rodney’.s tall, spare figure looked bowed and tired in the torchlight, now that he was up again. "Martin, I — ” Martin turned his back. "Skip it, Rod- ney,” he .said gently. ’’W.!ter, ” \Va.ss said thoughtfully. "There must be reservoirs under this city some- where.” Rodney said, "How docs water help us get out?" Martin glanced at Wass, then started out of the sw itchboard room, not looking back. "It got in and out of the city some w.iy. Perhaps we can leave the s.an'le way.” Down the nur.p again. "I’herc’s another ramp,” Wass mur- mured. Rodney looked down it. "I wonder how many there are, all told.” Martin placed one foot on the metal imiine. He angled his torch down, picking out shadowy, geometrical shapes, duplicates of the ones on the present level. “We’ll find out,” he said, "how many tliere are." Eleven levels later Rodney asked, "How much time ha\e we now?" "Seven hours," Wass said quietly, "until take-off.” "One more Icc'cl,” Martin said, ignoring the reference to time. "I . . . think it’s the last." They walked down the ramp and .stood together, silent in a dim pool of artificial light on the bottom level of the alien city. Rodney played his torch about the metal figures carefully placed about the floor. "Martin, what if there are no reservoirs? What if there arc cemeteries instead? Or cold storage units? Maybe the switch 1 pulled — ’’ "Rodneyl Stop itl” Rodney swallosvcd audibly. “Tliis place scares me ...” "The first time I was twer in a rorket, it scared me, 1 was thirteen.”

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DVST vyro dust "Tliis is different,” Wass said. "Built-in traps — ” ^'Thejr had a war," Martin said. Wass agreed. "And the survivors retired here. Why?" Martin said, "They w'anted to rebuild. Or maybe this was already built before tlie w'ar as a retreat." He turned impa- tiently. "How should I know?" Wass turned, too, persistent. "But tlie planet was through with them." "In a minute," Martin said, too irritably, "we’ll have a sentient planet." From tlie cornet of his eye he saw Rodney start at that. "Knock it off, Wass. We're looking for reservoirs, you know." Tlrey moved slowly down the metal avenue, between the twisted shadow- shaj^es, looking carefully about them. Rodney paused. "We might not recognize one." Martin urged him on. "You know what a man-hole cover looks like.” He added dryly, “Use your imagination." They reached the metal wall at the end of the avenue and paused again, uncertain. Martin swung his flashlight, illuminating the distorted metal shapes. Wass said, "All this had a purpose, once . . .” “We'll disperse and scardi carefully," Martin said. "I wonder w-hat the pattern was." “. . . Tire reservoirs, Wass. The pattern will still be here for later e.vpeditrons to study. So will we if we don’t find a way to get out.” Their radios recorded Rodney’s gasp. Tlien — "Martin! Martin! I think I’ve found something!" Martin began to run. After a moment’s hesitation, Wass ssvung in behind him. "Here," Rodney said, as they came up to him, out of breath. "Here. See? Right here.” Three flashlights centered on a dark, metal disk raised a foot or more from the floor. "Well, they had hands,” With his torch Wass indicated a small w'hcel of the same metal as everything else in tlie city, set be- side the disk. From its design Martin assumed that the d’usk was meant to be grasped and turned. 51 He wondered what precisely they were standing over. "Well, Skipper, are you going to do the honors?" Martin kneeled, grasped the wheel. It turned easily — almost too easily — rohating tlie disk as it turned. Suddenly, without a sound, the disk rose, like a hatcli, on a concealed hinge. The tliree men, clad in their suits and helmets, grouped around the six-foot open- ing, shining tlieir tordies down into the thing that drifted and eddied directly be- neath them. Rodney’s sudden grip on Martin’s w-rist nearly shattered tlie bone. "Martin! It's all alive! It's moving!" Martin hesitated long enough fc«r a coil to move sinuously up toward the opening. Then he spun the wdiecl and the hatch shammed down. He was shaking. After a time he said, "Rodney, Wass, it’s dust, down there. Remember the wind? Air currents are moving it." Rodney sat down on the rnchal flooring. For a long time he said nothing. Ihcn — "It wasn't. . . . VC'hy did you close the hatch then?" Martin did not say he tiiought the other two would have sliot him, otherwise. He said merely, "At first I wasn’t sure myself." Rodney stood up, backing away from the closed hatch. He held his gun loosely, and his hand shook. "Then prove it. Open it again.” Martin went to the wheel. He noticed Wass was standing behind Rodney and he, too, had drawn his gun. "The hatch rose again at Martin’s direc- tion. He stood beside it, outlined in tlie light of two torches. For a little while he was alone. Then — causing a gasp from Wass, a harsh expletive from Rodney — a tenuous, quest- ing alien limb edged through the hatch, curling about Martin, sparkling in ten thou- sand separate particles in the torchlight, obscuring the dimly seen backdrop of geo- metrical processions of strange objects. Martin raised an arm, and the particles swirled in stately, shimmering spirals. Rodney leaned forward and looked over

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PLANET STORIES 52 the edge of the hatch. He said nothing. He ej'ed tlie sparkling particles swirling about Martin, and now, himself. "How deep, ’ Wass said, from bis safe distance. "Well have to lower a flashlight," Martin answered. Rodney, all eagerness to be of assistance now, lowered a rope witli a torch swinging wildly on the end of it. The torch came to rest about tliirty feet down. It shone on gently rolling mounds <;f fine, white stuff. Martin anchored the rope soundly, and paused, half across the lip of tlie hatch to stare coldly at Wass. "You’d rather monkey with the switches and blow your- self to smithereens?” Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin’s gaze. Martin looked at him disgustedly, and ilten began to descend the rope, slowly, peering into the infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottom of the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. He stamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standing jump. He sank no farther than his knees. He sighted a path parallel with the ave- nue above, toward the nearest edge of the city. "I think we ll be all right,” he called out, "as long as we avoid the drifts." Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney. "All right, Wass," Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope and sank into the dust. '"Not me,” the answer came back quickly. "You two fools go your way. I'll go mine.” "Wass!” There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening. The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddied and swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits were hard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves. "Are we going straight?” Rodney asked. "Of course,” Martin growled. There was silence again, the silence of almost-exhausted determination. The two men lifted their feet out of the dust, and then laboriously plunged forward, to sink again to tlie knees, repeated the act. times without number. Then Wass broke his silence, taunting. "The ship leaves in two hours, Martin. Two hours. Hear me, Rodney?” Martin pulled his left foot from the .sand and grow led deep in his throat. Ahead, through the confusing patterns of the sparkling dust, his flashlight gleamed against metal. He grabbed Rodney's arm, pointed. A grate. Rodney stared. "Wass!” he shouted. "We’ve found a way out!” Their radios recorded Wass’ laughter. "I’m at the switchboard now, Martin. 1 — ” There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate. The grate groaned upward and stopped. . Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then he began to scream. Martin switched off his radio, sick. He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall, ‘"^'ell?” "Tve been trying to get you,” Rodney said, frantically, "why didn’t you answer?” "We couldn’t do anything for him.” Rodney’s face was white and drawn. "But he did this for us." "So he did,” Martin said, very quietly. Rodney said nothing. Then Martin said, "Did you listen until the end? ” Rodney nodded, jerkily. "He pulled three more swatches. I couldn’t understand it all. But - Martin, dying alone like that in a place like this — !” Martin crawled into the circular pipe behind the grate. It tilted up toward the surface. "Come on, Rodney. Last lap.” An hour later they surfaced about two hundred yards away from the edge of the city. Behind them the black pile rose, the dome of force shimmering, almost invisible, about it. Ahead of them were the other tw o scout- ships from the mother ship. Martin called out faintly, pulling Rodney out of the pipe. Crew members standing by tlie scoutships, and at the edge of the city, began to run toward them. "Radio picked you up as soon as you entered the pipe,” someone said. It was the last thing Martin heard before he collapsed.

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ALIEN EQUIVALENT By RICHARD R. SMITH Martians were weak, sensitive, a dying race, frail and impotent before the superiority of master Earibmen. Only in the sly and mentally skillful game of Duchal might sons of the red planet emerge gloriously from their shells. CHESTER FARRELL emerged from the narrow alley and paused before tlie barbed wire fence. • Behind him, tlie Martian city was a maze of strange sounds, angular buildings, acrid odors and dark sliadows. Before him, beyond tlie fence, tlirec space- ships pointed their bows toward a star- studded sky. The slender ships gleamed dully in the starlight as tliey rested on tlie ted desert. He touched the money in his pocket to reassure himself that at last, he had the fare for the trip to Eartli. His eyes scanned the heavens, seatdied for the bright light that was Eartli. Earth! In itself, tlie planet meant little to him. The seas, mountains, valleys and for- ests did not cause the burning desire inside him. He closed his eyes and remembered a brick house in Cleveland and the brown- haired woman and chubby boy who lived there. He recalled slender, soft fingers that touclicd him gently and a small form that waddled uncertainly across tlicir living room floor. Three years ago, he had left Louise and Sammy on Earth. He had come to Mars to make a small fortune. The dream had not materialized: the Mars Mining Corjxiration didn’t want to pay their employees good salaries although the ores transported to Earth sold for tre- mendous profits. They paid their employees as little as possible. It was simple: Governments wanted col- onists on Mars to exploit the planet. Mars Mining wanted colonists to remain and op- erate tiieir mines. The two groups, politiod and business, collaborated and . . . while the trip to Mars cost only a hundred dollars, tlie return trip to Earth cost one tliousand dollars. Because of tlie high price of living on Mars and the low salaries, the fee was an encouragement to remain on the planet. It had taken him three years to save enough money to rejoin his family. Bitterness filled him as he studied the motionless ships. Convertible spaceships. The bulkheads inside the hull were collapsi- ble and tlie space in a ship was constantly adjusted into different size storage hold.s and passenger compartments. During the voyage to Earth, he would be the only passenger and would occupy a cof- fin-like compartment. Every other available foot of space would be filled with valuable ores. When the ship returned to Mars, tlie pas- senger compartments would be spacious, luxurious and comfortable. Ib.ey would be filled with hundreds of propaganda-fed, eager colonists who were unaware of the economic trap before them. As he turned and followed the fence to- w-ard the spaceport’s office buildings he heard the faint sounds behind him. A whisper of movement across the red sand. An animal? He glanced uneasily at the tiny lights from the office buildings. In the thin atmos- phere, light carried a long distance and was deceptive. ’Tlie lights seemed near but he knew he still had a fifteen minute walk aliead of him. Once more he heard the indefinable sound behind him. 53

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ALIES EQUIVALENT His imagination? A Martian? An Eartlmian, a sound of harsh breathing informed him. He leaped to one side as the sounds neared his back. Too late. Something crashed into tiie side of his head and bright lights danced gaily inside his skull. He fell and rolled frantically across the soft sand. As he scrambled to his feet he saw his attacker, a husky, powerfully built man. A blackjack dangled loosely from a hand. Before he could rise a knee struck him efh the jaw. He sank to the ground. Tlie man was on him, pinning him to the sand. Parrell’s nostrils were filled with the man's acrid body odor. A knife glittered in the starlight as it was pressed gently against his throat. "Tell me where the money is,” the man ordered. “It'll save time.” Too stunned to speak, Farrell nodded at his coat pocket. The man removed the money and counted rapidly, somehow managing to keep the knife in his hand while he flipped the bills. Satisfied, he stuffed tlie bills in a pocket and raised the knife for a fatal lunge. His arms pinned at his sides by tlie man's knees. Farrell knew only one thing could save him: ’'X^ORDS. "I can get you five times tliat much,” he said quickly, tlie words crowding each other in tiicir haste. It worked: tlie knife wavered, hesitated. If he had screamed, "Don’t kill me!” he would have been killed instantly but the simple statement had aroused his as.saiiant's curiosity. “Five times tliat much?” the man repeated gruffly. Phobos, the largest and closest of the tvt'o moons, moved visibly across the dark sky. Suddenly, they were no longer in the shadow of a building. Moonlight flowed across the man's face and for tlie first time, he saw his features. He looked up at a tough, almost brutal face with thick lips, fierce eyes, blunt, bto- loea nose and bushy eyebrows. "Five thousand dollars,” Farrell con- firmed. '“W^here?” "Dankor city. You've heard of a Martian g.imc called rhakal?” He frowned. "Yeah, 1 heard of it. I also heard Earthmcn don't win very often.” "I won,” Farrell told him. "Five thou- sand. I spent most of it but I saved the thousand to go b.ack to Earth. If you don't kill me. I'll win five tliousand for you." His adversary' grinned wryly and low- ered the knife toward Farrell's throat. "This .sound.s like a trick." "Trick? How can I trick you? Dankor is off limits to Eartlimen. You and I will be the only^ — " Tlie man cocked his head and asked, "You have any Martian friends in Dankor?" Farrell laughed at tlie thought, "Martian friends?” Some of the wariness left the other's face. Everyone knew no Earthman had a Mar- tian friend. The Martians were a fading but proud race. Tliey resented Earthmen and submitted bitterly to their presence. Mar- tians did not associate with Eartlimen. To do so would mean loss of social standing and almost always loss of their lives by the hand of some fanatical anti-Earth group. Martians submitted to the invasion of tlieir planet by colonists because they had no dioke: they were few in nimibcr, a weak, dying r.ace. Inwardly, they hated Earthmen and, given the chance, would rid M.irs of all colonists. While his antagonist considered the offer, Farrell’s mind whirled rapidly. How could he escape? His body was trapped beneath tlie man’s weight, unable to move. Call for help? He quickly discarded the idea: on one side was a Martian city and on the otlier was the spaceport. Tlie group of crude stone buildings were inhabited by aliens. Martians might tome and watch him die if he called for help but they'd never try to s.avc him. The spaccjiort was deserted except for the empty, waiting spaceships and the office buildings were too far away for anyone to heat a cry. He could do nothing. "I’ll give you a chance," his enemy said as he rose to his feet. "You win five tliou-

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PLANET STORIES 5G sand for me and I'll let you keep the tliou- sand and your life.” He placed the knife in a sheath and drew a stubby revolver from a podeet. "If you make a wrotig move, I'll blast you in half. I don't like to use tliis thing because it’s noisy, but — " He waved the gun and tire action seemed to complete die sentence in itself. «T EX’S take a taxi," I'arrell suggested as J— 1 he rose shakily and brushed red sand from his clothes. "No." "It'll tal;c an hour to v alk tliere," I'arrell protested mildly. "'We’ll walk," the man stated. “We’ll walk and we ll take the most deserted streets." Farrell led the way tlirough tlie small Martian city that bordered the spaceport and across a narrow streUh of desert to Dankor canal. At the canal, he turned and followed it nortliward, walking on the huge, weather- smoothed stones that formed one wall of the large w atenvay. Thousands of feel below them, muddy water gurgled roaringly as it moved south- ward to the Martian farmlands. In the clear atmosphere, the opposite wall of the canal ten miles away was a thin, dark line. "What’s your name?" Farrell asked suddenly. "Tharp." "Where do you work?" "None of your business." They walked in silence, the tevo moons casting double shadows from each of tlicir bodies. With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Farrell realized the odds were against his seeing his family again. "How did you learn 1 had the money?” Farrell asked. Tharp grinned broadly. "When anyone makes a reservation on the flight to Earth, the news gets around. It got around to me.” His laughter sounded brittle in the thin atmosphere. After what seemed like years, tliey ar- rived at the outskirts of Dankor. Although it was off-limits, the police patrolled infre- quently and even those patrols were publicly known schedules. Dankor was a small cluster of low crum- bling buildings. T'he streets were littered with filth and pale Martians dressed in tags shuffled aimlessly witli blank eyes as if their world had already died. Jars of brilliant fireflies on roof tops illu- minated the village. Imprisoned in the transparent containers, the fluttering insects cast an ceric, pulsating glow on the di.smal buildings. Farrell paused before a tliick wooden door and kicked it with his tight foot. "Tlie first time I came here," he explained, "I al- most broke my knuckles before they heard me.” A few minutes later, the door opened. "Come in, " a bony, wizened Martian invited. Tharp remained a few paces behind Far- rell as they entered the room. T’he stench of the place made their stom- achs churn sickly. A group of listless Martians sat in the center of the floor and watched a large cube- shaped object. 'Two Martians on opposite sides of tile cube sat before small control panels. I'he Earthmen watched as one Martian touched a button on his control panel. A green ball inside the cube rose a few inches. The other Martian pushed a button and a brown ball at the top of the hollow cube dropped a few inches. A thin Martian with grey hair and water)' eyes asked, '"i'ou vish gamble?" Farrell nodded his head aflirmatively. The Martian smiled weakly and inquired in broken English, "Vhot is vager? Monee or duchal?" "What in hell is duchal?” TTiarp a.sked. "It’s hard to explain,” Farrell confessed. "But. we'll have to wait until tliose Marties are through and you’ll see nhat duchal is when they finish.” Farrell squatted on the cold floor, Tharp sat two yards to one side. Silently they watched the hfartian gam- blers. Several minutes later the emaciated aliens rose from their positions behind the small control boards. "Is the game over?” TTiarp asked. "Yes. Sec the Martian with the green tunic? He's the one who lost tlie game. The

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ALIEN EQUIVALENT ■winntr v/ill receive a cerUiii measure of dudial from him." They watdieJ intently as a, strange ma- chine was brought into tire room. The h\'0 gamblers sat close to each other. A third Martian attached electrodes to their heads, then flipped a lever on the ancient, rusty machine. Tire Martian who lost the game grimaced with pain. A needle on the machine’s single dial moved all the way to the right, tlien quickly returned to its original position. An expression of joy spread the victor’s thin Ups into a wide smile. A 'few seconds later, the electrodes were pSmoved from their heads. !' Tharp grunted his batBement. "Ducl'.al,” Farrell explained quickly, "means an expression of sorrow or pain. By means of that machine, the winner was able to receive in his brain the sensation of the loser's physical and mental agony at losing the g.ame.” '"Tliat’s what they were betting?" Tharp asked unbelicvingiy. "Yes. It's the same principle as humans who play games merely for the disappointed expression on the loser's face. Tire Martians do it a little differently: they have a ma- chine that transmits the loser’s pain into the victor’s brain. Ttie Martians arc constructed in such a way that the agony of another person, implanted in their minds, is very pleasant to them." "Tliey must be crazy!" Farrell shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Anyway, you have a choice. You can bet the thousand dollars or a certain amount of duchal. ” "If we bet duchal and lost, we’d only have to pay the Martians a little , . , sensa- tion of agony at losing the game?” "Right.” Tliarp laughed. "Hell, let’s bet duchal. I’hat’d be better than losing a thousand bucks if we should lose the g.ame.” He slipped his hand into a pocket and the cloth bulged in Farrell’s direction. "And we'd better win!”, W'hM’s the di§erence? Farrell thought. If we win or lose, you'll kill me. You can't lease me alire to re fort you to the police! b7 "You can play the game," Farrell sug- gested. "I’ll tell you what buttons to push." "Ok:iy. Tell the Martians we want to bet an amount of duchal worth five tliousand. How much would that be on the dial on that gimmick?" Farrell pointed at the graduation to the extreme right of the dial. "Sec that line? That would be worth five thousand in duchal. The same .amount tlie Martian bet, ” Tharp smiled as he remembered how easily the Martian gambler had paid liiat amount of duchal. If they lost the g.ime, he’d have no trouble paying the gambling debt. "Five thousand," Farrell told the waiting Martian. "We'll bet duchal.” The Martian smiled happily, disappcartii for a few minutes and returned with a large bag. Without ceremony he spilled the comenis on the stone floor. Hiarp gasped when he saw the golden earrings, cups, anklets, rings and bracelets sliiddcd with diamonds. They were easily worth more than eight thousand dollars. "Why the hell are they living in dumps like this when they have tliat kind of stuff? They could buy — ’’ He hesitated as if the incompleted sentence indicated an infnnic list of articles. "It means nothing. to tliem," Farrell ex- plained. ’"Hiey have a different monetary system. Most Martians are so poor, exen the rich ones can’t buy anytliing more valu- able than food, clothes and shelter. And the Martians are too stubborn to trade with F.irthmen.” He reflected idly tliat on all of Mars the only place where tlie two races associated was in g.imbling rooms like this. Even there, the Martians’ attitude was stiff and business- like. 'Hie group of aliens shuffled about uneas- ily, impatient for the game to begin. "You ready to .start?” Farrell asked, "Sure." <<rpHE object of the game is to get tho.se -*- bal Is at the top of the aibc to the bot- tom level. The Martian will try to get the ones at the bottom to the top. "The balls arc governed by the control panels. It’s like three dimension Chinese checkers."

