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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Missing Link
+
+Author: Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23210]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISSING LINK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Markus Brenner and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISSING LINK
+
+BY FRANK HERBERT
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science
+Fiction, Volume LXII No. 6, February 1959. Extensive research did not
+uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was
+renewed.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_The Romantics used to say that the eyes were the windows of the Soul.
+A good Alien Xenologist might not put it quite so poetically ... but he
+can, if he’s sharp, read a lot in the look of an eye!_
+
+Illustrated by van Dongen
+
+
+
+“We ought to scrape this planet clean of every living thing on it,”
+muttered Umbo Stetson, section chief of Investigation & Adjustment.
+
+Stetson paced the landing control bridge of his scout cruiser. His
+footsteps grated on a floor that was the rear wall of the bridge during
+flight. But now the ship rested on its tail fins—all four hundred
+glistening red and black meters of it. The open ports of the bridge
+looked out on the jungle roof of Gienah III some one hundred fifty
+meters below. A butter yellow sun hung above the horizon, perhaps an
+hour from setting.
+
+“Clean as an egg!” he barked. He paused in his round of the bridge,
+glared out the starboard port, spat into the fire-blackened circle that
+the cruiser’s jets had burned from the jungle.
+
+The I-A section chief was dark-haired, gangling, with large head and big
+features. He stood in his customary slouch, a stance not improved by
+sacklike patched blue fatigues. Although on this present operation he
+rated the flag of a division admiral, his fatigues carried no insignia.
+There was a general unkempt, straggling look about him.
+
+Lewis Orne, junior I-A field man with a maiden diploma, stood at the
+opposite port, studying the jungle horizon. Now and then he glanced at
+the bridge control console, the chronometer above it, the big translite
+map of their position tilted from the opposite bulkhead. A heavy planet
+native, he felt vaguely uneasy on this Gienah III with its gravity of
+only seven-eighths Terran Standard. The surgical scars on his neck where
+the micro-communications equipment had been inserted itched maddeningly.
+He scratched.
+
+“Hah!” said Stetson. “Politicians!”
+
+A thin black insect with shell-like wings flew in Orne’s port, settled
+in his close-cropped red hair. Orne pulled the insect gently from his
+hair, released it. Again it tried to land in his hair. He ducked. It
+flew across the bridge, out the port beside Stetson.
+
+There was a thick-muscled, no-fat look to Orne, but something about his
+blocky, off-center features suggested a clown.
+
+“I’m getting tired of waiting,” he said.
+
+“_You’re_ tired! Hah!”
+
+A breeze rippled the tops of the green ocean below them. Here and there,
+red and purple flowers jutted from the verdure, bending and nodding like
+an attentive audience.
+
+“Just look at that blasted jungle!” barked Stetson. “Them and their
+stupid orders!”
+
+A call bell tinkled on the bridge control console. The red light above
+the speaker grid began blinking. Stetson shot an angry glance at it.
+“Yeah, Hal?”
+
+“O.K., Stet. Orders just came through. We use Plan C. ComGO says to
+brief the field man, and jet out of here.”
+
+“Did you ask them about using another field man?”
+
+Orne looked up attentively.
+
+The speaker said: “Yes. They said we have to use Orne because of the
+records on the _Delphinus_.”
+
+“Well then, will they give us more time to brief him?”
+
+“Negative. It’s crash priority. ComGO expects to blast the planet
+anyway.”
+
+Stetson glared at the grid. “Those fat-headed, lard-bottomed,
+pig-brained ... POLITICIANS!” He took two deep breaths, subsided. “O.K.
+Tell them we’ll comply.”
+
+“One more thing, Stet.”
+
+“What now?”
+
+“I’ve got a confirmed contact.”
+
+Instantly, Stetson was poised on the balls of his feet, alert. “Where?”
+
+“About ten kilometers out. Section AAB-6.”
+
+“How many?”
+
+“A mob. You want I should count them?”
+
+“No. What’re they doing?”
+
+“Making a beeline for us. You better get a move on.”
+
+“O.K. Keep us posted.”
+
+“Right.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stetson looked across at his junior field man. “Orne, if you decide you
+want out of this assignment, you just say the word. I’ll back you to the
+hilt.”
+
+“Why should I want out of my first field assignment?”
+
+“Listen, and find out.” Stetson crossed to a tilt-locker behind the big
+translite map, hauled out a white coverall uniform with gold insignia,
+tossed it to Orne. “Get into these while I brief you on the map.”