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58 PLANET STORIES "Sasush rhakol,” a Martian said loudly. "The game has started. Push the top green button.” Tliarp thrust with a grimy finger. The game lasted several minutes. Eacli time it was tlieir turn to move, Farrell told Tharp what button to push. Even while tlie game progressed, tlic husky man watclied Farrell out of tlie corners of his eyes. Far- rell realized that even witli the distraction of the game, he’d have no chance to launch a surprise attack on his enemy. Finally tlie Martian gambler rose. His colorless lips spread in a wide grin of anti- cipation. "We lost!" Tharp exclaimed. Farrell agreed, "We lost. Am-way, all we lost was a little duchal." The Martians gathered around the two Eartlimen; attached electrodes from tlie alien machine to Tharp’s head. Three minutes later, ’Tliarp still sat with the electrodes attached to his skull. Tlie Martians were impatient. "What's the matter?” ’Tliarp inquired an- grily. "The game between the Martians, it only took the loser a few seconds to pay the dudiair "Hiat’s right," Farrell agreed, "But look at tlie dial.” ’Tharp stared at the motionless instru- ment. “Duchal is an expression of mental or physical agony,” Farrell reminded him. "Concentrate and feel sorry you lost.” He assumed a thoughtful expression. The indicator wavered slightly. “Not so good. See, there are ten gradua- tions on tlie dial. The needle has to touch the tenth before you pay the amount of dudial you owe. ^ far, the needle hasn’t passed the first graduation. In other words, you haven’t paid a tenth of the dudial!” Tliarp drew his revolver. ’The Martians did not like the sight of a gun in an Earthman’s hand. Tlicy had no way of knowing that it was meant for Far- rell and not themselves. A dozen aliens threw themselves on Tliarp and quickly disarmed him. Ten Martians held an outraged Tharp motionless while an eleventh removed alien handcuffs from his tunic and placed pairs around his wrists and ankles. Farrell recovered his money. "Martians aren’t thieves,” he informed tlie angry man who struggled in vain at the metal bindings. "And therefore, they like to see ever}’one pay their debts. Thej ’il keep you here until you pay the wager. You see, by being behind the control board and push- ing the buttons, you’re the one who has to pay the duchal although I told you what buttons to push.” "A trick!” Tharp scre.imed. Tharp’s face reddened. “You won’t get far,” he threatened. "Til p.ay this dudial in a few minutes; thcv’ll let me free and I’ll—" "You don’t realize,” Farrell interrupted, "Martians are sickly, sensitive people and they’re adept at projecting sensations of agony from their brains. On the otlier hand, Eartlimen arc strong physically and know nothing about projecting physical or men- tal pain — ” He paused to watch tliree Martians who removed gle.iming, sharp knives from their tunics. They pressed the blades against Tliarp's arms. The knives cut through his coat, shirt and flesh. The clotli reddened quickly. “They want their dudial payment," Far- rell informed him. "They’ll get it if they have to slice you to ribbons.” Tliarp’s wild eyes stared at the dial be- fore him. ’Hie needle toudied the second graduation, then settled to the “O” position. "You see,” Farrell continued, "it’s a mat- ter of equivalent. Earthmen are so strong, they have to really suffer physically before they can match a duchal payment that a Martian can create as easy as snapping his fingers! ” Once more, the glittering knives bit into Tliatp’s flesh. He screamed w'ith pain. "Get help! Get help before they kill me!" Farrell went for help. But, once beyond the thick door that suddenly suffocated ’Tharp’s shrill screams of pain, he didn’t run for help. He walked slowly.

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LAST CALL FOR SECTOR 9G By LEIGH BRACKETT Otif fhere in fhe green star system; far beyond the confining grip of fhe Federation, moved the feared Bitter Star, for a thousand frigid years fhe dark and sinister manipulator of war-weary planets. 4RT1E said monotonously, "Tliere is /A someone at tlie door sir shall I an- J. A. swer? There is someone at the door sir .'dull I — " >Jurliam grunted. What he wanted to ■was go away and let me alone. But he Id only gaint, and Artie kejst repeating ^/Stupid question. Artie was a cheap oft- brand make, and bought used, and he lack- ed some cogs. Any first class servall would have seen that tlie master had passed out in his chair and was in no condition to re- ceive guests. But Artie did not, and present- ly Durham got one eye open and tlien he began to hear the persistent knocking, die annunciator being naturally out of order. And he said quite clearly. "If it’s a creditor. I'm not in. ’ " — shall I answer? " Durham made a series of noises. Artie took them for an affirmative and trundled off. Durham put his face in his hands and struggled with the pangs of returning con- sciousness. He could hear a mutter of voices in die hall. He thought suddenly diat he recognized them, and ne sprang, or rather stumbled up in alarm, hastily comb- ing his hair with his fingers and trying to pull the wrinkles out of his tunic. Through a thick haze he saw the bottle on the table and he picked it up and hid it under a chair, ashamed not of its emptiness but of its label. A gentleman should not be drunk on stuff like that. Paulsen and Burke came in. Durham stood stiffly beside the table, hanging on. He looked at die two men. “Well,” he said. "It's been quite a long lime.” He turned to Artie. "The gentlemen are leaving.” Burke stepped quickly behind the servall and pushed the main toggle to Ol'F. Artie stopped, with a sound ridiculously like a tired sigh. Paulsen went past him and lock- ed die door. Then both of dicm turned again to face Durham. Durham scowled. "What die devil do you think you're doing?” Burke and Paulsen glanced at each other, as though resolve had carried them this f.ir but h.id now run out, leaving them irreso- lute in die face of some distasteful t.t.sk. Both men wore black dominos, wiili tlie cowls thrown back. "Were you afraid you’d be recognized coming here?” Durham said. A small puke of fright began to beat in him, and this w as idiotic. It made him angry. "What do you want?” Paulsen said in a reluctant voice, not looking at him, "i don’t want anjtliing, Durham, believe me.” Durham had onic been engaged to Paulsen’s sister, a thing bodi of diem preferred not to remember but couldn’t quite forget. He went on, "We were sent here.” Durham tried to think who might li.;ve sent them. Certainly not any of die girls; certainly not any one of the people he owed money to. Two members of the Terran World Embassy corps, even young and still obscure members in the lower echelons, were above either of those missions. "Who sent you?” Burke said, "Hawtree.” "No,” said Durham. "Oh no, you got the name wrong. Hawtree wouldn't send for me if 1 was the last man in the galaxy. Hawtree, indeed.” "Hawtree,” said Paulsen. He drew a deep breath and threw aside his domino. "Come on, Burke.” 59

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5' Burke took off his domino. They came on togetlier. Durham drew back. His shoulders drop- ped and his fists came up. "Look out," he said. "What you going to do? Look out!” "All right,” said Burke, and they both jumped together and caught his arms, not because Durham was so big or so powerful that he frightened them, but because they disliked the idea of brawling with a drunken man. Paulsen said, "Hawtree w^ants you tonight, and he wants you sober, and that, damn it, is the way he's going to get you.” An hour and seven minutes later Dur- ham sat beside Paulsen in a ’copter with no insigne and watched the root of his apartment tower fall away beneath him. Burke had stayed behind, and Durham wore the Irishman’s domino with the cowl up over his head. Under tlie domino was his good suit, the one he had not sent to the paw nbtoket because he could not, as yet, quite endure being without one good suit. He was scrubbed and shaved and perfectly sober. Outside he did not look too bad. Inside he was a shambles. The ’copter fitted itself into a north- south lane. Paulsen, muffled in his cowl, sat silent. Durham felt a similar reluctance to speak. He looked out over ’The Hub, and tried to keep from thinking. Don’t run to meet it, don’t get your hopes jup. Whatever it is, let it happen, quietly. The city was beautiful. Its official name was Galactic Center, but it was called The Hub because that is what it was, the hub 61

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PLANET STORIES 62 and focus of a galaxy. It was the biggest city in the Milky Way. It covered almost the entire land area of the tliird planet of a Type G star that someone with a sense of humor had christened Pax. The planet was chosen originally because it was centrally located and had no inhabitants, and because it was within tlie limits of tolerance for the humanoid races. The others mostly needed special accommodations anyway. And so from a sweet green aiiy world witli nothing on it but trees and grass and a few mild-natured animals Tlie Hub had grown to have a population of something like ten billion people, spread horizontally and stacked up vertically and dug in undet- neatli, and every one of tliem was engaged in some governmental function, or in espio- nage, or in both. Intrigue was as much a part of life in The Hub as corpuscles are a part of blood. Tlie Hub boasted that it was the only inliabited world in space where no single grain of wheat or saddle of mut- ton was grown, where nothing was manu- factured and nobody worked at a manual job. Duiham loved it passionately. Both moons were in the sky now. One w as small and low. like a white pearl hung just out of reach. 'Ihe other was enormous. It had an atmosphere, and it. served as storehouse and supply base for the planet city, handling the billions of tons o> ship- p'.ng that kept it going. The two of them made a glorious spectacle - overhead, but Durham did not bother to see them. Tlie vast glow of the city paled them, made them unimportant. He was remembering how lie had seen it when he was fresh from Earth, for tlie first time — the supreme capit.il, beside which the world capitals were only toy cities, the heart and center of the galaxy where the decisions were made and the great men came and went. He was remembering how he had felt, how he liad been so sure of the future that he never g.ive it a .seconil thought. But something happened. What? l.iquor, they said. No, not Ikpior, the hell with them. I Ci’old always carry my drinks. Liquor, they said, and the accident. The accidMt. WeU, what of it? Didn’t other people have accidents? And anyway, nobody really got hurt out of it. He didn't, and the girl didn’t — what if she wasn’t his fiancee?— and the confidential file he had in the ’copter hadn’t fallen into anybody’s hands. So there wasn’t anything to that No. Not liquor and not tlie accident, no matter what they said. It was Hawtree, and a personal grudge because he, Durham, had had Hawtree's daughter out witli him in the ’copter that night. And so what? He was only engaged to Willa Paulsen, not married to her, and anyway Susan Hawtree knew what she was doing. She knew darn well. Hawtree, a grudge, and a little bad luck. Tliat’s what happened. And that’s all. The ’copter swerved and dropped onto a private landing stage attached to a pent- house. Durham knew it well, though he hadn’t seen it for over a year. He got out, aware of palpitations and a gone feeling in the knees. He needed a drink, but he knew tliat he would have to go inside first and he forced himself to stand up and walk beside Paulsen as though nothing had ever happened. The head high, the face proud and calm, just a touch of bitterness but not too much. Hawtree was alone in tlie living room. He glanced at Durham as he came in through the long glass doors. There was a servall standing in the corner, and Haw- tree said to it, "A drink for the gentleman, straight and stiff." A small anger stirred in Durham. Haw- tree might at least have given him the choice. He said sharply, "No thanks." Hawtree said, "Don't be a fool." He looked tired, but tlien he 'always had. Tired and keyed up, full of the drive and the brittle e.xcitement of one who has juggled peoples and nations, expressed as black marks on sheets of varicolored paper, for so long that it has become a habit as neces- sary and destructive as ha.shish. To Paulsen he said, "I’ll ring when I need you." Paulsen went out. The servall placed the drink in Durham’s hand. He did not refuse it. "Sit down,” said Hawtree, and Durham sat. Hawtree dismissed the servall. Durham drank part of his drink and felt better. "Well," he said. "I’m listening."

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G "You were a great disappointment to me, Durham.” "What am I supposed to say to tliat?" "Nothing, Go ahead, finish your drink, I want to talk to a man, not a zombie.” Durham finished it angrily. "If you brought me all the way liere to shake your finger at me. I’m going home again.” That was what he said aloud. Inside, he wanted to get down and embrace Hawtree's knees and beg him for another dunce. "I brought you here,” said Hawtree, "to offer you a job. If you do it, it might mean that certain doors could be opened for you again.” liurham sat perfectly still. For a moment hg'aid not trust himself to spe.'ik. Then he Said, 'Til take it.” Certain doors. That's what I’ve waited for, living like a bum, dodging creditors, hocking my shoes, waiting for those doors to open again. He tried not to show how he felt, sitting stiffly at ease in the chair, but a red flush began to burn in his cheeks and his hands moved. About time. About time, damn you, Hawtree, that you remembered me. Damn you, oh damn you for making me sweat so long! Hawtree said, "Did you ever hear of X^anta Dik?” "No. Wh.rt is it? " "A planet. It belongs to a green star system, chart designation KL421, Sub-sector SXj, Sector 80, Quadrant 7. It's a very iso- lated system, the only inhabited one in $>G, as a matter of fact. 9G is a Terran quota sector, and since Nanta Dik is humanoid, it's become headquarters for our nationals who arc engaged in business in tlut sub- sector.” Durh.im nodded. Unassimilated territory lying outside the Federation was divided among Federation members, allowing them to engage in trade only in their allotted sectors and subject to local law and license. Tliis eliminated competitive friction between Federation worlds, threw- open new areas to development, and eventually — usually under the sponsorship of the federated world — brought the quota sectors into the vast family of suns tliac had already spread G3 over more than half the galaxy. Tl>erc w ere abuses now- and again, but on the whole, as a system, it worked pretty well. "I take it that Nanta Dik is wlicie I'm going.” "Yes. Now listen. First thing in the morning, go and book a third-class passage to Earth on the Sylvania Merchml, leaving on the day following. Let your friend* know you're going home. Tlicy won't be surprised.” "Don’t nib it in.” "Sorry, 'WTien you reach the spaicport, walk across tlie main rotunda near the newsstand. Drop your ticket and your pass- port, folded together, go on to the news- stand and wait. They will be rctunie<l to you by a uniformed attendant, only your passport will be in a different name and your ticket will now be on a freighter out- bound for Nanta Dik. You will tlien em- bark at once. Is that all dear?” "Everything but die reason.” "I'll come to that. How good is your memory.’ " "As good as it e\er was.” "All right. 'VC'hen you reach Nanta Dik a man w'ill meet you as you leave the ship. He will ask if you are tlie ornithologist. You will say yes. Tlien — pay close attention to tliis — you will say, darkbirds will soon fly. Got that?” "The darkbirds will soon fly. Simple enough. 'What's it mean?" "9G is a rich sector, isolated, improperly policed, underpopulated. There has been a certain amount of trouble, caching, claim jumping, outright piracy. 'The 'darkbirds' are a couple of suspected ships. We want to set a trap for them, and you know how things are on The Hub, If a man buys a pair of socks, tlie news is all across the galaxy in a week. That’s tlie reason for all the secrecy.” "Is that all?” "No.” Hawtree got up, turning Ills back on Durham. He said harshly, ''Listen, Lloyd.” It was the first time he had used Durham’s Christian name. "Tliis is an im- portant job. It may not seem like one, but it is, Do it. There’s somebody else who wanted you to have another chance.” Durham did not say anything. Fie waited for Haw tree to turn around and face him

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PLA.VET STORIES &l and say the name. But he didn't, and finally Durham said, "Susan.^” "I don't know what she sees in you," said Hawtree, and pushed a button. Paulsen came in. Hawtree jerked a thumb at Dur- ham. "Take him back. And tell Burke to give him the money.” Durham went out and got into the 'copter. He felt dizay, and this time it was not from drinks or the lack of tliem. He sat, and Paulsen took the 'copter off. Haw tree watched it from inside the glass doors until it was out of sight above the roof. And another man came from behind a door that led into Hawtrcc's private study, and watched it with him. “Are you sure about him?” asked the man. “I know him,” Hawtree said. “He's a slob.” “But are you sure?" “Don’t worry, Morrison,” Hawtree said. “I know him. He'll talk. Bet you a himdred he never even makes the spaceport.” “Blc-ssed are the fools,” said Morrison, “for they shall inherit nothing.” II BAYA sat on the bed and watched him pack. She was from one of the worlds of Mintaka, and as humanoid as tlicy came, not very tall but very well shaped, and colored one beautiful shade of old bronze from tlie crown of her head to the solos of her feet, except for her mouth, which was a vivid red. “It seems funny,” she said, “to think of you not being here tomorrow.” “Will you die of missing me? " “Probably, for a day or two. I was com- fortable. I hate upheavals.”. Durham reached across her for his small stack of underwear. She was wearing the ellow silk thing that made her skin glow y contrast. He saw that it was dubiously clean about tlie neck, and when he paused to kiss her he noticed the tiny lines around her mouth and eyes, the indefinable look of wear and hardness that w'as more de- structive to beauty than the mere passing of years. Yesterday they had been two of a kind, part of tlie vast backwash left be- hind by other people's successes. Today he was far above her. And he was glad. “The least you could do,” she said, “would be to make this a really big eve- ning. But I suppose you couldn't tun to that.” “I’ve got money.” Burke had given him some, but that was for expen.scs and he would neither mention it nor touch it. “Artie brought a pretty good price, so did the furniture.” 'riicre was nothing left in the apartment but the bed, and even that was sold. He h.ad bought back a few of his better belonging.^, and he still had a wad of credits. He felt good. He felt joyous and expansive. He felt like a man again. He poured two drinks and handed one to Baya. "All right,” he said, "here's to a big last evening. Tlie biggest." They had cocktails in a bar called The Moonraker because it was the highest point in that hemisphere of the city. It was the hour between sunset and moonrise, when the towers stood sharply defined against a sky of incredible dark blucnes.s, wiUi the brighter stars pricked out in it, and the dim canyons at the feet of the towers were lost in the new night, spectral, soft and lovely. And the night deepened, and the lights came on. Tliey wandered for a while among the high flung walkways tliat spanned the upper levels of the towers so that people neecl not spend half their lives in elevators. They skirted the vast green concourse from wdiich the halls of government rose up white and unadorned and splendid. Tliey only skirted one corner of it, because this galactic Capi- tol Hill ran for miles, dominating the whole official complex, and one enormous build- ing of it was fitted up so that the non- humanoid Members of Universal Parliament could “attend” the sessions in comfort, never leaving their especially pressurized and congenially poisonous suites. Bctw'cen humanoid and non-humanoid there were many scientific gradations of form. But for governmental purposes it boiled down simply to oxygen-breather or non-oxygen- breather. “Human or not,” said Durham, standing on an upper span, with the good liquor burning bright inside him, “human or not,

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65 LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G they’re only men like me. What they’ve done, I can do.” 'This is dull,” said Baya. "Dull,” said Durham. He shook his head in wonderment, staring at her. She was beautiful. Tonight she wore white, and her hair curled softly on her neck, and her mouth was languorous, and her eyes — her eyes were hard. They were always hard, always making a liar out of that pliant, generous mouth. "Dull,” he said. "No won- der you never got anywhere.” She flared up at tliat, and said a few things about him. He knew they were no longer true, so he could afford to be amused by them. He smiled and said, .-TLct’s not quarrel, Baya. Tliis is good- bye, remember. Come on, we’ll have a drink at the Miran.” They floated down on the bright spider web levels of the walkways, drifting east, stopping at the Miran and tlien going on to another drinking place, and then to an- other. The walks were thronged with other people, people from hundreds of stars, thousands of worlds. People of an infinite variety of sizes, shapes and colors, dressed in every imaginable and unimaginable fashion. Ambassadors, MP’s, wives and mistresses, couriers, calculator jockeys, topologists and graph men, ottice girls, hair- dressers, janitors, pimps, you-name-it. Dur- ham saw them tiuough a golden haze, and loved them, because they w ere the city and he was a part of them again. He was out of the backwash of not-being. Hawtree had had to give in, and this foot- ling errand to some dust speck nobody ever heard of was simply a necessary device to save his own face. All riglit, Hawtree, fine. We will go along with the gag. And you may inform tlie haughty Miss Hawtree, who can, believe us, be also the n.aughty Miss Hawtree, that we don’t know if we w’ant her back or not. \X'e 11 see. " — take me with you,” Baj a was saying. Durham shook his head. "Lone trip, honey. Can’t possibly.” '’Are you ashamed of me, Lloyd? Tliat’s it, you’re ashamed to take me to Earth.” ’’No. No. Now, Baya — ” He looked at her. His vision was a bit blurred by now, he could see just enough S — Planet- — Summer background to wonder how the devil they’d got to tliis closed-in-looking drinking place. But Baya’s face was clear enough, fee was crying. “Now, Baya, honey, it’s not that — it’s not that at all.” "Then why can’t I go with you to Earth?” "Because — listen, Baya, can you keep a secret? ” He laughed, and his own laughter sounded blurred too. "Promise?” "Promise.” "I—”. Dead stop. The words rattled on his tongue, fet remained unspoken. Why? Was it because of Baya’s eyes, tliat wept tears but had no sorrow in them? He could see them quite clearly, and tliey were not sorrowful at all, but avid. "I promised, Lloyd. You can tell me.” 'Hiere was a table under his hands, with an exotically patterned cloth on it. He had no memory of having sat down at it. There was a wall of plasticoid cement covered with a crude mural in bright primaries. There was a low, vaulted ceiling, also painted. There were no windows. "How did we get here?” Durham asked stupidly. "It’s underground.” "It’s just a place,” Baya said impatiently. And then she said sharply, "What’s tlie matter with you?” Blood and fumes hammered together in his bulging temples, and his back felt cold. "Where’s the men’s room, Baya?” Her mouth set in anger and disgust. Slie called, "Varnik! ” A tall powerful man with a very long neck and &in the color of a ripe plum came up to tlie table. He wore an apron. Baya said, "Better take him tliere, ’Varnik.” The plum colored man took him and ran him to a door and put him through it. From there a servall took over. It was very efii- cient. "Are you through, sir?” ■’God, no. Not nearly.” One more word and you would have been through. Forever. Drunken blabbermoutli Elurham, smart aleck Durham, would-be big shot Durham, ready to babble out his secret and blow his last chance of a come-

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VLANET STORIES Cfi back. But why did Bay.i have to be so in- sistently curious? Why, indeed? He began to £tel both sick and scared. After a time he made it to the row of basins and splashed cold water on his face and head. There was a mirror above the basin. He looked into it. ‘'Hello, bum," he said. Face it, Durham. You’re a drunken bum. You are exactly what Willa Paulsen said you were, what Susan Hawtree said you were, what tliey all said you were. You get a second chance, and you go right out and get drunk and blow it Or, almost. Another minute and you’d have blabbed everything you know to Baya. Bay.a, w'ho cried because he wouldn't tell her: who had brought hini to this rathole. He took a clearer look at it when he went shakily out of the men’s room. The place was almost empty, and it had a close, smothery feeling. Durham had never liked these underground streets, this vaguely un- savory demi-world that wound itself around the found.itions of the city. It was con- sidered .smart to go slumming here, but this place w'as somehow wrong. There w ere a man and woman at a table across the room, a young, pale green couple w ho pretended too carefully not to see him. 'J'hcre was Vamik, the plum colored pro- prietor, at a tall desk beside the main door. And there was Baya at their table. She handed him a glass when he came over. "Feel better? I otoered you a sedative." Without sitting down he put the gla.ss to his lips. It did not taste like any sedative lie could remember, and he thought he had tried them all. "I don’t want it.” "Don’t be a fool, Lloyd. Take it." Her eyes were cold now, and he was suddenly ijuite sure evhy he had been brought here. Durham said softly, "Good night, tramp. Good night and good-bye.” He ran around the table and made a tush for the entrance. ■Varnik stepped from the tall desk to bar his way, holding out a piece of paper. "Sit,” he said. "Your check.” Durham heard three chairs scrape behind liim. He did not pause. He bent and drove the point of his shoulder as hard as he tould at a spot just above Varnik’s wide belt. 'Varriik let go a gasping sigh and wheeled away. Durham went out the door. The underground street was brightly lighted. It ran straight to right and left, under a low roof, and disappeared on eitlier hand around a right angle turn. Durham went to the left for no particular reason. There were people on the street. He dodged among them, running. They stopped and stared at him, and there was an echo of other feet beliind him, also running. He sped around the cornet, and it occurred to him tliat he was completely lost, that he did not even know what part of the city lay above him, or how far. There were different levels to this under-city, following dow'n the foundations, tlie conduits and tubes and sewers and pumping stations. For the first time he began to feel genuinely trapped, and genuinely afraid. The street ran straight ahead until it ended against a buttressed foundation wall. 'There were doors and w'indows on either side of it. People lived here. Tliere were joints, some fancy-exotic for tlie carriage trade, others just joints. A couple of smaller streets opened oS it, darker and more wind- ing. Durham plunged into one, pausing briefly to look back. Fleeting like deer around the corner were the young pale green couple who had sat at the other table in Varnik’s. There was something about the purposeful way tliey ran that sent a quiver of pure terror through Durham's insides. He ran again, as hard as he could, wondering who the devil they were and what tliey wanted with him. 'What did anyone want with him, and the small bit of a secret that he carried? The narrow street wound and twined. Clearly echoing along the vault of the roof he could hear footsteps. One. Two. Coming fast. He saw an opening no wider than a crack in tlie wall. He turned into it. It was quite dark in there and he knew he could not go much farther, and that fact added to his burden of shame. There had been a time wdien this much of a sprint would hardly have breathed him. He tottered on, looking for a place to hide in, and there wasn’t any, and his heart banged and floundered against his ribs, and

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G the muscles of his thighs were like wet strings. There was a square opening with blank walls all around it and a great big manhole cover in the middle. Tliere was the way he had come in, and- there was another narrow way he might have come out, but Varnik was coming through it, tunning a little crooked and breathing hard. He stopped when he saw Durham. Baya, panting up behind, almost tan into him. Varnik grunted and sprang. With feeble fierceness, Durham resisted. It got him nowhere. The plum colored man struck him several times out of pure pique, cursing Durham for malcing trouble, for bruising his gut, for making him run like this. Baya stood by and watched. "Will you behave now?" Varnik de- manded. He whacked Durham again, and Durham glared at him out of dazed ej'es and felt the world tilt and slide away from him. Suddenly there were new voices, footsteps, confusion. He fell, what seemed a long way but was really only to his hands and knees. The young couple had come into tlie square space. They were small lithe people, muscled like ocelots, and tlieir skin color was a pale green, very pretty, and character- istic of several different races, but no good for identification here. The girl’s tunic had slipped aside over the breast, and the skin there was a clear gold, like new country butter. They both had guns in their strong little fists, and they were speaking over Durham to Varnik and Baya. “We will question this man alone.” "Oh, no,” said Varnik angrily. "You don’t get away wdth tliat.” Baya bent over Durham. "Come on, lover,” she said. "Get up.” Her voice was cooing. To the stran- gers she said, ‘"That wasn’t out deal at all." "You fail^,” said the girl with the two- colored skin, and she fired a beam with frightening accuracy, exactly between tliem. A piece of the wall behind them fused and flared. Varnik ’s eyes came wide open. “Well,” he said. "Well, if that’s tlie way you feel about it.” He turned. Baya hesitated, and the muz- zle of the gun began to move her way. She C7 snarled something in her own language and decided to go after Varnik. Durham got his hands and feet bunched under him. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew that once he was left alone with the two small fleet strangers he would eventually talk, and after tliat it would not matter much what happened to him. He said to them, hopefully, "You have the wrong man. I don’t know — ” Tliere were tlie five of them in the small space. 'There were the two couples facing each other, and Durham on his knees be- tween them. And tlien there was something else. Tliere was a spiky shadow, perfectly black, of undetermin^ size and nameless shape, except tliat it was spiky. Baya did not quite scream. Slie pressed against Varnik, and tliey both recoiled into the alley mouth. The young couple paled under their greenness, and they, too, drew back. Durham crouched on the ground. The shadow bounded and rolled and leaped through the air and hung cloudlike over Durham’s head. Suddenly it slirieked out, in a high, toneless voice like that of a deaf diild, a clatter of gibberish in which one syllable stood clear, repeated several times. "Jubb!" said the shadow. "Jubb! Jubbl Jubb!” Ill UBB. It might have been a name, a curse, or a battle cry. Whatever it was, the young couple did not like it Their faces twisted into slim masks of hate. They raised their' guns at tlie shadow, and the rfiadow laughed. Abruptly it bunched up small and shot at tliem. Durham heard tliem yell, in pain or fright or both, and he heard tlieir running feet, but he did not see what happened to them. He was going away himself, down the narrow alley that Varnik and Baya were no longer interested in blocking. When he reached the end of the alley he came out onto a well lighted street with lots of people on it but he still did not fee! safe. Varnik and Baya were not far away. Baya

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68 PLA.\Kr STORIES was leaning against a wall, with her mouth w'idc open. She was not used to running. \'arnik was standing be.side her looking .sulky. He scowled at Durham when he came out of the alley. Durh.im stopped, bracing himself and ready to jell for help. But Varnik shook his head. "Nyuh!" he .said. Baya panted. "What’s the matter, you afraid?” ■ yes," said Varnik. "Those two little green ones, they are not playing for fun. And that black one — ” He quivered all over. "I'm afraid. I see j'ou again, Baya.” 1 Ic went away. Baya was close onto tears, partly from her own fright, partly from sheer fury and frustration. But she did not cry. She turned and looked at Durham. "What got into you?” she said. "It was all set. and then you had to louse it up.” She cursed him. "It’s just like you, Lloyd, to cost me a nice chunk of money.” "Who are those people, Baya?” "They didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask." "Total strangers, elr?” "Turned up this afternoon at my apart- ment. 1 should think you could tell. They’re not the type I mn with.” "No." He frowned, still breathing hard and wiping sweat from his face. "How did they know about us?” She shrugged, and said maliciously, "Somebody must have told them. Well, so long, Lloyd. I wish you all the luck you deserve.” She walked off slowly, patting her hair into place, straightening the line of her w hite dress. She did not look back. Durham watched her for a second. Then he began to walk as fast as he could in the opposite direction, keeping in the brightest lights. After a bit he found a stairwalk. He rode up on it through two levels, and all the while the roots of his hair were prickling and he was darting nervous glances over his slioiihler and into the air over his head. Jubh. Jubb, Jubb. lie envied 'Varnik who could go away and forget the whole thing. It was still night when he reached the surface. The shadow did not seem to have followed him, but how could you tell? Even a city as brilliantly lighted as The Hub al- ways has shadow'y corners by night. He kept listening for that high, flat, hooting voice. It did not speak to him, and he hailed a skyc.ab, appalled by how little time he had left to catch the pre-dawn ferry. He made it with no minutes to spare. He found a place on the dark side and settled himself for the four-hour run, and then everything caught up to him at once and he began to shake. He sat there in the grip of a violent reaction, living over again Hawtree’s instructions and the evening with Baya and the nightmare run through the underground strec-ts, and the coming of the shadow. The dark birds will soon fly. Was tliat enough for people to kill for? It might be if they had an interest in those ships, but the young couple did not look the type. And the shadow? He shivered and looked out the port. The long thin shadow of the ship extended it- self indefinitely into space, but all around it there was light, and the curc'e of the planet below was a blaze of gold. Down there was Hawtree and a big part of his life. Above and ahead was the huge cool face of the moon, and that was the future, all unexplored. Durham clenched his cold hands together between his knees and thought. I've got to do this, stay sober and do it, a little for Hawtree but mostly for myself. A man can’t look at himself twice the way I did tonight. Once is all he can stand. And once ought to be enough. The briglitness blurred and swam. Pres- ently he slept, and his dreams were thronged with shadows hooting, "Jubb! Jubb! Jubb!” Four hours later Durham walked across the vast main rotunda of the lunar space- port, dropping his little bundle of passport and ticket as casually as he could. He con- tinued on to the newsstand and made a pretense of looking over the half credit microbooks, waiting. While he waited he wondered. He won- dered how the young couple had known about Baya. He wondered wdiat the shadow was and where it came from, and why it had defended him from the young couple, and what was the meaning of the ratlicr ridiculous word "Jubb.” He wondered if he wasn’t crazy not to pick up his ticket to Earth and use it. He wanted a drink very badly.

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G A uniformed attendant came and said, ■'I think you dropped this, sir." He held out a passport with a ticket folded in it. Durham examined them, put them in his pocket, and tipped the attend- ant, who went away. Durham bought three microbooks and moved on. He could not see anybody watching him, and he told himself it was only nerves that made the skin creep on his back as though eyes were boring into it. The switch had been made all right on his papers. His name was now John Mills Watson and he had a passage to Nanta Dik sdsoard the freighter Margaretta K. He still wanted a drink. He was determined drat he would not go and get it, and he headed grimly for a stairwalk that led down to the port cab system. He had almost stepped onto it, and then from the loud- speakers all over tlie huge rotunda a voice boomed out, saying, "Mr. Lloyd Durham, please come to die Information Desk.” Durham flinched as diough somebody had struck him. He thought, Hawtree’s sent word to recall me. Perhaps it was a trap. E APPROACHED the desk cautiously, while his name continued to blare fortli from die loudspeakers. Somebody was standing there. A woman, with her back to him. He had not seen that back for over a year, not since the night of the accident, but he had not forgotten it. "Hello, Susan,” he said. She turned around, and he added bitterly, "He needn’t have sent you.” He was con- vinced now tiiat slie had come to call him back. She seemed surprised. "Who?” “Your father.” "Dad? Good heavens, Lloyd, you don't suppose he knows I’m here!” She was tall, as he remembered her, and handsome, and beautifully dressed, and very self-assured. She smiled, one of those brittle things with no humor in it, and tlien she asked, “How loim have you before take-off? ” Durham said slowly, “Time enough.” "We can’t talk here.” "No. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” They walked in silence to the crowded. 69 noisy spaceport bar. They found a place and sat down. Durham ordered. Susan Hawtree sat opening and closing her handbag as though the operation was of tlie most ab- sorbing interest. He asked, “Why did you come here?” "It seemed as though somebody ought to say good-bye.” “Who told you I was leaving?” “I have a friend in the travel office. She tells me if anybody I know books passage, home.” “Convenient.” “Yes.” The drinks came. Tliere was a clatter of voices, speaking in a thousand tongues, laughing, crying, saying hello and good-bye and till we meet again. Susan turned her glass round and round in her fingers, and Durham watched her. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. Sorry everything could not have turned out better.” "Yes. So am I.” “I hope you’ll have better luck at home.” “Thanks.” Another silence in which Durham tried hard to figure her angle. He said, "I heard you tried to talk your father into giving me anotlier chance. Thanks for that.” She stared at him blankly and shook her head. “You know how Dad feels about you. Tve never dared mention your name.” A cold feeling settled in the pit of Dur- ham’s stomach. There's somebody else, Lloyd, who wanted you to have another chance. Fatherly intuition? Or a big fat lie? Let’s face it, Durham, why w'ould Haw- tree send you on a mission to the dog pound? There are ten billion people on The Hub. He could have found somebody else. llie w hole business smells. It recks. But wait. Suppose he sent Susan here to test me; to sec if I’d talk? Not too be- lievable, but a pleasanter belief tlian the alternative. Let’s see. “Susan. Look, I can say this now because I’m going home and that’s the end of it. We won’t see each otlier any more. I sliould never have got engaged to Willa, I didn t love her. It was you all the time. ” He caught the quick glint of teats in

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7t) FLAyET STORIES her eyes and was appalled. Tears for liim? I'rom Susan Hawtrcc? "That’s wliy I went with you that night,” she wlnspered. "I thought I could take you from licf. I thought I could make you be what you ought to be — oh, damn you, Lloyd, I should never have come here!” She jumped up and walked rapidly away from tlie table. He followed her, with ids eyes and his mouth botli v ide open and something very strange happening inside him. One thins sure. She was no plant. ..o M* ‘ Susan. "Don’t you have to get aboard, or some- thing?" "Yes, but — Susan, ride down with me, I want to talk to you.” ’’I’hcre’s nothing to talk about.” But she went to the stairwalk with liim. and rode down, her face turned avsay and her head held so high she seemed to tower over him. "Susan,” he said. "Do you think — could you give me — ” No, that’s not the gambit. But what do you say — Susan, I’m a changed man. Susan, wait for me? TIjc stairwalk slid them gently off onto a very long platform. T'herc was a crowd on it, sorting itself into the endless lines of pur- ple mdnorail taxis that moved along both sides. "Susan.” "Good-bye, Lloyd.” "No, wait a minute. Please. I don’t know quite how' — ” Suddenly they were not alone. A young couple had joined them. The color of their skin had changed from pale green to a warm burnt orange, and their clothing was different, but DurJiam recognised them without difficulty. A hard deject prodded him in the side, and the young man, smil- ing, said to him, "Get into tliat cab.’' The young w'oman, also smiling, said to Susan

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G Hawttee, "Don’t scream. Keep perfectly quiet." Susan’s face went white. She looked at Durham, and Durham said to the young man, "Let her go, she has nothing to do with thisi” "Get in the cab," said the young man. "Both of you.” "I tliink,” said Susan, "we’d better do it.” They got in. The doors closed automati- cally behind them. The young man, with his free hand, took out a ticket and laid it in the scanner slot, with tlie code number of the ship’s docking area uppermost. 'Ihe taxi clicked, hummed, and took off smooth- ¥■ Durham saw the ticket as tlie young man f^.removed it from the scanner. It was a pas- '■-yge to Natita Dik aboard the freighter iargaretta K. The monorails came out onto the surface in bunches like very massive cables and tlien began to branch out, the separate "wires” of the cables eventually spreading into a network that covered the entire moon. The taxi picked up speed, clicking over points as it swerved and swung, feeling its way onto the one dear track that led where its scanner had told it to go. Durham was aware obliquely of other monorail taxis in uncountable num- bers going like the devil in all directions, and of other types of machines moving below on the surface, and of mobile cranes that walked like buildings, and of an hori- zon filled with the upthrust noses of great ships like the towers of some fantastic city. Beside him Susan Hawtree sat, rigid and quivering, and before him on the opposite seat were tlie two young people with the guns. Durham said, in a voice thick with anger and fright, "Why did you have to drag her into it?” The man shrugged. "She is perhaps part of the conspiracy. In any case, she would have made an alarm.” "What do you mean, conspiracy? I’m going home to Earth. She came to say good- bye— ” Durham Ic-aned forward. "You’re 71 the same two bastards from last night. What do you — ” "Please,” said tlie man, contemptuously. He gestured with the gun. "You will both sit still with your hands behind your heads. So. Wanbecq-ai will search you. If either one should attempt to interfere, the other will suffer for it.” The wiry young woman did her work swiftly and efficiently. "No weapons," she said. "Hail Wanbccq, look here!” Shd be- gan to gabble in a strange tongue, pointing to Durham’s passport and ticket, and then to Susan’s ID card. Wanbecq’s narrow eyes narrow'ed still further. "So,” he said to Durham. "Your name has changed since yesterday, Mr. Watson. And for one who returns to Sol III, you choose a long way around.” Su^ stared hard at Durham. "What’s he talking about?” "Never mind. Listen, you — Wanbecq, it that your name? Miss Hawtree has nothing to do with any of this. Her father — ” "Is a part of the embassy which tent you out," said Wanbecq, flicking Susan’t ID card with his finger. "Do not expect me to believe foolishness, Mr. Watson- Durham.” He spoke rapidly to Wanbecq-ai. She nodded, and they both turned to Susan. "Obviously you were sent with instruc- tions for Mr. Durham. Will you tell us now what they were?” Susan’s Lace was such a blank of amaze- ment that Durham would have laughed if the situation had not been so extremely unfunny. "Nobody sent me with anything. No- body even knows I came. Lloyd, are these He said, "I'm not siifc myself. But I think there are only two possibilities. One, your father is a scoundrel. Two, he’s a fool being used by scoundrels. Talre your pick. In cither case. I’m the goat.” Her white cheeks turned absolutely crim- son. She tried twice to say something to Durham. Then she turned and said to the Wanbecqs, "I’ve had enough of this. Let me out.” They merely glanced at her and went on talking. "You might as well relax,” said Durham