+
+“But this is an R&R uni—” began Orne.
+
+“Get that uniform on your ugly frame!”
+
+“Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir. Right away, sir. But I thought I was
+through with old Rediscovery & Reeducation when you drafted me off of
+Hamal into the I-A ... sir.” He began changing from the I-A blue to the
+R&R white. Almost as an afterthought, he said: “... Sir.”
+
+A wolfish grin cracked Stetson’s big features. “I’m soooooo happy you
+have the proper attitude of subservience toward authority.”
+
+Orne zipped up the coverall uniform. “Oh, yes, sir ... sir.”
+
+“O.K., Orne, pay attention.” Stetson gestured at the map with its green
+superimposed grid squares. “Here we are. Here’s that city we flew over
+on our way down. You’ll head for it as soon as we drop you. The place is
+big enough that if you hold a course roughly northeast you can’t miss
+it. We’re—”
+
+Again the call bell rang.
+
+“What is it this time, Hal?” barked Stetson.
+
+“They’ve changed to Plan H, Stet. New orders cut.”
+
+“Five days?”
+
+“That’s all they can give us. ComGO says he can’t keep the information
+out of High Commissioner Bullone’s hands any longer than that.”
+
+“It’s five days for sure then.”
+
+“Is this the usual R&R foul-up?” asked Orne.
+
+Stetson nodded. “Thanks to Bullone and company! We’re just one jump
+ahead of catastrophe, but they still pump the bushwah into the Rah & Rah
+boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta!”
+
+“You’re making light of my revered alma mater,” said Orne. He struck a
+pose. “We must reunite the lost planets with our centers of culture and
+industry, and take up the _glor_-ious onward march of mankind that was
+so _bru_-tally—”
+
+“Can it!” snapped Stetson. “We both know we’re going to rediscover one
+planet too many some day. Rim War all over again. But this is a
+different breed of fish. It’s not, repeat, _not_ a _re_-discovery.”
+
+Orne sobered. “Alien?”
+
+“Yes. A-L-I-E-N! A never-before-contacted culture. That language you
+were force fed on the way over, that’s an alien language. It’s not
+complete ... all we have off the _minis_. And we excluded data on the
+natives because we’ve been hoping to dump this project and nobody the
+wiser.”
+
+“Holy mazoo!”
+
+“Twenty-six days ago an I-A search ship came through here, had a routine
+mini-sneaker look at the place. When he combed in his net of sneakers to
+check the tapes and films, lo and behold, he had a little stranger.”
+
+“One of _theirs_?”
+
+“No. It was a _mini_ off the _Delphinus Rediscovery_. The _Delphinus_
+has been unreported for eighteen standard months!”
+
+“Did it crack up here?”
+
+“We don’t know. If it did, we haven’t been able to spot it. She was
+supposed to be way off in the Balandine System by now. But we’ve
+something else on our minds. It’s the one item that makes me want to
+blot out this place, and run home with my tail between my legs. We’ve
+a—”
+
+Again the call bell chimed.
+
+“NOW WHAT?” roared Stetson into the speaker.
+
+“I’ve got a _mini_ over that mob, Stet. They’re talking about us. It’s a
+definite raiding party.”
+
+“What armament?”
+
+“Too gloomy in that jungle to be sure. The infra beam’s out on this
+_mini_. Looks like hard pellet rifles of some kind. Might even be off
+the _Delphinus_.”
+
+“Can’t you get closer?”
+
+“Wouldn’t do any good. No light down there, and they’re moving up fast.”
+
+“Keep an eye on them, but don’t ignore the other sectors,” said Stetson.
+
+“You think I was born yesterday?” barked the voice from the grid. The
+contact broke off with an angry sound.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“One thing I like about the I-A,” said Stetson. “It collects such
+even-tempered types.” He looked at the white uniform on Orne, wiped a
+hand across his mouth as though he’d tasted something dirty.
+
+“Why _am_ I wearing this thing?” asked Orne.
+
+“Disguise.”
+
+“But there’s no mustache!”
+
+Stetson smiled without humor. “That’s one of I-A’s answers to those
+fat-keistered politicians. We’re setting up our own search system to
+find the planets before _they_ do. We’ve managed to put spies in key
+places at R&R. Any touchy planets our spies report, we divert the
+files.”
+
+“Then what?”
+
+“Then we look into them with bright boys like you—disguised as R&R
+field men.”
+
+“Goody, goody. And what happens if R&R stumbles onto me while I’m down
+there playing patty cake?”