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PLANET STORIES 72 to her, in colloquial English, hoping the Wanbecqs could not understand it. "I'm sorry you got into this, and I’ll try to get you out, but don’t do anything silly.” She called him a name she had never learned in the Embassy drawing rooms. There was a manual switch recessed in the body of the taxi, high up, and sealed in with a special plastic. It said EMERGENCY on it. Susan took off her shoe and swung. The plastic shattered. Susan dropped the shoe and grabbed for the switch. W'anbccq yelled. Wanbccq-ai leaped headlong for Susan and bore her back onto the scat. She was using her gun flatwise in her hand, solely as a club. Susan let out one furious wail. And Durluim, moving more by in- stinct than by conscious thought, grabbed Wanbccq-ai’s uplifted arm and pulled her over squalling onto his lap. Wanbecq started forsvard from the oppo- site seat. "Don't,” said Durham. He had Wanbccq- ai's wrist in one hand and her neck in the other, and he was not being gentle. Wan- becq-ai covered him, and the two of them together covered Susan. Wanbecq stood with his knees bent for a spring, his gun flicking back and forth uncertainly. Wan- beeq ai had stopped squalling. Her face was turning dark. Susan huddled where she \va.s, half stunned. Durham shifted his grip on VX-'anbecq-ai’s arm and got the gun into his own hand. "Now,” he said to Wanbecq. "Drop it." Wanbecq dropped it. Durham scrabbled it in with his heel until it was between his own feet. Tlien he heaved Wanbecq-ai forcibly at her husband. It was like heaving a tag doll, and while Wanbecq was doaling with her Durham managed to pick up the other gun. Susan lifted her head. She looked around with glassy eyes and then, with single- minded persistence, she got up. Durham said sharply, "Sit dow n! ” Susan reached up for the emergemy. Durham smacked her across the stomach w ith the back of his left hand, not daring to take his eyes off the Wanbecqs. She doubled over it and sat down again. Dur- ham said, "All right now, damn it, all of you -sit still!" The taxi sped on its humming rail, far- ther and farther into the reaches of the spaceport. Below tliere were the wide clear spaces of tire landing aprons, and great ships standing in them, their tails down and their noses high in the ait, high above tlie monorail, towering over the freight belts and the multitude of machines that served them. Ahead there was the onracing edge of twilight, and beyond it, coming swiftly, was the lunar night. Durham said to Wanbecq, "What’s this all about?” Wanbecq sneered. "You know," said Durham, "there’s a law against changing the color of your skin for the purpose of committing crimi- nal acts. That's so the wrong people won’t get blamed. There’s a law against carrying letlial weapons. There is even, humorously enough, a law against espion.ige on The Hub. You know I’m going to turn you over to the authorities?" Again Wanbecq sneered. He was a hate- ful little man, but be looked so young and so proudly martyred that Durham almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Not quite. "On second thought,” he said, "I guess I’ll save you both for Jubb.” That was a random shot, prompted by tlie memory’ of how their faces looked when the shadow-thing had squealed that word at them. It hit. Wanbecq's face be- came distorted with a fanatic hatted, and Wanbecq-ai, rubbing her throat, croaked, "Then you are in league with The Beast." She pronounced that name with unmis- t.ikable capitals. "Who said I was?" asked Durham. "The darkbird came to help you. It told us Jubb had claimed you." "It did," said Durham softly, "did it?" The dark birds will soon fly. The dark birds merely refer to a couple of ships engaged in poaching. That's what you say, Mr. Hawtree. "What is a darkbird? You mean that shadow thing?" "They are the servants, the familiars of The Beast," said Wanbecq. "The instru- ments by which he hopes to enslave all humanity. Do not pretend, Mr. Durham.”

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LAST CALL FKOM SECTOR 9G "I’m not. This Jubb — wliat is he beside The Beast?" Wanbecq stared at him, and Durham made a menacing gesture. "Come on, I want to know.” "Jubb is the ruler of Senya Dik," "And Senya Dik?” "Our sister planet. A dark and evil sister, plotting our destruction. A demon sister, Mr. Durham. Have you ever heard of the Bitter Star?” "I never heard of any of it but I find it very interesting. Go on.” "Whoever controls the darkbirds controls Jlie Star, and whoever controls the Star can e.stroy anything he wishes. This is Jubb." vVanbecq thrust out his hands. "You're hu- man, Mr. Durham. If you have sold your soul, take it back again. Fight with us, not against us.” "1 assume,” said Durham, "that Jubb is not human.” Wanbecq-ai made an abrupt sound of disgust. "This is silly, Mr. Durham. If you know so little why are you going to Nanta Dik at all?” Durham did not answer. He did not have any answ'er to that one. Wondered if ever he would have it. "If you are so ignorant,” continued Wan- becq-ai viciously, "of course you don't know that the Terran consul Karlovic is over his head in intrigue, conniving with Jul>b in order to make this treaty of Federation.” Durham sat up straight. "A treaty of what?" "The sector,” said Wanbecq slowly, "will belong either to the human race or to the be.ist, but it cannot belong to both.” "Federation,” said Durham, answering his own question. And suddenly many formless things began to fit togetlicr into a shape that w'as still cloudy but had a sinister solidity. In order for a solar system to become a member of the Federation its member planets were required to have achieved unity among themselves, with common citizenship, a common council, common laws. And in order for a sub- sector to become federated, all its solar sys- tems must have readied a like accord. In this case, since the system of the two Diks was the only inhabited one in the sub-scctor, the two things were tlie same. 73 The fate of 9G rested solely on the behavior of tw'O planets. If 9G remained unfederated, the com- pany or comp.anies engaged in mining or Other business under local license could continue to operate in almost any way they chose as long as they kept the local officials happy. They could strip the whole area of its mineral resources, pile up incredible fortunes, and leave the native worlds with nothing. But if 9G became a member of the Federation, Federation law would im- mediately step in, and Federation enforce- ment of same, and if there were any abuses of native rights, the people responsible would suffer for it. Postulate a company. Postulate a connec- tion between it and Hawtree. Postulate and postulate. At around three hundred miles an hour the taxi plunged into the twilight zone. Light sprang on automatically. Outside it became dark very swiftly, and tbe darkness roared, and glittered with a million lamps. "Who,” asked Durham, "is principally against your two worlds uniting so that the treaty can go through?” "All of us,” said Wanbecq fiercely. "Shall we give up our rights, our independ- ence, our human institutions, everything our race has stood for—” Wanbecq-ai cried out, "We will never unite, never! No one can force us to betray our species!” Susan began to cry. "Please,” said Durham. "Baby, You're all right.” "You hit me.” "I had to. I'll apologize later. Be quiet now, Susan, please.” He turned back to the Wanbecqs. "Everybody on Nanta Dik feels that way?” "Tlrere are traitors everywhere,” said Wanbecq darkly. "Some of them, unfortu- nately, ate in positions of power.” "They won't be for long, " said Wan- becq-ai. "Look here, Mr. Durham, 'you're going to Nanta Dik with a message. We aren't the only ones w ho want to know what it is. Jubb has sent a darkbird for you. Take my advice. Tell us your message and go back to The Flub, " Susan said in a nasty muffled voice, "You're insane. Nobody would trust him

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PLANET STORIES 74 with a message to the milkman. He lost his job because he couldn’t be trusted.” Without tiuicor, Durham said, '”Vou’re absolutely right, darling. And wouldn't it be strangely fitting if that's why I got my jc^ back again?” fie said to the Wanbccqs, "Somebody tipped you off about me. Who?” "We know him only as a friend of hiuiianity. ” "Somebody must liave sent you here from Nanta Dik.” "On our world there are many friends of humanity. Think of them, Mr. Durham, when y-(ju kiss tlie Bitter Star.” rjlHIT taxi slow ed, .strongly, smoothly. The J- blurred panorama of lights and ships became separable into individual shapes. Durh.im stared out ahead. There was the squat form of a freighter, ugly and im- mensely powerful, on a landing apron only partially lighted. The MargareUa K. Durham asked, "Who owns her?” "I Iniversal Minerals.” "And who owns l-hiiversal Minerals?” "Several people, I think, all Tarthmen.” "Who .speaks for l.Iniversal Minerals on Nanta Dik?" A little reluctantly, Wanbecq said "There is a man named Morrison.” Ihc name rang no bell in Durham’s mind. It brought no visible reaction to Su.san's face cither, though he was watching it closely. "And how,” he asked, "does Morrison feel .about humanity?” "Ask the Bitter Star,” said Wanbccq, and the taxi slid to a halt beside the plat- form on which Durham now saw that several men were .standing. Wanbecq and Wanbecq-ai hunched forward expectantly. "No,” said Durham. "I’m getting out, but you're not.” He nudged Susan. "Get ready.” Tiie doors slid open automatically. Susan scrambled out. Durham went right behind her, twisted like a cat in the opening, and splashed a brief warning blast off tlie floor at the feet of the Wanbecqs, who had raised a frantic cry and were trying to follow. Susan said breathlessly, "Ohl” The men who had been standing on the platform were now rushing forward. Three were le.tn and butter-colored. One was a burly Eartliman, who said in a tone of amazement, "What the hell — ” "Hold it!” Durham sliouted. He swept Susan behind him and tried to covet all fronts at once, not knowing whether the men were tliere to capture him or were only there by chance and responding to the Wanbecqs’ cm for help. "These people attacked us. I nave passage on your ship — ” From out of the night there came a shrill, flat, hooting cry of "Jubb! Jubb! Jubb!” The butter-colored men yelled. Tliey scattered away and out, their feet scrabbling on the platform. The Earthman was slower and more belligerent. He turned around and the spiky little blob of darkness ca leaping at him. He put up his hands ani struck at it, and tlie darkbird hooted as the fists passed through it, crackling. The Earthman opened his mouth in a round shocked O and went rigid, rising up on the tips of his toes. The darkbird seemed to merge with his skull for the fraction of a second, and he crumpled down with his mouth still open and his chest rising and hailing hcaiily. The darkbird swooped to- ward Durham. Durham fired at it. It soaked up part of the beam and left the rest, like a well-fed cat rejecting an overplus of milk. It darted past Durham and into the taxi, where it bounced agilely, once and twice. Wanbeeqand Wanbecq-ai fell down on the floor. The doors closed softly and the taxi mechanism whirred, and the rail hummed as it took off, heading back to the main terminal. The darkbird returned to Durham. Susan said in a strange voice, "What is that?” "Never mind now. Come on.” He started to drag her toward the ramp that led down from the platform. She fought him. She was getting hysterical, and he didn't blame her. "ITie darkbird followed along behind. When tliey readied the level, Susan planted her feet mulislily and refused to go any farther. "I don’t dare leave you alone out here,” he said desperately. "Come along to the ship and the captain will see that you get back safely — ” The darkbird circled and dived at Susan. She bolted. It dived at Durham. He bolted

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7.1 LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 90 too, off to the right, to tlic edge of the apron, where he caught up with Susan again. They ran between the storage sheds, onto a spur of the freight-belt system. It was still now, not carrying any freiglit. They tried to run across it to the other side, but the darkbird drove them back. It was immediately apparent, of course, that the thing was herding them. He shoulc-d at it to let Susan alone, but it did not pay any attention to him. And he thought, it wants us to go somewhere, so it won t knock us out. Maybe? It's worth a try. He took Susan and jumped off the belt and ran. 'I’hc darkbird touched him, ever so gently. He tried to yell, gave up, and tottered back where it wanted him to go, with every nerve in him pulled taut and twangling in a horrible half-pleasurable fashion that made his legs and arms move unnaturally, as though he were dancing. The darkbird followed, once again placid and uncon- cerned. They went along the belt for some dis- tance. It was limber, sagging a bit between the giant rollers, and it boomed under their feet with a sharp slapping sound. Susan stumbled so often he picked her up and carried her. There was nobody to call to, nobody to ask for help. Tlie towering ships were far away. The darkbird nudged him again at last, out across a landing apron where a very strange looking ship stood in the solitary majesty of impending take-off. The flood lights were blinking at twenty-second inter- v.ds, visual warning to stand clear, and Dur- h.am ran staggering as through a strobo- scopic nightmare, with the white-faced girl in his arms. Dark, light. Black, bright. A haze of ex- haustion swam before his eyes. 'I'hings moved in it, jerky shapes in an old film, in an antique penny peep show. Day, night. Dark, bright. The things moved closer, un- human things clad in fantastic pressure suits. Durham screamed. He tried to ran again, and the darkbird touched him. Once more there was the un- bear.ablc twitching of the nerves and he danced in the blade, bright, day, night. He danced into a large box that was waiting for him, and he kept going until he struck the end wall of har.! metal. He turned then, and saw the very thick door go sigh- ing shut and the dogs go slipping into plat e smck-snick one after the other, and it w .is too late even to try to get out again. He set Susan down as gently as he could and sank down beside her. The floor moved up under him sharply. I'liere was a bunging and clattering of tackle overhead, and then a sickening side-wise lurch. The on-off pat- tern of the light changed outside the two round windows that were in the bo.x. It became a steady green, in which his hands showed like two sickly-white butterflies on his knees. There were more noises, hollow and far away, and then a second lurch, a lift, a drop, and after that a larger motion encompassing the box and the entire locus in which it stood. Durham put his f.ice in his hands and gave up. V OUSAN was screaming, l.ct me out, let O me out. She was pounding on some- thing. Durham started up. He must have slept or passed out. The box was perfectly still now. There was no sense of motion. But he could tell by the change in gravity that the ship was in space. Susan was by one of the windows. She w-as pounding on it with her favorite im- plement, the heel of her shoe. Durham went to her and glanced out. Cold sweat broke out on him, and he grabbed her hand. "Stop it! Are you crazy? " He wrcnthetl the shoe from her and threw it acro.ss the small space of the box. Then he felt of the glass, peering at it, frantic lest she should have cracked it. "I'm going to get out," said .Susan grim- ly, and groped around for something heavier. "Look." He shook her and turned her face to the window. "Do you see that air out there?" The box now stood in a large empty hold. He could see the curve of the ship’s hull, ribbed with tremendous struts of steel, and a deck of metal plates, glistening in the green light. Creen light? Earth ships have a yellow-w'hitc type light, the kind

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■ ' PLANET STORIES 76 that the sun gives off. Well, yes — but sup- pose that tlie sun was green? Nanta Dik circles a green star. So does Scnya Dik. Those creatures out- side the ship were anything but humanoid. Jubb's darkbird herded us in here. Easy. Now we know. "What about tlic air?" asked Susan. "Let go of me." "It’s poisonous. Can’t you tell by look- ing at it?" It rolled and roiled and sluggish- ly shifted in vajxirs of tliick diartrcuse and vivid green. "And don’t you remember, they were wearing pressure suits? ’They couldn’t live in our atmosphere. We surely couldn't live in theirs.” There was no answer. "Susan. Susan?" "I want to go home," she said, and began to cry. '"There now, Susie. Take it — ” "Don’t call me Susie!" "All right, but take it ea.sy. I'll find out what the situation is and tlien I'll — ’’ "You'll what? You’ll make a mess of things just like you always have. You’ll get me into more trouble, just like you got me into this. You’re no good, Lloyd, and I wish I’d never seen you. I wish I’d never come to say good-bye!” She rushed to the window and began to pound on it again, this time with her fists. Durham hauled her away and shook her until her jaw rattled together. "I’m sorry you came too,” he said savagely. "You’re the last person in the galaxy I’d pick to be in trouble with. A damned spoiled female with no honesty, no courage, no nothing but your father’s position to trade on.” He wrapped his arms tight around her. "Hell, this is no time to be quarrelling. Let’s both keep our mouths shut. Come on, honey, we re not dead yet.” She choked a little, and stood trembling against him. Then she saitl, "I think I fell over a chair a while ago. Maybe tliere’s a lamp. Let’s look." ■Ilie green light was dim, but their eyes were used to it. They found a lamp and turned it on. The bo.x was flooded with a clear white glare, very grateful to Earthly senses. Durham looked around and said slowly, "I’ll be damned." The box w as about tlie size of a small room. It had in it an armchair, a bunk, compact cupboards and lockers, a sink and hotplate, and a curtained-off corner with a sanitary device. Durham turned on one of the sink taps. Water came out. He turned it off and went and sat down in the amt- chair. "I’m damned,” he said again. "Freezer, ’’ said Susan, looking into things. "Food concentrates. Pots and pans. Blanket. Change of clothes — all men’s. Booze, two bottles of it. Rack of micro- books. Somebody went to a lot of trouble.” "Yes." "Pretty comfortable. Everything you need, all self-contained.” "Uh." "But Lloyd — it’s only for one.” He said dismally, "We’ll take turns on the bunk.” But it wasn’t the bunk that w'orried him. He went and looked out of the otiicr window. By craning his head he could see an assembly of storage tanks, pres- sure tanks, pumps, purifiers, blower units, all tightly sealed against any admixture of Senyan air. That, too, was only for one. A most ghastly claustrophobia came over Dur- ham, and for a moment he saw Susan, not as a spoiled and pretty girl, but as his rival for tlie o.xygen that was life. Susan said, "Lloyd. Something is com- ing in." For an instant he thought she meant into the box, and then he realized that the reverberating dang he heard must be the hatch door of tlie hold. He joined her at the opposite window. There were two — no, three dark shapes coming toward tlie box, moving swiftly tlirougli the green and cliartreuse vapors. They undulated on two pairs of stubby legs set fore and aft under a flexible lower body. Their upper bodies, carried erect, were ratlicr bulbous and tall, with well-defined heads and tw'o sets of specialized arms, the lower ones thick and powerful for heavy work, the up|ier ones as delicate as ao engraver’s fine tools. 'Iheir skin was a glossy black, almost like patent leather. They wore neat harnesses of what looked like metal webbing in the way of dress, and on the breast strap each one carried an insigne. "Ship’s officers," Durham guessed. "Probably one of tliem’s tlie captain."

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G "Tliey’re horrible," said Susan. She "backed away from the window until the etid of tlie bunk caught her bcliind the knees and she sat down. Durham laughed. "Fine pair of co.smo- polites we are. We' re used to the idea of non-humanoids. There are a lot of them on The Hub, but they're mostly segregated by necessity, so we practically never really sec any. But now we’re the ones who have to be segregated. And the reality is cjuite another thing from the idea, isn’t it? ” Hli BACKED away himself, a step or two, until shame made him stop. The three non-humanoids came and looked with large iridescent eyes, through the window. Their oddly shaped mouths moved rapidly, so he knew that they were talking, and their slender upjxtr arms were as mobile and expressive as the hands of so many girls at a .sorority tea. Then one of them turned and did something to the wall of the box, and suddenly Durham could hear them clearly. There was a speaker device beside the window, Durham sprang at it. "Can you hear me? Can you hear me out there? Listen, you have no right to do this, you’ve got to take us backl Miss Hawtree is the daughter of — ’’ "Mr. Durham." TTlie voice was unhuman but strong, and the esperanto it spoke was perfectly understandable. "Please calm yourself and listen to what I have to say. 1 appreciate your feelings—’’ '•H.ihr " — but there is nothing I can do about it. 1 have my orders, and I can assure you — "From Jubb?" '’You’ll be fully informed when you reach Senya Dik. Meanwhile, I can assure you that no harm will come to you, now or later. So please put your fears at re.st. A little patience — ” Susan had leaped up. Now she flung her- self upon the speaker mike. ’’Vi'hat about me?’’ "Your prcseiKC was unexpected, and I fear it’s going to be rather diflicult for you both. But you must make the best of it. In regard to ait and water, I must caution you tliat the supply will hardly be adequate for you both unless you are extremely care- ful." 77 This had not occurred to Susan before. "You mean — ’’ "1 mean that you must use no more water than is absolutely necessary for drinking and preparing your food. Tlie food you must share between you, on half rations. As for the air — ’’ "Yes," said Durliam. "What about the air?" "I believe that activity has the effect of increasing your metabolism, thereby consum- ing mote oxygen. So I would advise you both to move and speak as little as possible. Remain calm. Remain quiet. In that way you should be able to survive. It is not that we are grudging. It is simply that we cannot share any of our .supplies with you, because you arc alien life forms and totally incom- patible. If we had knowm there would be two, we would have prepared. As it is, you must work together to conserve." "But," said Susan, "but this isn’t fair, it isn’t right! You’ll take me back or my father will see to it — ■" "Keep this speaker open,” said the Sen- yan, "so that you will be sure to hear the audio signal, a sustained note rcfseated at intervals of forty seconds. Prepare to enter overdrive.” He did not say good-bye. He merely went away with his two officers. Susan screamed after them. Durham clapped his hand over her mouth, and took her forcibly and put her on the bunk. "Lie there," he said. "Quiet. Didn’t you hear him? Don’t move, don’t talk." He sat down in the chair, consciously trying not to bre.uhe deeply. "But—” "Shut up.” "Don't you say shut up to me, Lloyd. This is all your fault." "My fault? Mine? Because you liad to shove yourself in — " "Shove myself? Father was right about you. And it is your fault. If you hadn’t asked me to ride down with you—" "Oh, .shut up, damn it, that’s just like a woman! If you knew your next breath was your last one you’d still h.ave to use it for talk. You want to asphyxiate us both with your gabbling?" She was quiet for a long while. Then he realized that she was crying.

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PLANET STORIES 78 "Lloyd, I’m scared.” "So am I.” He began to laugh. "When I come to think of it, it was your father that ot us both into this. I i'oge he sweats lood in great gory streams.’’ "You’re a drunken ungrateful swine! If dad really did give you another chance — " "Ah ah! Remember the oxygen! He did. And I was such a fatlieaded idiot I thought it was on tlie level. I even reformed." He laughetl again, briefly. "Overcome with gratitude, I did exactly what I was supposed not to do. I sobered up and held my tongue." "I don’t understand at all.” "I was supposed to talk, Susan. I was iven a message, and I w as supposed to abble it all over The Hub. I don’t know exactly wliat that message was intended to trigger off when it got into circulation. Probably a w'ar. But I'll bet I know what I triggered off by not talking. Trouble for your old man.” "I don’t believe a w-ord of it.” Durham shrugged. It was very little effort to reacli out and lift a bottle from a nearby cupboard. He opened it and took a long pull. Then he looked at the bottle, shook his head, and passed it to Susan. She made a derisive noise, and he shrug- ged again. "That's right. I'unny thing. First I was stricken with remorse and determined to be worthy. Now I’m just mad. Before I get through, I’m going to hang your father higher than Haman.” 'llie audio signal, shrill and insistent and sounding someliow as unhuman as tlie voices of the Senyans, came piercingly through the speaker. Susan gasped. "Wherever they’re taking us — thcn'’re not going to kill us, are they? ’ "I tliink they want to question us. I think some dirty work is going on, one of those million-oredit-swindle things you heat about once in a while, and I think your father is right up to his neck in it. If I’m right, that’s the chief reason you were brought along.” "I think you’re a dirty low down liar,” she said, in a voice he could hardly hear. The signal continued to squeal. Durham moved to the bunk. "Slide over.” "No.” But she did not fight him when he push- ed himself in beside her and took her in his arms. "Tlie haughty Miss Hawtree,” he said, and smiled. "You’re a mess. Hair in your eyes. Make-up all smeared. Tears dripping off the end of your nose.” The light dimmed, became strange and eerie. "They could have made this damned bunk a little wider.” "It doesn’t matter. After a trip like this, I won’t have any reputation left, anyway. Nobody would believe me on oaffi.” ’The fabric of the ship shifted, strained, slipped, moved. The fabric of Durham’s body did likewise. He set his teeth and said, “Don’t worry, dear. I can always ask tlie captain to many us.” By the time the audio-signal shrilled again, heralding a return to solar system speeds and space, it seemed tliat ages had passed. rj'lHEY did not talk about marriage now, -L even in jest. They hated each other. "Cabin fever,” they had said politely for a while, making excuses. But they did not bother with excuses any more, "riiey just had simply and quietly loathed each other, as the long, timeless time went by. Pity, too, ffiought Durham, looking at Susan where she lay in the bunk. She’s really a handsome wench, even without all the makeup and the hairdo and those incredible undergarments that women use, as though they were semj-liquescent. Just lying there in her slip now, she looks younger, gentler, nice and soft, as tliough slie’d be pleasant to hold in your arms again if you had the strength and the oxygen and if you didn’t hate her so. "Lloyd?” "Hull?" "How long before we land?" "How should I know?” "Well, you could find out.” "You find out. You can yell as loud as I can. Louder.” “I’ll yell,” said Susan ominously, "The second I get out of here. I’ll yell so loud the whole galaxy will hear me.”

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79 LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G "I sliould tliink they’ve already heard you cleat out to Andromeda." The lights dimmed. The peculiar noises and wrenchings that went witli coming out of overdrive began. Durham braced himself. "It’s too bad you reformed," said Siisan. "You used to be amusing company, at least. Now you’re sour and bad tempered. You're also — " What he was also Durham never heard. There was a crashing, roaring, rending impact. The chair went out from under him so tliat he fell face up into the ceiling. ’The lights W'ent out entirely. He heard a thin faint sound that might have been Susan screaming. Then tlie ceiling slid away from him and spilled him down a wall. As he went scrabbling past the window he looked out and saw that there were now long vertical rents in tlie outer hull through which the stars were shining. The pumps had stopped. A lon^ settling groan and then silence. The artigrav field was dead. Durham floated, along with everytlring else that w as not bolted down. "Susan," he said. "Susan? ” ’’Here.” Tliey met and clung together in mid ait while the hull began a slow axial rotation around them. "What happened?” "We hit sometliing.” "'I'he Senyans — " "Tliey must all be done for. The hull is split open. Head-on ram, I think, just as we came out of overdrive. They wouldn’t have had time to get space armor.” "Then are we — " "Kush. Don’t talk. Just wait and see.” They clung togedier, silent. The hull turned without sound, and the stars shone in tlirough the long slits, into the empty vaaium of the hold. "Lloyd, I can’t breathe." "Yes you can. We still have as much air as ever. It just isn’t circulating now. ” "I don’t know if I can stand this, Lloyd. It’s such an awful way." "'fhere isn’t any way that’s good. It won’t be so bad", really. You’ll just go off to sleep.” "Hold onto me?" "Sure.” "Lloyd.” "What?" "I’m sorry." "So am I.” The hull turned and the stats glittered. 'The vitiated air grew foul, grew thick and leaden. Tlie man and woman floated in the closed space, their arms tight around each other, tlieir faces close togetlier. Something jarred against the hull. "Lloyd! I see a light!" "It’s only a star." "No. Look through the window. Mov- ing—” Men, humans, wearing pressure suits, had come into the hull. Two of them were dragging oxygen bottles. They came up to the box and flashed their lights in through the windows. They knocked and made re- assuring signs. After a minute or two fresh oxygen hissed in under pressure tlirough the air duct. Susan laughed a little and then fainted. Durham still held her in his arms. Everything got pleasantly dark and far away, lost in the single simple joy of breathing. There were sounds and motions but he did not pay much attention to them, and he was mildly surprised when he happened to float past a window and noticed that now there was only space outside, very large and full of hot and splendid lights. When he passed tlie otlier window he saw part of a ship, and he understood that tlie box was being hoisted across tlie interval between it and the wreck. It seemed a remarkably kind dispensation of fortune to have pro- vided a ship at exactly the right time and place, and not just any ship but one equip- ped with the specialized tackle required for moving heavy loads in space. A mighty cargo hatch swallowed tlie box. Susan came to, and they waited, weakly hysterical, Durham not even noticing that a spiky shadow had slipped in with tlie box. Suddenly again there was man-made light, and then the sound of heavy air pumps reached them. The pumps stopped, and, quite simply, men came in and opened the door of the box. There was a considerable noise and con- fusion, eveiyhody talking at once. Durham lost track of Susan. He was only partly con- scious of what he w'as doing, but he felt

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PLANET STORIES 80 that everybody was in a hurry to get some- tliing done. Then there was a cabin with a port in it, and beyond the port tliere was space, and in that space a great ligiit flared blindingly and was gone. VI Morrison saUI, "Murder is a harsh word, Durham. After all, they weren’t human.” "There’s no such difference under Feder- ation law.” "W'c're not under Federation law here.” "No. And you’re engaged in a life-or- death struggle to make sure you don’t come under it. 'Ibis h.appcncd to be one of the death parts.” Morrison looked at him in mild surprise. "You figurtvl that out, Durham?” He was a lean gray, kindly looking man, the con- ventional father type. Susan was staring at him in blank horror, as though she could not believe what she w.as heating. "I wasn’t told you were liiat bright. Well, you're right. Universal Minerals and its various dummy corporations in tliis sub-sector are making such profits as you wouldn’t believe if I told you, and -we liave no intention of giving it up.” " liven if you have to slaughter a whole ship’s crew. W hat did you do, tow an aster- oid into position?” Morrison shrugged. "Special debris is not uncommon.” "You could have killed us, too, you know,” Durham said angrily. "You could have killed her. Hawtree wouldn’t have liked that. ” ”It was a risk we h.ad to take. It was a reasonably small one.” He looked Durham up and down. "You made us one whale of a mess of trouble. If my yaclit wasn’t a good bit faster than Jubb’s ship, we’d have been whipped. What happened to you? Why didn’t yon talk like you w’cre sup- posed to?” "You’d die laughing.” "I can control my emotions. Go ahead.” Durlum told him. "\'irtue, " lie finished sourly, "is sure enough its own reward. I should have stayed drunk. 1 was happier that way. What happened to tlie Wan- becqs?” Morrison was still laughing. ~Hiey had not come to when their taxi reached the terminus. Tlie port police picked them up.” He took a bottle out of a locker and pushed it and a glass across the cabin twle to Durham. "Here. You’ve earned it. "Wait till I tell Hawtree. And he was so sure of you. Just goes to show you can’t trust anybody.” Susan said, "But why?” Shock was mak- ing her mind move slowly. It was a minute before they realized she was referring to the Senyan ship. She added, very slowly, "It’s true about my father?” "I'm afraid it is," said Morrison. "But I wouldn’t worry about it too mudi. He’s a very rich man. He’s also a shrewd one, and it looks now as tliough he’s wiog to be all right. Give her a drink, Durham, she needs it. Would you like to lie down. Miss Hawtree? All right, then. I’ll tell you why.” He leaned over her with no look of kindness at all. "Get this all clearly in mind. Miss Hawtree, so you’ll understand that if at any time you try to hang me, you’ll hang your father too. We’re partners, equally guilt)’. You understand that.” "Yes.” She looked so white that Durham was frightened. But site sat quietly and listened. "For years now,” Morrison said, "I have managed the company here, and Hawtree has used his position with the Embassy to see that I have a free hand. He sees that no complaints get to ears higher up. He sees that any annoying red tape is taken care of. Most important of all, he sees that any official communication from either of the Diks that might be unfavorable to us is permanently lost in the files — including all requests for aid in achieving Federation status. Our connection, naturally, is one of the best kept secrets in the galaxy. "We h.ad very easy sailing until Jubb rose to pov/er on Senya Dik. Jubb is an able leader. He knows what’s happening to tlie resources of the sector, and he knows the only way to put a stop to it. Unfortu- nately for us, all the leaders on Nanta Dik aren’t fools eitlier, and there is a growing movement toward unification. Jubb has pushed it and pushed it, so that we’ve been

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G forced to take more and more vigorous steps. The human supremacy groups, made up of such people as the Wanbecqs, have been very useful. And of course Senya Dik has its lunatic fringe too, in reverse but equally u.seful. But Jubb started a campaign of petitioning the Kmbassy. He poured it on so liard that Hawtrec knew he wasn’t going to be able to pigeonliole all the peti- tions forever. Furthermore, it was obvious that Jubb knew there must be collusion somewhere and was hammering away to find it. So Hawtree sent for me." "And," said Durham, "you said, 'Let’s start a war between the two planets. Then unification can’t possibly take place, and Jubb will have too much on his hands to bother us.’ Maybe he’ll even be eliminated. And you went looking for a goat." "Exactly. You were given a message about dark birds that would have significance only to a Nantan. The Wanbccqs were put on your trail. All you had to do was talk." "What if I had talked too much?" "How could you? You didn't know any- thing. And Hawtree’s story would be that he had simply given you passage home, which you had bought." "And anyway," said Durham thought- fully, "I would have been either dead in an alley somewhere, or aboard a ship going to Nanta Dik— which I would not have reached." "It was a flexible situation.” Susan said, '"riien you admit that you — " She could not finish. Morrison turned on her irritably. "You very nearly wrecked us. Miss Hawtrec. Durham’s disappearance wouldn’t have raised a ripple, but the daughter of a highly placed diplomat vanishing was quite another thing. Your father had to think fast and talk faster, or public curiosity would have forced an investigation right then. Fortunately the Wanbecqs helped. Tliey painted a pretty dark picture of Jubb, and Hawtree was able to smooth things over since everybody knew you’d been sweet on Durham and had obviously gone to say good-bye. Hawtree did such a good job, in fact, that lie had the whole Hub seething with indignation against Jubb even 6 — Ptauet — Summer 8t before I left. So it turned out well, in spite of you." "But why did you have to wreck tlie ship?" "Well, we had to get you back. We couldn't let Jubb have Mr. Durham to use as a witness against us, and we certainly couldn’t let him have Hawtree's daughter to use as a club over Hawtree. Now, you see, the situation is this." He nodded to the cabin port beyond which the bright flare had come and gone, leaving notliing but emptiness. “There’s nothing left of the ship but atoms, and no one can say what happened to it. Jubb does not have you two, but he can’t prove it as long as you’re kept out of sight. So we keep you out of sight, and at the same time press demands to Jubb for your return. It looks as tliough he’s hiding you, or has killed you, in fear of the storm he has raised. I’lie more he doesn’t give you up the more human opinion turns against him, and the more his own people figure he's made them nothing but trouble. Mean- while, the Wanbecqs are on tlieir way home with a big story. We can still have our war if we want it. And Jubb’s days are num- bered." Durham said slowly, "What if he decides to use the Bitter Star?" Morrison stared at him, and tlien laughed. "Don’t try to frighten me witli my own bogeyman. I took a story a thou- sand years old and resurrected it and talked it up until it caught. But tliat’s all it is, a story." "Are you sure? And what about the dark- birds? I'iiey seem to get around. Won’t they tell Jubb where we arc?” "He’d have a hard time proving it on the word of a shadow. Besides, there are defenses against them. They won’t inter- fere." "1 suppose," said Durham, taking the bottle into his hand as though to pour again, "that it wouldn't bother you to know tliat one of them is in here now." Morrison did not take his eyes from Durham’s face. "Hawtree made a stinking choice in you. Put down that bottle.” Durham grinned. He raised the bottle higher and chanted, "Jubb, Jubb, Jubb!" Morrison said between his teeth, "Thi.s

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82 PLANET STORIES would have had to be done anyway." Still watching Durham, he reached one swift hand into the belt of his tunic. Susan made a muffled cry and started to get up. None of the motions were finished. A shadow came out from the darkness of a corner behind Morrison’s diair. It flicked against him and he fell across the table, quite still. The darkbird came and hung in the air in front of Durham. "Jubb," it said. Durham put down the bottle and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He looked at tlie darkbird, feeling cold and hollow. "I want to go to him. You understand? To Jubb.” Up and down it bounced, like the nod- ding of a head. Susan said, "What are you going to do?" "Try and ste.il a lifeboat.” "I’m going witli you.” "No. Morrison doesn’t want to kill you, but don’t push him too far. You stay. Then if I don't make it you’ll still be — ” He broke off. "Tliat’s taking a lot for granted, i-sn’t it? After all, Hawtree is your father.”- She whispered, "I don’t care.” "It’s the biggest decision you’ll ever make. Don’t make it too fast.” He kissed her. "Besides, if you wait, you may not have to make it at all. ” He took Morrison’s gun and went out, and the darkbird went witli him, bunched small and darting so swiftly tliat the two men it struck down never saw it. Durham turned aside into the communications room, and tlie darkbird saw to it that there was no alarm. He damaged radio and radar so lh.at it would take some time to fix tliem. ’Hicn he went on down the corridor to tlie plainly marked hatch tliat led to Lifeboat No. 1. He got into it, with tlie darkbird. As soon as die boat h.atch itself was shut, automatic relays blew him free of tlie pod on a blast of air. "Jubb,” said tlie darkbird. It touclied him, and to his amazement there was no shock, only a cliilly tingling diat -was not unpleasant. Then it simply oozed out tlirough the solid hull, the way smoke oozes tlirough a filter, and was gone. Durham had no time for any more aston- isliments. The controls of the lifeboat were designedly very simple and plainly mj^ted, Durham got himself going and a-way from Morrison’s ship as fast as he could. But be knew tliat it was not going to be anything like fast enough if tlie darkbird didn’t hurry. It hurried. And Durham was closer to Senya Dik than he realized. In less than three hours he was in touch with a planetary patrol ship, following it in toward the green blaze of KL421, and a dim cool planet that circled it, farther out tlian the orbit of Earth around Sol, but not quite so far as Mars. VII The spaceport was in a vast flat plain. Far across the plain Durham could see tlie dark outline of a city. He stood at the edge of the landing area, between two Senyan officers from tlie sliip. He wore a pressure suit from the lifeboat’s equipment, and the wind blew hard, beating and pick- ing and pushing at tlie suit and tlie bubble helmet. It was difficult for Durham to stand up, but the Senyans, braced on tlieir four sturdy legs, stood easily and swayed tlieir upper bodies back and forth like trees. They were big. He had not really under- stood how big they were until he stood be- side tliem. He gathered that tliey -were waiting for a ground conveyance, and he was not surjirised. Light air cabs were hardly suited to their build. He had talked briefly to Karlovic by radio, and he was impatient to get to the consulate where Karlovic was -waiting foe him. The minute or two in -which they waited for the truck seemed interminable. But it came, a great powerful thing like a moving van, and one of tlie Senyans said, "Permit me?" With his two lower arms he lifted Dur- ham onto the platform. The two Senyans spoke to tlie driver and tlien got on them- selves. The truck took off, going very fast in spite of its size. The Senyans held Dur- ham between tliem, because there was noth- ing for a human to hang to, and nowhere to sit down. They left the spaceport Huge storage buildings Imed the road, and then smaller building.s, and tlien patches of open coun^, inexpressibly dreary to Elurham s eyes. High

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LAST CALL FROM SECTOR 9G Overhead the sun burned green and small in a skjr of cloudy vapor from which fell showers of glinting rain. Poison rain from a poison sky. Durham shivered, and a deep depression settled on him. Nothing hopeful would be done in tliis place. Not by humans. The truck roared on. Durham watched the city grow on the murky horizon, rising up into huge ugly towers and blocky struc- tures like old prisons greatly magnified. It was a big city. It was a frightening city. He wished he had never seen it. He wished he was back in The Hub, standing on a high walk with the good hot sun pouring on him and no barriers between him and the good clean air. He wanted to weep witli mingled weariness and claustrophobia. Tlien he no- ticed that little crowds had collected along the way into the city. They shouted at the truck going by, and waved tlieir arms, and some of them threw stones that tattled off the sides. "What’s the mattet?” Durham asked. "They are members of tlie anti-human party. Prejudice cuts both ways, a thing our neighbors of Nanta Dik do not seem to understand. Human and non-human are intellectual concepts. On the emotional level it is simply us or not-us. You are not-us, and as such quite distasteful to some. NXTiat I do not understand is how they knew you were coming." "Morrison must have got his radio work- ing. He’s been using the extremists here just like the ones on Nanta Dik, to make trouble." "There are times — ” said die Senyan grimly. "But then I make myself remember that there are scoundrels among us, too." Tlie truck rumbled through the traffic of wide boulevards, between rows of massive buildings that had obviously never been de- signed witli anything so small and frail as human beings in mind. There were Senyans on the streets, apparently goiM about what- ever business they did, and Durham won- dered what their home life was like, what games the children played, what tliey ate and how they thought, what things tliey worried about in the dark hours of the night. He felt absolutely alien. It was not a nice feeling. Presently the truck turned into an open circle surrounded by mighty walls of stone. 83 In one place bright light shone cheerfully from the windows, and the Senyan said, "That is the consulate.” Tliey set him off and showed him where the airlock was. Durham performed the ritual of the lock chamber, frantic to get out of the confining suit. When the inner door swung open he began to teat at the helmet, and a man came in saying, "Let me help." When Durham was free of the suit, the man looked at him with very tired, very angry eyes. "I'm Karlovic. Julib’s waiting. Ginie on." He led Durham down an echoing cor- ridor that dwarfed them by its size. The colors of the polished wocxl and stone were not kc)'ed to the glaring yellow light, and the rooms that Durham could see into as he passed were not keyed to the small in- congruous furnishings that had been forced upon them. Somewhere below there was a throbbing of pumps, and the air smelled of refresher chemicals. Durliam said, "You knew I w'as being brought here, didn't you?" Karlovic nodded. "You, yes. The girl, no. Slie was an overzealous mistake on the part of the darfcbircL Yes, I was in on it. I hoped that finally we could get proof, a witness against whoever in the Emtesy was working with Morrison. Hawtree, is it? I’m glad to know his name." He pushed open a door. The room be- yond it was only half a room, cut in the middle by a partition of heavy glass. On the other side of the glass wall was the thick green native air, and three Senyans, one of whom came forward when Durham and Karlovic came in. A darkbird hovered close above him. He said to Durham, "I am Jubb." There were communicator discs set in the glass. Jubb motioned Durham to a cliair beside one. "first let me offer the apology that is due you. You were carrying a mes- sage which was not true, which would have made the people of Nanta Dik believe that we were about to come against them widi the Bitter Star. The darkbirds warned me, and I felt that I had no choice. I could not let that message be delivered." Durham said, "No one could blame you for that."