+
+“We disown you.”
+
+“But you said an I-A ship found this joint.”
+
+“It did. And then one of our spies in R&R intercepted a _routine_
+request for an agent-instructor to be assigned here with full equipment.
+Request signed by a First-Contact officer name of Diston ... of the
+_Delphinus_!”
+
+“But the Del—”
+
+“Yeah. Missing. The request was a forgery. Now you see why I’m mostly
+for rubbing out this place. Who’d dare forge such a thing unless he knew
+for sure that the original FC officer was missing ... or dead?”
+
+“What the jumped up mazoo are we doing here, Stet?” asked Orne. “Alien
+calls for a full contact team with all of the—”
+
+“It calls for one planet-buster bomb ... buster—in five days. Unless
+you give them a white bill in the meantime. High Commissioner Bullone
+will have word of this planet by then. If Gienah III still exists in
+five days, can’t you imagine the fun the politicians’ll have with it?
+Mama mia! We want this planet cleared for contact or dead before then.”
+
+“I don’t like this, Stet.”
+
+“YOU don’t like it!”
+
+“Look,” said Orne. “There must be another way. Why ... when we teamed up
+with the Alerinoids we gained five hundred years in the physical
+sciences alone, not to mention the—”
+
+“The Alerinoids didn’t knock over one of our survey ships first.”
+
+“What if the _Delphinus_ just crashed here ... and the locals picked up
+the pieces?”
+
+“That’s what you’re going in to find out, Orne. But answer me this: If
+they _do_ have the _Delphinus_, how long before a tool-using race could
+be a threat to the galaxy?”
+
+“I saw that city they built, Stet. They could be dug in within six
+months, and there’d be no—”
+
+“Yeah.”
+
+Orne shook his head. “But think of it: Two civilizations that matured
+along different lines! Think of all the different ways we’d approach the
+same problems ... the lever that’d give us for—”
+
+“You sound like a Uni-Galacta lecture! Are you through marching arm in
+arm into the misty future?”
+
+Orne took a deep breath. “Why’s a freshman like me being tossed into
+this dish?”
+
+“You’d still be on the _Delphinus_ master lists as an R&R field man.
+That’s important if you’re masquerading.”
+
+“Am I the only one? I know I’m a recent _convert_, but—”
+
+“You want out?”
+
+“I didn’t say that. I just want to know why I’m—”
+
+“Because the bigdomes fed a set of requirements into one of their iron
+monsters. Your card popped out. They were looking for somebody capable,
+dependable ... and ... _expendable_!”
+
+“Hey!”
+
+“That’s why I’m down here briefing you instead of sitting back on a
+flagship. _I_ got you into the I-A. Now, you listen carefully: If you
+push the panic button on this one without cause, I will personally flay
+you alive. We both know the advantages of an alien contact. But if you
+get into a hot spot, and call for help, I’ll dive this cruiser into that
+city to get you out!”
+
+Orne swallowed. “Thanks, Stet. I’m—”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“We’re going to take up a tight orbit. Out beyond us will be five
+transports full of I-A marines and a Class IX Monitor with one
+planet-buster. You’re calling the shots, God help you! First, we want to
+know if they have the _Delphinus_ ... and if so, where it is. Next, we
+want to know just how warlike these goons are. Can we control them if
+they’re bloodthirsty. What’s their potential?”
+
+“In five days?”
+
+“Not a second more.”
+
+“What do we know about them?”
+
+“Not much. They look something like an ancient Terran chimpanzee ...
+only with blue fur. Face is hairless, pink-skinned.” Stetson snapped a
+switch. The translite map became a screen with a figure frozen on it.
+“Like that. This is life size.”
+
+“Looks like the missing link they’re always hunting for,” said Orne.
+“Yeah, but you’ve got a different kind of a missing link.”
+
+“Vertical-slit pupils in their eyes,” said Orne. He studied the figure.
+It had been caught from the front by a mini-sneaker camera. About five
+feet tall. The stance was slightly bent forward, long arms. Two vertical
+nose slits. A flat, lipless mouth. Receding chin. Four-fingered hands.
+It wore a wide belt from which dangled neat pouches and what looked like
+tools, although their use was obscure. There appeared to be the tip of a
+tail protruding from behind one of the squat legs. Behind the creature
+towered the faery spires of the city they’d observed from the air.
+
+“Tails?” asked Orne.