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PLANET STORIES U "You unJerstami, I had another motive, too.” "Yes. I don't tiiink you could be blamed for that, either.” JUBB looked at him with his large in- scrutable eyes, totally alien, unmistaka- bly intelligent. "I didn’t know what you would be like, Mr. Durham, whether you would be in sympathy with your employers or not. Now of course it is evident that you can’t be.” Durham said quietly, 'Tve been to a lot of trouble already to put a tope around their necks. I’m ready to go to a lot mote. They’ve used me like — ” He could not think of tlie tight word, Jubb nodded. "Contempt is not an easy thing to take. I know. Tlien you will help? ” "In any way I can.” "I want you to go back with me to The Hub, Mr. Durham. Before, I was helpless without proof. Now, as head of a planetary govermnent, I can insist on seeing the ranking Amb.assador himself, and I can bypass Hawtree now tliat I know w’ho he is. I want you to be my witness.” "Nothing,” said Durham, "would please me mote.” "G(X)d,” said Jubb. "Good. Karlovic, it looks as though the end of our long fight may be in sight at last. Take good cate of Mr. Durham. He is more precious tlian gold. ’’Meanwhile, Morrison had made us a problem on transportation. We provided that particular ship for the consul’s comfort, when there was reason for him to travel in our territory, and we had planned to refit it so that it would accommodate two on the return journey. Now I must ask a ship from our friends on Nanta Dik, and that may take a little time. So rest well, Mr. Durham. ” He went out, and Karlovic led Durham back into the hall and from there into a tall gloomy chamber that had a shiny little kitchen lost in one corner of it. Tliere w’as a table and chairs. Duriiam sat down and watched Karlovic busy himself with pack- ages of food. "You don’t look very happy about all this," he said. "I’m not unliappy. I’m worried;" , ■ "About what? Morrison can’t do any- thing now'." "No? Listen, Mr. Durham, the emperors of Rome only nded part of one little world, but they didn’t give it up easily. Morrison won’t, either. Remember, things are so bad for him now tliey can’t possibly get any worse, only better.” Durham looked out the window. It was a double one, with a vacuum between die panes and protective mesh on the outside. The green air pressed thick against it. Tlic sun had wheeled far over, and the shadows of tlie buildings were long and black. "Do you stay here much?” he asked. "I have lately,” said Karlovic. "I had to. hfy life wasn’t safe on Nanta Dik. You’ve no idea how high tlieir feelings tun there, thanks to Morrison." He began to set tlie table. Durl-.am made no move to help. He was tired. He watched the shadow's lengthen and fill the circle of lofty walls with their darkness. "Couldn’t the government there protect you?" "Only part of tlie government wants to. And hlorrison is working hard to frighten them with all tin’s propaganda about the Bitter Star." "Propaganda. Tliat’s what he said. Is it?” "Absolutely — as far as the Senyans using it is concerned. But the thing itself is real. It’s in the city here. I’ve seen it." Karlovic put die heated containers on tlie table and sat dow'n. He began methodi- cally to eat. "It’s kind of a w'eird story. Probably it could only have happened on a w'orld like this, w ith a totally non-human, bio-cliemical set-up. Senyan science started early and ad- vanced fast, a good deal faster than it did on Nanta Dik, for some reason. They did a lot of experimenting with solar energy and atomics and the forces tliat lie just on the borderline of life — or maybe intelli- gence would be a better word.” "Aren’t the two more or less synony- mous?” "A hunk of platinum sponge or a mess of colloids can be intelligent, but never alive. The Star is. The darkbirds are. They’re not matter, tliey’re merely a nexus of interacting particles. But diey live and think.” ■

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85 LAST CALL FnOM SECTOR 9G "What about the Star?" "The scientists were trj-ing for an energy matrix that would absorb solar power and store it like a battery. Something slipped, and the result was the Bitter Star. It absorbs solar power, all right, but in the form of heat, and it will take heat from anything. And it doesn’t give it up. It merely absorbs more and more until every living thing near it is frozen and there’s no more heat to be had. The Senyan scientists didn't know quite what to do with this thing they had created, but they didn't want to destroy it, either. It had too many angles they wanted to study. So they made the darkbirds, on the same pattern but without the heat-hunger, and with a readier intelligence, to be a bridge between themselves and the Star, to control it. They studied the thing until it proved too dangerous, and they prisoned it by simply starving it at a temperature of absolute zero. So it has stayed ever since, but the darkbirds still guard it in case any- thing should happen to free it again. They almost seem to love it, in some odd un- fleshly way." Durham frowned. "Tlien it coulJ be used against Nanta Dik.” "Oh yes,” said Karlovic sombrely. "In fact it was, once. The Star shone in their sky in midsummer, and the crops blackened and tlie rivers froze, and men died where they stood in the fields. The Senyans won the war. That was a thousand years ago, but the Nantans never quite forgot it." He got up and went morosely to the sink, carrying dishes. "I keep telling Jubb he ought to get rid of the thing. It’s a sore point. But — " Somewhere below there was a very loud noise. The floor rose up and then settled again. Almost at once the air was full of dust, and an alarm bell began a strident ringing. Karlovic' s mouth opened and closed twice, as though he was trying to say some- thing. He let the dishes fall clattering around his feet, and then he ran with all his might out of the room and along the hall. Durham followed him. There was now no sound at all from below. The pumps bad stopped. Karlovic found his tongue. "Cover your face. Don’t breathe.” Durham saw a thin lazy whorl of greenish mist moving into the hall. He pressed his handkerchief over his mouth and nose and made his legs go, hard and fast. He was right on top of Karlovic when they stumbled into Uie airlock. It was still clear. Tliey helped each other into their suits, panting in the stagnant air. Then, through the helmet audio, Durham could hear sounds from outside, muffled shouts and tramplings. Karlovic went back into . the consulate where the green mist was •already clinging around his knees, and looked out a window into the circle. Over his shoulder Durham could see Senyans milling around and he thought they were rioters, but Karlovic said, "It’s all tight, tliey’ re Jubb’s guards." 'They went back to the airlock, and from there into the open circle. Senyans escorted them hastily into the adjoining building, and Durham saw that guard posts were being set up. There was a gaping hole in the side of the consulate and the pavement was shattered, and there were pieces of machinery and stuff lying around. Durham figured rapidly in his head how much oxygen he had in his suit pack, and how long it would take to repair the consulate and get the air conditioning working again, and how long it would be before a ship could get here from Nanta Dik. He looked at Karlovic, whose face was white as chalk inside his helmet. "The lifeboat," he said. Karlovic nodded. Some color came back into his face. "Yes, the lifeboat. We can live in it until the ship comes." He ran his tongue over his lips as though they were very dry. "Didn’t I tell you Morrison wouldn’t give up easy? Oh lord, the life- boat!” He began to jabber urgently at the Senyans in their own tongue, and again his expression was agonized. Durham didn’t need to be told what he was thinking. If anytliing happened to that lifeboat, they were two dead men on a world where humans had no biological right to be. They were brought into a room where Jubb was busy with a bank of communica- tors and a batch of harried aides. The room was enormous, but it did not dwarf the Senyans, and the sombre colors did not seem

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86 PLANET STORIES depressing in tlieir own liglit. Jubb said, as they came in tlie door, "I’ve had a heavy guard set on your lifeboat. I don't think anyone can repeat that liit-and-run bombing—" He cursed in a remarkably human fashion, naming Mor- rison and the Senyan fools who let them- selves be used. "You are all right, Karlovic — Mr. Durliani? Quite safe? I've ordered a motor convoy. There are signs of unrest all over the city — apparently word has gone out that you, Durham, are carrj-ing tlie uni- fication agreement for my signature, and that the terms are a complete surrender on our part to human rule. Does it cheer you two to know that the human race is not alone in producing fools and madmen? Once on the spaceport you will be safe, my naval units will see to that, and my troops are already in the streets. They have orders to look out for you. Go witli fortune.” Thc-y were taken out another way, where three heavy trucks and several smaller vehicles were drawn up. The Senyans in them wore a distinctive harness and were armed, and the vehicles all had armor plated bodies. Durha.m and Karlovic were lifted into one of the trucks, which was already filled with Senyan soldiers. The convoy moved off. Durham braced himself in a corner and looked at Karlovic. "Happened fast, didn't it? Awfully fast. ” "'Violent things always do. You’re not mudi used to violence, are you? Neither am I. Neither are most people. They get it shotted at tlicm. " “I don’t think we re through with it yet,” said Durham. Karlovic said, "I told you.” For some time there was only the rushing and jolting of the truck, the roar of motors and a kind of dim uneasy background of sound as though the whole city stirred and seethed. Durham was frightened. The food he h.ad eaten had turned against him, he was stifling in his own sweat, and he thought of Morrison cruising comfortably somewhere out in space, smoking cigarettes and drinking good wdiiskey and sending down a message now and tlicn, the way a man pokes with a stick at a brace of beetles, stirring them casually toward deadi. He.grpund.his jaws, tpgetJluir in an .^gpny- of hate and fear, and tlie taste of them was sour in his mouth. Somebody said to tliem, “We’re on tlie sp.ueport highway now. It won’t be long.” A minute later somebody shouted and Karlovic caught die Senyan word and echoed it. "Barricade!” The truck rocked and whirled about and there were great crashes in the night that had fallen. Durham was thrown to his knees. The truck raced at full speed. There were sounds of fighting that now rose and now grew faint, and die truck lurched and swerved, and then there were more roars and crashes and it came violently to a halt. The Senyans began firing out of die loopholes in the armored sides. Some of them leaped out of the truck, beckoning Durham and Karlovic to come after them. A large force of rioters was attacking what remained of the convoy, which had been forced back into the city. Four of the Senyan soldiers ran with the two men into a side street, but a small body of rioters caught up with them. The soldiers turned to fight, and Karlovic said in a voice that was now curiously calm, "If we’re quick enough they may lose sight of us in the darkness.” He turned into an areaway between two buildings, and then into another, and Dur- ham ran beside him through the cold green mist and the dim glow of lamps that glim- mered on the alien walls. The sound of the fighting died away. They turned more corners, hunting always for the darkest shadow’s, hoping to meet a patrol. But the streets were deserted and all tlie doors barred tight. Finally Durham stopped. "How much oxy’gen you got left?” Karlovic peered at the illuminated indica- tor on the wrist of his suit. "Hour. Maybe less.” Both men were breathing hard, panting, burning up tlie precious stuff of life. Dur- ham said, "I won’t last that long. Listen, Karlovic. Where is the Bitter Star?” Karlovic’s face was a pale blur inside his helmet. "You crazy? You can't — " Durham put his two hands on the shoul- ders of Karlovic’s suit and leaned his helmet close so that it clicked on Karlovic's. "Maybe I'm crazy. In thirty, forty min- utes I’ll be d!;a';l, .^o what will i^ .apatter

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LAST CALL FROM SKCTOR 9G then? Listen, Karlovic, I want to live." He pointed back the way they had come. "You think we can walk through that to the spaceport in time?" "No.” "We got anyplace else to go?" "No." "All right tlien. Let's give ’em hell." "But they’re not all our enemies. Jubb, my friends — ” "Friend or enemy, they’ll clear the way. We might just make it, Karlovic. You said the darkbirds control it, and you can talk to them." He shook Karlovic viciously. "\X'’here is it? Don’t you understand? If we use it we can hound Morrison out of space!" Karlovic turned and began to walk fast, sobbing as he went, '"rhe darkbirds will never let us. You don’t know what you’re doing.” "I know one thing. I’m sick of being pushed, pushed, pushed, into corners, into holes, where I can’t breathe. I’m going to — ’’ He sluit his teeth tight together and walked fast beside Karlovic, starting at every sound and shadow. By twining alleys and streets where noth- ing moved for fear of the violence that was abroad that night, Karlovic led Durham to an open space like a park with vast locked gates tliiat could keep a Senyan out but not a little agile human who could climb like a monkey with the fear of death upon him. Beyond the gates great wrinkled lichens as tall as trees grew in orderly rows, and a walk led inward. The lichens bent and rustled in the wind, and Durham’s suit was wet with a poisonous dew. I’he walk ended in a portico, and tlie portico was part of a building, round and squat as though a portion of its mass was underground. They passed through a nar- row door into a place of utter silence, and a darkbird hung there, barring their way. "Jubb," said Durham. "Tell it Jubb has sent us. Tell it the Bitter Star must be freed again to destroy Jubb’s enemies." Karlovic spoke to the shadow. Others came to join it. There was a flurry of hooting and chittering, and tlien the one Karlovic had been speaking to disappeared in the uncanny fashion of its kind. The others stayed, a barrier between the two men ahd a ramp that led steeply down. 87 Karlovic sat down wearily on the chill stone. "It isn’t any use," he said. "I knew it wouldn’t be. The darkbird has gone to ask Jubb if what we say is true." Durham sat down, too. He did not even bother to look at the indicator on his wrist. No use. The end. Finish. He shut his eyes. Tliere was a stir and a hooting in the air. Karlovic gasped. Ihen he began to shake Durham, laughing like a woman who has heard a risque story. "Didn’t you hear? The bird came back, and Jubb said — Jubb said Morrison has been preaching the war of the Bitter Star, so let him have it." He grasped Durham’s suit by the shoul- ders and pulled him to his feet, and they ran with the cloud of shadows, down into the dimness below. VIII There was a small sealed chamber with a thick window, and beyond it was a circular space, not too large, walled w'ith triple walls of glass with a vacuum between. The air was full of darkbirds, moving with- out hindrance througli the walls or hover- ing where they chose, above the thing that slept inside. Durham blinked and turned his head away, and then looked back again. And Karlovic said softly, "Beautiful, isn’t it? But sad, too, somehow, I don’t know why." Durham felt it, a subliminal feeling with- out any reason to it, like the sadness of a summer night or of birth and laughter or of gull’s wings white and swift against the sky. The Star shone, palely, gently. He tried to see if it was round or any other shape, if it was solid or vaporous, but he could not see anything but that soft shining, like mist around a winter moon. Durham shook himself and wondered why, when he was already so sure of death, he should he so afraid. "All right," he said. "How is it freed?" "Tlie darkbirds do that. Watch." He spoke to them, one word, and in the glass-walled prison there was a stirring and a swirling of shadows around tlie soft shining of the Star. Durham saw a disc set in the metal overhead. One of the darkbirds touched it. There was an intense blue flare of light, and Durham felt tlie throbbing

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8S VIANET STORIES of hidden dynamos, a saret surge of power. The glass walls darkened and grew dim, the low roof turned and oj:?ened to the sky. And through the barrier window, Durham watched the w-aking of a star. He saw the frosty shining brighten and spread out in slow unfurling veils. There was a moment when the whole building .seemed filled with moonfire as cold as tlie breath of outer sp.ate and as beautiful as the face of a dream, and then it was gone, and the darkbirds were gone with it. "Come on,” said Karlovic, a harsh incon- gruous voice in the stunned darkness that was left behind, and Durham came, up tlie ramp and out into the parklike space be- yond, and all the tall lidiens were standing dead and sheathed in ice. High above, burning cold over tlie city, a new star shone. Tliey followed it, through a silence as deep as the end of the world. Everytliing had taken cover at the rising of that star, and only the two men moved, the thermal units of their suits turned on high, through streets all glazed with ire and cluttered here and there with the wreckage and the dead of the rioting. The darkbirds were forcing the Star to stay high, but es’cn so nothing could live long wdthout protection in that sudden, terrible winter. The road to the port lay blank and bate. They found one of the smaller vehicles, its driver dead beside it. Karlovic got it going, moving the great levers with Durham’s help. After that they rushed faster through the empty night. Durham shut his eyes, thinking. He opened them, and the spaceport of .Senya Dik lay black and deserted around him, and Karlovic w.is gasping to him for help. Together they pulled down the lever that stopped their conveyance. They scram- bled down and ran out toward the small lifeboat, slipping and stumbling, dying in- side their suits. They fell into the airlock, and Durham slammed the door and spun the wheel, waiting out the agonizing sec- onds while the tiny chainber cleared and then refilled, and they could tear off their helmets and breathe again. They looked at each other and laughed, and hugged each other, and laughed again, and then went in to the cabin. The communicator was flashing its light and burring stridently. Durham switched it on. Jubb’s face ap- peared in the tiny screen. “You are safe? Good, good, Tor a moment I tliought — 1 Listen. I have word from my patrol that hforrison has other ships with him now, spread out to catch you if by chance you get tlirough. That is what decided me to use the Bitter Star. I am angry, Karlovic. I am tired of mockery and lies and secret violence. I am tired of peace which is only a cloak for another man's aggression." A darkbird came into tlie cabin and hung over Durham’s shoulder. “It will carry your messages,” said Jubb. "I am leaving now for tlie port, . and my own flagship, we go together. Good luck.” The screen went dead. Durham said, “Strap in, we're taking off.” The Star, with its herding pack of shad- ows, set a course tliat took them steeply up out of Senya Dik’s shadow, into the full flood of tlie green sun’s light. The dark- bird spoke by Durham’s shoulder, and Karlovic said, “'llic Star must feed — or recharge itself, as you would say, with solar heat. Watch it, Durham. Watch it grow." He watclied. The Star spread out its misty substance, spreading it wide to the sun, and the soft shining of it brightened to an angry glare that grew and widened and bec.ime like a burning cloud, not green like tlie sunlight but white as pearl. Far off to one side of it Durham saw the glinting of a ship’s hull. He pointed to it. Karlovic w'orked with tlie communicator. In a minute the screen lit up, and Morrison’s face was in it. "Hello, Morrison,” he said. “Hello, thief.” Morrison's face was as hard' and white as something carved from bone. "It wasn’t just an old wive’s tale, Mor- rison,” he said. "It was true, and here it is. The Bitter Star, Morrison.” Karlovic reached over and shook him, pointing out the viewport. Coming swiftly m toward them was a small ship, curiously shaped before. "Sp.icesweep,” Karlovic said. “Tliose funny bulges are torpedo tubes, and the

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89 LAST CALL FROM SKCTOn i)G torpedoes carry heavy scatter charges to dear away ddjris so the ore ships can come in.” I^rliam said to tlie image in the screen, "Call him off." Morrison showed the edges of his teeth, and asked, "Why should I?" Durham nodded to Karlovic, who spoke to the darkbird. It disappeared. Within a few seconds the Star had begun to move. It moved fast, the angry gleaming of its body making a streak like a white comet across the green-lit void. It w rapped itself around the space-sweep, and then it lifted and the ship continued on its way undiangcd. Morrison laughed. The sweep rushed on toward the lifeboat. Its tubes were open, but nothing came out of them. Durham shifted course to clear it, and it blundered on by. In the screen, Mor- rison’s image turned and spoke to someone, and the someone answered, "I can’t, they just aren’t there.” Morrison turned again to Durham, or rather to the image of him that was on his own screen. "I know what I’m supposed to say now, but I'm not going to s.ay it. I’ve got Miss Huwtrcc witli me, had you for- gotten tluat? I don’t think you’ve suddenly acquired that kind of guts." Durham shook his head. "I don’t need them. I want you alive, Morrison. But I don’t give a tinker’s damn what happens to anybody else in this whole backside of nowhere you call PG. Nobody and nothing. And I have the Bitter Star to back me up. I am wondering how many loyal employees of Universal Minerals, and how many stupid Wanbecqs are going to sacrifice their lives just to keep me from getting my hands on you. Call them up, Morrison, and count them out, and we’ll send the Star to see them." ’Tire Star glowed and glimmered and rew' to a great shining, and a look of w'orry eepened on Karlovic’s face. Morrison did not answer, and Durham could see tlie tlioughts going round and round in his mind, the possibilities being weighed and evaluated. 'Then the someone who was be- hind Morrison and out of scanner range said in a queer flat voice, “Tlie tug Varney calling in, sit. They boarded the sweep." "vew "All dead, sir. Frozen. Even the air was frozen. They said to tell you they’re going home.” "All right," said Morrison softly. "Dur- ham, I’m going home too, to Nanta Dik. Let’s see if you can follow me there." He broke contact. In tlie distance, Dur- ham saw the bright speck that was Mor- rison’s ship make a wheeling curve and speed away. Durham said grimly to Kar- lovic, "Tell the darkbirds to follow with the Star. And then get hold of somebody on Nanta Dik, somebody with authority. 'I’ell them everything that’s happened. Tell them Morrison is all we want. We'll see liow close they let him get to home.” "I don’t know," said Karlovic, and got busy witli the communicator. Half an hour later he sighed and blanked the screen. "They’re sending up a squadron to inter- cept hlorrison. But they’re scared. They’re scared of the Star. I’ve promi.sed them - and nothing had better happen, Durham." Durham said, "We’d better send word to JiiHi.” For what seemed an eternity they fled through the green blaze of the sun, after the ship Durham could no longer sec. And ahead of the lifeboat, a light and a portent in the void, went the Bitter Star with its attendant shadows. And Durham, too, be- gan to worry, he was not sure why. Jubb's flagship closed up to them, a vast dark whale beside a minnow. And after a while a tiny bright ball that was a planet came spinning toward them. Karlovic pointed. Flung like a net across space, between them and the planet, was a scries of glitter- ing metallic flecks. "Tlie squadron.” The communicator buzzed. Karlovic snapped it on, and the face of a Nantan oflicer appeared on the screen. "We h.ivc Morrison," he said. "Come no clo.ser with tlie Star." Karlovic spoke to the darkbird. Durham’s hands, heavy with weariness, slow'ed tlie lifeboat until it hung almost motionless. Jubb’s great dark cruiser slowed also. Above and between them burned the Bitter Star. It had ceased to move. Durham said, '"riie Star will come no closer.”

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90 PLANET STORIES "Mr. Karlovic," said die Nantan. "Bring your lifeboat in slowly, and alone." The lifeboat came in among the ships of the squadron. "Now," said die Nantan officer, "with- draw the Star.” Karlovic said, "Jubb will do so — " "No," said Durham suddenly, "Jubb will not Look there!" SHINING with a furious light tbe Star had torn itself away from the clustering shadows diat hung around it. Durham’s heart congealed with a fore- taste of icy death. The face of the Nantan officer paled, and Karlovic said in a voice that was not like liis voice at all, "I must talk to Jubb." He reached out to shift their single screen, and the Nantan officer said, "Wait, he is speaking on our alternate. I can adjust the scanner — " Tlie picture flopped, blurred, and cleared again, showing now in addition to the officer a part of the Nantan’s alternate- channel screen. Jubb was speaking, and it seemed to Durham tliat the Senyan’s strange face was clearly, humanly alarmed. He said, "I cannot withdraw the Star. N(\ this is not a lie, a trick — hold your fire; you idiots! I'm the only hope you have now. "nie Star has profited by the lesson of its docility a thousand years ago, when it let itself be led back into captivity. Now it has grown, too much. It cannot be brought back to any world." Durham looked out at the beautiful deadly tiling blazing so splendidly in the void. "Can it be destroyed?" "Tlie darkbirds can destroy it," said Jubb. "If they will." The Nantan officer, speaking from lips the color of ashes, said to the image of Jubb on the screen, "You have one minute to get it out of here before I fire." Jubb turned his face away and spoke, to something they could not see. Durliam turned to Karlovic. "He said, Tf they will.' Does that mean — " "I told you," said Karlovic, looking out the port, "that the darkbirds were created to guard the Star, And that, in a way, they love it Who can say how much?" They watched. Out in space the little cloud of darkbirds moved toward the Star, llien, hesitantly, they stopped. "They won’t,” said Karlovic, in a whis- per. "Not even for Jubb." Again Jubb spoke to the unseen messen- ger, as quietly as tliough it was a casual order. And presently a troubled movement tippled the swirling darkbuds. Suddenly they moved, again herding the Star. Slowly at first, then more and mote swiftly until it was only a streak of bril- liant light, the darkbirds drove the Star straight toward the sun. And it was less a driving than an urging, a tempting, a prom- ise of glory, a sweet betraying call from tlie mouth of tlie eternal Judas. The dark- birds led it, and it followed them. In a moment, in that greater blaze, the Star was lost to view. Karlovic’s breath came out of him in a long sigh. "The only way it could be de- stroyed. Even its appetite for thermal energy could not swallow a sun.” "The darkbirds are coming back," Dur- ham said. Then, wonderingly, "But tliey’re not — " The darkbirds were coming back from the green sun, but not toward Jubb's ship. And not toward any planet. They were fly- ing like blurring shadows toward outer space, and if they heard Jubb’s calling voice they paid no heed at all. "They’re gone," Karlovic said, unbe- lievingly. "Yes," said Jubb, very slowly. "They obeyed that order, but it was the last." He looked at the humans facing him, tlie men of Earth and the men., of Nanta Dik, and he said, "Do you see now that there is no difference between us, that we of Senya Dik can teach betrayal just like men?" Durham looked out into the shining void, but there was no sign now of the fleet and flying shadows. Intelligences, minds, beyond the understanding of heavy creatures like him.self and Jubb. He wondered how far they would go, how long tliey would live, what things they would see. Darkbirds, darkbirds, will you come back some day when we of flesh are ghosts and shadows, to frolic on our lonely worlds?

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91 THE VIZIGRAPH THE VIZIGRAPH iCon/i»utd from f'age 5) Bssential thin^ it bus bcca so long assun^d to be. Mr. Tuning claims, joj-ouslf no doubt, tliat he has seen no signs of its popularity waning, innocent' ly assuming that the import of my letter W'as that in a week or so, people would say, “Oh, I’m bored with this Sex routine. To heck with it! I’m going to collect butterflies instead,’' and that Sex would then Yanish from the cartli, an obsolete pastime. Mr. Tuning tlicn goes on to aMiogt^e for not having lived under a rock . . . but that’s all right; we understand that some landlords are a bit particular about their tenants. Mr. Tuning, climbing bis soapbox and puffing slightly, tiien goes on to make tiie thunderous ob' servatioQ that "Sex has proved to be a satisfactory method of propagating tlie race for quite some time DOW — longer than you or I are capable of grasping." I said it before, Little Willie, and I reiterate: Sex has proved to be most unsatisfactop', and for the salient reasons backing up this claim I refer you to my original letter on the subject . . . which reasons 1 still And most convincing and irrefutable. Also, in passing, may I say, Mr. Tuning, that I wish you would refrain from telling me "what I am capable of grasping"? I don’t belie%’e you are qualified to do so; whether you are qualilied for «i0ything would be an interesting topic for discuS' sion ... for somebody else to undertake. Tm prejudiced. Altliough I fail to see how Plato happened to be dragged into this, 1 will admit that 1 did not know that he "decried sex as retarding his v.'ork.’’ At least, I did not know that Ite, in particul.ir, thus decried it; 1 do know that the sentiment has been rather common through the ages among men (and women) who have work to do, as opposed to those who merely attend to their jobs. Whether or not Plato was homosexual is entirely irrelevant — and, at that, homosexuality is nothing but another aspect that Sexuality which you, Mr. Tuning, praise and designate as Imimortal, Holy, Purifying, Exalting or what-have-you. The only objective (note tliat word "objective”; please eschew all aJ bominem conclu* lions) difference between homo- and hetero-sexuality lies in the matter of fecundation. That we were created with sex I do not deny, Dor see any need to do so. And because tliere was "ffiroughout time” the impulse for man and woman to cleave to each other is no reason at all to assume that such will forever be the case. I will AOt give you opportunity to "deflate (my) ar^- ■lents” concerning cases where men have not needed women, for I present no such arguments. What has gone before fails to interest me. I am not concerned with men needing women any more than I am with stallions needing mares, dogs needing bitches, etc. What I am concerned with is the possibility tfaat Sex is just a phase in e>*olution, and that there may (and 2 bclicv'c, sitould) be a totally different method of propagation in some dim future, when, perhaps, humans will be not quite so pitiably human, end ^ dominant life-form or our time (tliat’s us) will be regarded as something similar to amoebae. ^mewhere else in the \1ZJ, a charming female said "pboo” to me, in re the same subject, saJd female being one Elinor Busby. At that, she was somewhat mote concise, and considerably more real- istic than the self-styled "Unde.** She says that sex is the most intimate possible rclatioosbip between two humans. Ah-ah, Elinor; never beard of telepathy? Or aren’t you a Believer? 'Then there was something about women not being women, tlie hidden meaning of which I have not been able to ascertain. And then, the good Elinor says ... ah, then, she says, "At its best. Sex is fun.” Hoo-ray! At last, a keen, incisive di^nitioa and raxjoM (teift. Vou are so right, fortunately ox un- fortunately, as the preference may be. You have. hit it, Miss B.: Sex is the height of hedonism. Yours sincerely, Nouxan J. Ci-.m:ki E PLURIBUS TENNESSEE Route No. 4 Trenton, Tcnn. Dear Editor, I’m sincere. I like PLANET, Maybe the dollar enclosed will help pro%'e tliis. Yes, I’m subbing to PLANET. May the Ghodi of fandom have mercy on me. Attention lovable Uncle Bill Tuning, don't you think that you’re making an ass out of your own Starved little ego? Let me be frank, Bill, I ve tlwavs enjoyed reading your sage (you said so yourself, remember?) comments on life and fandom. But conte a little closer, I will tell yem a few facts, la the first place, Tennessee Williams is one of the best of the current crop of writers, and athough I liked Hemingway’s THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA I find very little of his other fiction appealing. Not that this means anything, but calling fans as.ses just because you disagree with their Ukes in authors is going one or three steps too far. Some- how, the dirt on paper rarely seems to come com- pletely out of the writer and on to tlie printed page. It stays on hts own hands. . . . Have I made my point? 1 like your letters, Uncle Bill, but 1 do hai« to sec you make a fool of yourself. A word to John Oiurtois. John, my boy, I don't think you owe anybody an apology. What you s»d I took as your way of trying to be funny. Maybe it’s another case of wearing that old sEm. If, of course, it fits. But still give the boy, Courtois, one illo for bis guts. Next, comes Joe Keogh, and Val Walker. Sincerely, Jambs Leu u THE BIG PULP SECRET 1014 N. Tuckuhoc St. Falls Church, Va. Dc.sr Jack, By George, it is a plea.sure to win an original; I was no end surprised. While we’re on the subject of illustrations, I note one Victor Paananen's conv parison of Finlay and Freas. My boy, this just isn’t done! Granted, Frank isn't Finlay's successor, he is one darn good artist. Unfortunately, you haven't seen his best work. And it is for the very same reason that you haven’t seen Finlay in PS at all. Ml let you in on a secret: PLANET does not use the best quality book paper. It uses what is quaintly regarded as "pulp" paper. Due to this fact, the printing quality is not all it miglit be. This is no criticism of tlie printers (tlicy may be reading this . . . ), but line-line work simply won’t priiU on pulp paper. 1 believe Lowndes tried it once on one of h!s mags — he nevex used Finlay on that paper ag.iin.

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92 PLANET STOHIES Now it happens that Finby has one major style. He does exquisite line worlc. He is undouhtroly » craftsman. But Freas has it all over Finlay in that he is versatile. Getting over to Emsh, 1 suppose I should be very entliusiastic about him, since he is (almost) a local boy, coming from nearl>y Maryland. But frank- ly, I consider him the mass-producer of r.icdiocril^. However, his work does adapt to pulp, and he is prolific, so I guess he’ll continue to sell. I feel that at this point 1 must take up my crusade where I left off by answering Musscll & Butcher's letter. Friends, as most of us know, the westerns and detectives and loves all h.ivc a much larger audience than poor ol' stf. And because of this, a lot of publishers have been putting out all sorts of trash. But because they are selling is no excuse for poor stf. Not that PS is exactly sub-par, y’undcrstand. But PS is behind the times. Beauty may be only skin deep, but all too many of today’s dealers and buyers go by the skin beauty. And I think Jack would be the last to deny that a beautiful format and cover, etc. can help sales. Stf buyers are much more selective. But actually, that’s not the point. Mags that aren't put on display just don’t sell. And pulps just aren't getting the display tliey used to get. I am not suggesting t!mt PS drop the VIZI; Fd he the first to protest. 1 am not suggesting that a different fiction policy he assumed. PLANET hasn't really changed since 1939, if that's when it first appeared. ... It needs a change in format. A healthy change. Because without it, you won't get any PLANET at all. Fiction House did drop all their other pulps, y'know. And I believe they dropped their other publications too, tliough I'm not sure on that. I’d hate to see PS follow suit. You know, I kinda thot that Budrys hadn't done tlie Winter cover. It’s nice to sec it all straightened up. For that matter, give first prize for letters to Aigis, so he can have the von Stroheim. Second to "Uncle Bill," and third to Courtois for the infernal nerve to unbunicn himself. Strikes me tliat he had "quit writing to PS’’ or some such thing. Amazing how long it take.s him to taper off. But Pat, you forgot the most important reason someone writes to PLANET: to get an original! May- be that’s why I've decided to take up letter-hacking, eh? Really, I seem to have reversed things a little by being a letter-hack after becoming an actifan. Tbd E. White DSEF GOES THE PONIARD Box 1315 La Grande, Oregon Dear Sir, I purchased a copy of your magazine a few days ago and was rather startled to see the reincarnation or a long dead ghost. Your publication resembles die ancient issues of the early ASTOUNDING era, circa 1933-38. You seem to place it on the news racks complete with idiotic letters and arguments of fen vs. fan, and ish for issue. I have a sneaking feeling tliat there is a faint whiff of plagarism, in style if not content I wonder about these people that haunt your letters pages. Are they true ghosts or are they the same ones that used to carry on the same silly letter -battles in tlie dead old days? The names are not the same but the style and the bubble-headed oral dfoolings from the thickened Mongoloid lips arc exact in every detail. I feel the same way now that I felt twenty years a^, and I wonder, minutely, for an indefinite measure of duration, if the editon of these escape foldcis of tr.ish have the same infantile measure of response to the printed word. I note with ncutrif feelings tliat your measure of circulation has forced you to curtail your publication dates and humbly point to the mental quality of your readers. With deep respect for your stories and disrespect for your correspondents, I remain, Yours truly, Jac. Du Vois SEX AND SUCCESS Post Office Box 56^ San Diego 12, Calif. Dear Editor, I just can't resist PLANET for several reasons. ^^ostly, it’s the wave of nostalgia that overcame me as I detected the poor little feller silting by itself on the newsstand surrounded by all those pocket sized books that arc all the rage tod.iy. PLANET is a might)' big fish in a mighty small pond these days — fact is, it might have tlie pond all to itself, for all 1 know. I hope it continues to remain in its present format for many years to come. These young whippersnap- pers c.'in't know what happy memories PLANET revives for us oldsters. What a pleasure to fondle tlie rougli paper, feel the rough edges, gaze at the wonderful gaudy cover, and to recall the iiappy years of my youth. I cut my eje teeth on DOC SAVAGE and the SPIDER and the SPICY pulps. For the pulps which constituted the SPICY stable, we New York City kids had to ride the tubes to Newark to buy them, but oh boy, they were sure worth the trouble. 'THE VANISHER in the Winter issue reminds me of the best of DOC SAVAGE from the good years (1933-38). For a few minutes I expected to find myself hack in the Hidalgo Trading Company with Doc, Ham, Monk, and Renny. Shaara’s cliff-hanger stv’le reminds me very much of Kenneth Robson's peak period. Anyw'ay, keep up the good work, Mr. Editor, and please keep holding down the fort for the pulp tradition. I have never despaired that pulps will one day regain their former glory! Before closing, I’d like to suggest that your publisher seriously consider reviving the old SPICY format. Laugh it you will, but those pulps were really good, and there's just nothing like them around today. (As George Gobel would put it, you can't hardly get them no more!) Is this true or false: Millions of pocket books are sold to guys who hunt avidly for a few descriptive passages in the text that match the "warm" scene on the cover. Well, why not declare a new deal for these guys? Why make tlicm hunt for it.^ Why not just admit that sex is here to st.iy? Put out some pulps whose editor admits that all of his writers arc instructed to include s-e-x in all manuscripts submit!^. Of course there should be no four-letter words, no blatant obscenity, but frankly advise the reader that he has indeed found a home; that every issue will provide the vicarious satisfaction he h.inkers for. Such a pulp will sell, if I’m any judge of human beings. ' For quite a few years I’ve had the notion that a publislier who had the nerve to undertake such a project, and frankly admitted it in a series of signed editorials, would be surprised and gratified at the sudden healthy upsurge in his bank wlance. But not until PLAYBOY made its appearance have I had any proof positive of my theory. If the pub- lisher of PLAYBOY had been the least bit sneaky about his policy, he would probably , be a "dead

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THE VIZICRAPH 93 ..AkV hy now. But his poluy is so utterly frank and disarming, potential censors have been stymied. Now if I had tlie .savvy and know-how of you fellows. I’d start an experimental series of pulps. I’d title them: FRESH DETECTIVE, FRESH AD- VENTURE, FRESH MVSTl'.RY, and FRESH SCI- ENCE-FICnON. I'd editorialize considerably in all four pulps about freedom from censorship, the need for a *'fresh’* approach in publishing, the evils of bluenosery, and finally 1 would state that my maga- lines while emphasizing spiciness, would de- emhasize sadism of the Mickey SptUane category. In other words: Sex is healthy if approached in an open, tongue-in-cheek fashion. That would be my editorial policy, just as it was in the original SPICY pulps of 15 years ago. Well, all of this has nothing to do with PLANET, and I seem to have gone off on a tangent. However 1 wanted to let somebody in on my ideas, even tiiough they are prdwbly impractical. Somebody in Uie pulp industry would surely have given my ideas some consideration by now. But if the bills ever start piling up, and tlie creditors ever start yapping at Mr. Scott's heels, he really ought to give my ideas a try before throwing in tlie towel. Sincerely, I. L. Jacobs CHASTE 11121 Tascosa Dr. Dallas 28, Texas Dear Jack, Well, whattaya know, a clean PLANET. I never thought I’d see the day when it didn't feature some nude pursued by an anxious male, or something of the sort Even the inside illos are strictly s-f. What happened.^ Your mother catch you at it or some- thing? I guess you realize that many of your readers buy PLANET strictly for its superb letter column. VIZI seems to have some hidden personality with which even MAIXiE can't compete. Keep it up. SIN? surely enough, George Jennings TOP KICKER llth Airborne Division Fort Campbell, Ky. Dear Sir, This short note contains a gripe against the letter that John Couriois wrote regarding Christianity and dogs. 1 suppose one can dismiss said letter as the penned effort of one wlio wrote on the spur of the momeat, and is now feeling kind of silly that the thing e\’et made the printed p.ige. 1 also feel that the editor should never have per- mitted such tripe to reach the columns of VIZI. I feel the editor made a mistake when he gave Courtois the satisfaction of seeing "that tiling” in print. Item: Dear Couriois: Sec your local pastor before going off h.df cocked about Christianity being an experiment. See your local vet before you say a dog is ”aU anifoal and all hunter.” I can tliink of a lot of animals that are "more animal” than dogs. A dog is a hunter because he must hunt to satisfy bis hunger. When someone puts raw meat in front of his nose tliree times a day he stops hunting ... but docs be stop being a dog! John, dclf,' 1 am a Qirisliart. I feel personally insuUcd when someone calls me an animal, biologi- cally or otherwise. Your letter was a personal affront to all Oiristians (and dogs). Sgt. John Ravburn LASTING IMPRESSION 2444 Valley Street Berkeley 2, Calif. Dear Editor, You had me wondering about Algis BuJiys until tlie Spring PLANET hit the stands. At first I bad visions of Science-Fiction's first All-American (■'. . . he can write, paint, edit . . .”) but now that vou printed the letter of explanation and apolo- gized in public I imagine that nothing will come of my stupendous plans. Ah, well, there’s always Jerome Bixby if we have to pick a one-man team! Fteas' artwork for Budrys' story was terrific. It may be the texture of the paper he uses, but the way tlie shadowing and blending work in together is simply overwhelming. For inside illustrations I don't think there’s a better artist than Frea.s to be had by PS. Bok and Finlay might be better than Kelly, but Senor Freas doesn’t have to worry about the competition around Love Romances. And per- sonally, I don’t care for Finlay’s work that is appear- ing DOW'; back in tlie old issues he seemed to be much better. Courtois’ letter just proves that tliere is a terrific danger encountered when being a letter-hack. If a person happens to make a mislj^e and write a letter that annoys everyone, he hasn't much chance to rectify the situation. John did, of course, but his is a rather isolated case. The tough part about it all is the letter is in print, and tliere are probably about thirty or fortv thousand copies around this nation. If a person slips up on the radio bis goof doesn’t hang around to haunt him. But a guy has to be careful w'hen writing to stf mags — especially PLANET. Extensive laboratory tests have proved that the woodpulp paper used on this fine, high- type publication can take quite a beating, and doesn’t start falling apart until at least 100 years have passed; and by that time the letter writer hardly gives a darn any more. Ever since Sol Galaxan graced your pulpy pages, PIj\NET has been infamous for the pen names it uses. And unless fifty million Frenchmen are v^rong, V. E. Thiessen is a phoney moniker. Looking back over the years I find many fascinating psucc^nyms (Olive.- R. Oslow, Byron iTustin, Evelyn Goldstein, etc.), bur none have as much power as V. E. Thics- sen. Even the great Dcrfia Lopec can not bold a candle to this magnificent example of tlie "mysterious author." Keep using such powerful pen-names . . . tliey fascinate me! In the event that you print this dashing attempt at writing scintillating prose, it may be that some readers would be interested in joining the KPIT- GOPF ("Keep PLANET In Tlie Good Old Pulpy Format”) As.sociation Uut 1 have formed. Those of you who have the desire to serve your country should write me. Perhaps we can form chapters and all that; and I plan to send Out autographed pictures ^ Geego Bcepcnshuck to all members. A truly wonder- ful organization like this deserves your support! * All the best, Don Wegars Ed's Note: Fifty million Frenchmen, led by Marshal Wegars, are wrong. The name V. E. Thiessen is as legitimate as the eagles the gentleman wore atop his shoulders when he penned CITY OF ILLU>

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n PLACET SION. He wan then Lt. Col. V. E. Thiesfrca at- tached 1*0 the Yokohama Engineer Depot. WHAT HATH VENUS? 38 IJlendwofth Crescent Leigh Park Havant ^ Hants England Dear Sir, The Winter issue of PS came my way just three days ago, and although pressure of work has not enabled me to read the professional iiction yet, I have h.id a deal of amusement out of the VIZI- GR/VPH. With your permission I would like to assist Samuel Johnson in his dissolution. Stand by Sam, you've asked for it! There is fairly evidential reasoning behind my assertion tlut only Carbon, with Silicon as a shaky runner-up, are capable of building into a living organism. The reasoning is biodrcmlcal in rtaUire and the evidence is all about us, (that ambiguity may stand); just grant me tliat the elcmeots we are aware of are the only ones available to speculate upon. Have you ever wondered what the dinercncc is between living and inert matter? Both may contain the same atoms, yet there is this amazing difference, why ? Biochemists have unearthed the extremely poignant fact tlut living matter — ^protoplasm if you like — is composed mainly of those atoms which have the ability to coagulate into large molecules. Perhaps I should have emphasized-I:XTR.^OHDINARILY lars;e. Quite obviously, from life of all varieties on this Earth, Carbon is the supreme ’'Coagulator.” Any perserse dogmatist could make an excellent case for Carbon being unique in bringing about recogniz.iblc life, but dogmatism is tlie antecedent of progress and is no concern of those participating in Science-Fiction. >xniilc on the point it might be as well to stress tlxat ruy only concern is recognizable life. The main constituents of protoplasm are. Carbon, Nitrogen, Hydrogen, and Oxygen, with dashes of Sulphur, Phosphorus, Iron, Calcium, Potassium, Sodium and Chlorine. I entirely fail to grasp why you mention Fluorine. Going forward a step, I must ask you to reread my letter. I was arguing AGAINST a critic who assumed that tlie Venusian atmosphere was mainly composed of Carbon Dioxide. Also I must comlcmn you for saying that sight observation means nothing, tlieii continuing . . . “the spectrograph is even better tlian chemical Analysis.” (!) I do not wish to be impolite out, you do have me wondering a little. A Spectrograph, to start with, is merely an apparatus for obtaining and photograph- ing a spectrum. Common sense tells us that a glorihed camera cannot hope to compete with chemical analysis when it comes to discovering the contpositioft of sometJung opaque and of depth. In any case, Spec- ttology c.an only analyse reflected light which is an improvement upon our own eyes, but the same thing in essence. Which leads me on to dispute your assertion that the Venusian atinosplKre is most probably Carbon Dioxide; luit st*mething must be corrected first. ULTRA-VIOLET, not infra-red, gives the best result when obtaining Spectrographs of Venus. This was demonstrated years ago. (By an American Astrono- mer I believe.) Also, wliatcvcr light you photograph in you do not penetrate any farther into the atmos- phcic; all Uiat occurs is penetration of HAZE. STORIES Now I must defend "Plastic Clouds.” The depth of refractive atmosphere on Venus can be estimated at five miles. (Tliis from calculations ba.sed upon the extensions of the crescent extremities when the planet is at favorable phases.) The albedo is extremely high, (six tenths), which alone supports the assumption of clouds. If the atmosphere was composed only of gases, or even gases and dust, a certain amount of blue light would be absotbed giving a reddish tinge to the reflected ligiU. (Here I must break off for a moment to apologize for an unintentional mistake in tlic letter you attack, somehow I wTOtc "above the red” instead of below. I must s.ay though that the mi.stakc was obvious, for what visible light is there in that region?) To resume, Venus, far from being reddish, is siU’cry white, and the only ex- planation within the realms of reason is, that light is rcfleeted from SOLID or LIQUID globules of matter. Markings, such as are found by observing Venus are faint, diffuse, and give the impression of being Httnospheric disturbances. This leads to an easy deduction. Atmospheric disturbances are winds, winds apart fnun zephyrs, cannot be unless tlierc is all three of. Land, Sea, Atmosphere. Right? If there are seas it is likely that we can expect water vapor. We already have Formaldehyde, and the Sun sup- plie.s plenty of Ultra-Violet light to form dte plastic. And if you want a brief explanation as to why this doesn't show up on a spectrogram, the temperature needed to vaporize this compound is only found beneath the layers that actually reflect light On to the next point. The F.arth WOULD present a reddish appearance to an observer clsewliere for reasons you have all but given yourself. Our atmosphere does absorb die shorter wave radiation because particles in the atmos- phere arc approximately equivalent in size, thus scat- tering this light while allowing the longer wave radiations to pass through relatively unimpeded. From this it is easy to see that, only tlie longer radiations will reflect with any power. I refute that the Red Moon has nothing to do with the Earth’s color. Once again, (I do wish you’d read what I say before you criticize), I did not assert that the Martian atmosphere only passes red light to the surLicc, and to say that Mars would have to be predominantly red in order to reflect that color betrays an abysmal ignorance of the physics of light. Tliere is sufficient material in this letter to further tliat statement. All I have to say to you about Retrograde satel- lites is that their motion is always assumed to be orthodox, or retrograde, relative, Not to US, Nor to tlie PLANET, but to the planetary orbit. I think perhaps you had better enquire what the ecliptic is, also tundra. Your use of both is rather bewildering. I trust that I haven’t offended you with the tone of my letter, or that you won’t blush over your statement re "Pseudo critics Gabble.” Just one last thing, your address intrigues me, will you explain it to me? To Dwayne Thorpe: How on Earth (?) did you find out? To Morgan Harris: I could enjoy a discussion on the points you raise. Willing? I would just like to venture an optniotv in this "Format” discussion. Those people I know who have read Science-Fiction for any number of years have a nostalgic affection for the large, untrimmeA pulp type of magazine, and will often buy one it

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S3 THE MZiaiiAl'H ^♦rjjy fot the atmosphere it creates. Many of the size magazines print better storied but I |>tfsonally would feel a loss if PLANET, which is iodisputahly the best of the pulps, changed. Ail the best to all, A. Keith King PAST SHUFFLE c/o Permanent Poker Game Student Union Ll’niversity of Tulsa Tufsa, Old.dioma Dear Editor, I take time out from my activities only to correct a bad impression some people may be getting about college students. I believe that die efforts of Val Walker and Bill Tuning may lead some to believe that all college students do is study. Now I, for one, have been going to college for five years and have never been to class, yet 1 have received an education of invaluable aid for tlie future. Vou see, I am learning tlie proper way to £11 an inside straight. Now I ask you, isn't that useful education.^ What will Walker and Tuning have to face the W'orld with when tliey finish college — just a mass of philosophy, psychology and literature, that's what. I doubt if either Vi'alker or Tuning could tell you the maihematK.»l chances of coming up with a royal flush three straight deals, (185,973,859,087,567,001 to 1). Now there is a jolly worthwhile bit of busi- ness. I repeat, ple.asc dear fen, don't believe that college is all work and study. The true college student never leaves the student-union, except of course for such necessities as dances, parties, basketball and football games. 1 will bet two blue chips th.st the first mao on the moon will have t(» know the proper technique of filling an inside straight: not tlie theory of some ancient philosopher. (I'll bet Mr. Henodist can't play a cfcccnt hand of poker.) Oh yes, PLANET is very good. I read it while tlie dealer shuffles. Sincerely, Jack O'Cllbs SWEET BREATH FROM THE NORTH 365 Seventh Avenue Ville Lasalle, (^e. Dominion of Cmada Dear Sir, Up into the dismal fastnesses of Quebec (or at least what we believe is the popular American con- ception of our fair province) has come the winter issue of your magazine. Like a sweet breath from heaven it dissipates our boredom and enriclies our lives with fantasy. Each new jewel it offers is more superb than the last, each delightful story an illus- tration of man’s genius. Only who would realize it from that cover? Tell me, is that beautiful face gazing at me a satire on modern woman? Perhaps Mr. Budrys intimates tliat she has too much freedom, and should have promt- sently displayed controls so that she can be turned off when need be. Then again, maybe he suggests tfut woman’s devious mind is too bard to compre- hend, and dials w’ould make it easier foe slow- witted males to understand her. Since I found no Kfercnce to the cover in the stories, I can only imagine what k represents. Seriously, though, it does fiot do jus^4 Id ]rour stories. A p!.iudit for BOTTOM IS UP. Banks has poked fun very' engagingly at an important human w’cak- nes.s: the inability of most people to probe beneath the veneer that the individual presents to the world, in order to find his real character. Curry’s THE RECLUSE invokes interesting connotations. Is man’s freedom so important to him that be will gi\e up the possibility of returning to his work, his society, and even bis family to retain it? It appears that Efffon has forgotten one thing in his otherwise en- joyable story THE ULTIMA'PE EVE. He tells us tliat Commander Ydnas had been selected after ex- tensive testing and conditioning. Therefore we must assume he was of superior intelligence. Also, as a commander, he obviously liad bad some scientific training. Yet he did what even the amateur scientist is taught not to do. He made only one test. Even supposing that blindness was unknown on his planet, he should have, and in fact would have, realized that one test for such an important weapon was not enougli. All in all, vour sliort stories were very interesting, wliile your longer ones ware some- what lower in standard. If I may be so bold, could 1 register a plea fot more "social ilicme" and philosophical stories? Of course, tlicre are tliose whose constant bowl for less thought and more action in science-fiction seems to have hypnotized many an editor. My only reply it if that is what tlicy desire, tlicy should go back to comics. What has made scicace-fiction noteworthy is not its science which is often imreliable; but its desire to analyze tiie causes of man's behavior, and its attempt to understand what effects tliis behavior will have on the future. Thus mature science fiction is more concerned with the stimulus and result of the action, while space opera glories mainly in the action itself. As can be seen, many of the recent classics in this field (Orwell's NINETEEN EIGHTY- FOUR. Fold and Kornbluth’s THE SPACE MER- CHANTS) are in the mature science-fiction class. Even the ones that aren’t (Bradbury’s THE MAR- TIAN CHRONICLES, Henlein’s THE GREEN HILLS OF EARTH) show a far deeper apprecia- tion of human character tlian is found in space opera. If science-fiction should concern itself mainly with adventure, it will e>'cntually degenerate to tlie level of other pulp fiction. "Christianity can be best described as a two thou- sand-year experiment in false logic." I can see now why Mr. Courtois annoys some of your readers. However, as Americans are so eager to point out, yours is a free country. It can only remain so as long as people follow Jolin’s example in voicing their ideas, no matter how contrary Uiey may be to public opinion. John’s views on Christianitv arc rather dogmatic and, as is usually die case with dogmatism, partially untrue. Broadly speaking, religion is composed of two basic factors — faith and morality, tlie former dealing with the supernatural or divine, and the latter with social practice. Tlierefore, this logic must be viewed in terms of both these facets. While I agree with his opinion of faith, tlie same judgment cannot be applied to morality. Why ? Simply because no one has been able to define and prove what constitutes morality. Because m-e know nothing of tlie mental and spiritual life of odic-r worlds, our conception of morality is Umited to one planet. Since we have no season to assume (or not to assume) tliat our visualization of morality has any connection with the universal or highest existing form of this, our definition of morality must needs m based simply on theorv and, thus, reni.iin incerdusive. W'c can only conclude that since man

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96 PLANET has ne^'cc proven what is goodness, he can never make die sweeping claim that any morai pattern is ioghai or illogical. Which is what our friend in his conceit has done. But if we cannot prove what is morality, how can we assess the merits of Chris- tianity :i5 an ethical doctrine? The native of New Guinea a few centuries ago found eating his enemies a logical part of his social ^ttern. On the other hand, the American or Canadian would not. Thus I belic^'c tlut any conception of goodness can only be valued in relation to the news of the society it controls. Civilization (in the modern sense of the term) is highly complex, with many factors intcrnieshing and interdepending upon one anotlier within it. Co-operation is essential in such a structure, for if people or nations strive simply for their own per- sonal entianity is illogical because it doesn't allow us to mate, steal, or lull whe-n wc wish (although this doesn’t seem to hinder some people). Unfor- tunately, he has not examined the pioblc'm very carc'fuliy. For co-operation to succeed people must trust one another. They can hardly do this if they are constantly hurting each other — whether it Iw by stealing, killing or erratic mating. Hence our mord code which attempts to stop these paio-inflicting actions and thus create a mood of trust among people. Gradually, of course, tlic moral code bccoines a legal one and thus receives a greater assurance that it will be heeded. Of course man is frustrated. However, ratlier than this being the fault of Christianity, it results from the tragedy that man has gained great scientific knowl''dgc, while hb moral maturity has not kept pace. Frustration is caused by the fact that he is a violent aniuul given to physical expression in a society, wiiich bwause of its scientific power, cannot tolerate violence. WiUt tlie advent of the thermo- nuclear weapon, this conflict between the scientific and moral natures of man is accentuated. Thus tlie frustration, at least nationally, is likely to grow worse. We have two choices. Either we give way to these frustrations as Jolm intimates we should, and destroy our civilization; or wc conquer the socially destructive habits and the desires that emanate from them, and go on to create our '‘utopia." llius John has actually twisted the mean- ing to be derived from hb example. He claims that STORIES Christianity b bad becau.se it does not allow man to do what he wants. In reality, this b good, for. as 1 have shown, by doing so Christianity b protect- ing man's social structure and his progress. The summing up can perliaps be shown more clearly la a syllogistic form. Major Premise: co-operation b essential to civiliza- tion. Minor Premise: Oiristianity, by eradicating socially destructive habits and creating trust among people, induces co-operation. Conclusion; therefore the moral doctrines of Chris- tianity are essential and thus logical. John claims that he docs not take himself serious- ly. One wonders if tiiis could not be a means of saving face when the replies to his letters start pouring in. In closing, let me congratulate you on your policy of controversy in the VIZICRAPH. It is one of the best letter columns I have come across in a science- fiction magazine. So 'til PLANET becomes planet-wiJc, I remain, Gl-EN SlHDR.\$$B PROGNOSTICATOR? Box 72 Kilgore, Texas Dear Editor: STARTLING STORIES has gone from bi-monthly to quarterly and has combined with its two compan- ion magazines. That makes tliree paper pulps left, I believe, in the entire science-fiction' field. PLANET is through. 1 now see that you have no intention of dianging PLANET. So ITl .say good bye now . . . because when this letter appears in the shredded pages of PLANET it will probably be the last issue. 'Bye for always, Jim Georgb ART SUPREME P. O. Box 15d5 Marysville, Calif. Dear Sir; I've read and re-read Mr. Marmor's letter and cao come to only one conclusion: he can't be pleased. An- other Joe K.? He should remember a picture b worth many, many words. Keep Freas and Emsh, by all means. Eaougli. . . . Yours truly. Johnny Fiutx

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