+
+“Yeah. They’re arboreal. Not a road on the whole planet that we can
+find. But there are lots of vine lanes through the jungles.” Stetson’s
+face hardened. “Match _that_ with a city as advanced as that one.”
+
+“Slave culture?”
+
+“Probably.”
+
+“How many cities have they?”
+
+“We’ve found two. This one and another on the other side of the planet.
+But the other one’s a ruin.”
+
+“A ruin? Why?”
+
+“You tell us. Lots of mysteries here.”
+
+“What’s the planet like?”
+
+“Mostly jungle. There are polar oceans, lakes and rivers. One low
+mountain chain follows the equatorial belt about two thirds around the
+planet.”
+
+“But only two cities. Are you sure?”
+
+“Reasonably so. It’d be pretty hard to miss something the size of that
+thing we flew over. It must be fifty kilometers long and at least ten
+wide. Swarming with these creatures, too. We’ve got a zone-count
+estimate that places the city’s population at over thirty million.”
+
+“Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too.”
+
+“We don’t know much about this place, Orne. And unless you bring them
+into the fold, there’ll be nothing but ashes for our archaeologists to
+pick over.”
+
+“Seems a dirty shame.”
+
+“I agree, but—”
+
+The call bell jangled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stetson’s voice sounded tired: “Yeah, Hal?”
+
+“That mob’s only about five kilometers out, Stet. We’ve got Orne’s gear
+outside in the disguised air sled.”
+
+“We’ll be right down.”
+
+“Why a disguised sled?” asked Orne.
+
+“If they think it’s a ground buggy, they might get careless when you
+most need an advantage. We could always scoop you out of the air, you
+know.”
+
+“What’re my chances on this one, Stet?”
+
+Stetson shrugged. “I’m afraid they’re slim. These goons probably have
+the _Delphinus_, and they want you just long enough to get your
+equipment and everything you know.”
+
+“Rough as that, eh?”
+
+“According to our best guess. If you’re not out in five days, we blast.”
+
+Orne cleared his throat.
+
+“Want out?” asked Stetson.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Use the _back-door_ rule, son. Always leave yourself a way out. Now ...
+let’s check that equipment the surgeons put in your neck.” Stetson put a
+hand to his throat. His mouth remained closed, but there was a
+surf-hissing voice in Orne’s ears: “You read me?”
+
+“Sure. I can—”
+
+“No!” hissed the voice. “Touch the mike contact. Keep your mouth closed.
+Just use your speaking muscles without speaking.”
+
+Orne obeyed.
+
+“O.K.,” said Stetson. “You come in loud and clear.”
+
+“I ought to. I’m right on top of you!”
+
+“There’ll be a relay ship over you all the time,” said Stetson. “Now ...
+when you’re not touching that mike contact this rig’ll still feed us
+what you say ... and everything that goes on around you, too. We’ll
+monitor everything. Got that?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Stetson held out his right hand. “Good luck. I meant that about diving
+in for you. Just say the word.”
+
+“I know the word, too,” said Orne. “HELP!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles between monstrous bluish tree
+trunks—that was the jungle. Only the barest weak glimmering of sunlight
+penetrated to the mud. The disguised sled—its para-grav units turned
+off—lurched and skidded around buttress roots. Its headlights swung in
+wild arcs across the trunks and down to the mud. Aerial creepers—great
+looping vines of them—swung down from the towering forest ceiling. A
+steady drip of condensation spattered the windshield, forcing Orne to
+use the wipers.
+
+In the bucket seat of the sled’s cab, Orne fought the controls. He was
+plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating sensation that a heavy planet
+native always feels in lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy stomach.
+
+Things skipped through the air around the lurching vehicle: flitting and
+darting things. Insects came in twin cones, siphoned toward the
+headlights. There was an endless chittering whistling tok-tok-toking in
+the gloom beyond the lights.
+
+Stetson’s voice hissed suddenly through the surgically implanted
+speaker: “How’s it look?”
+
+“Alien.”
+
+“Any sign of that mob?”
+
+“Negative.”
+
+“O.K. We’re taking off.”
+
+Behind Orne, there came a deep rumbling roar that receded as the scout
+cruiser climbed its jets. All other sounds hung suspended in
+after-silence, then resumed: the strongest first and then the weakest.
+
+A heavy object suddenly arced through the headlights, swinging on a
+vine. It disappeared behind a tree. Another. Another. Ghostly shadows
+with vine pendulums on both sides. Something banged down heavily onto
+the hood of the sled.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Orne braked to a creaking stop that shifted the load behind him, found
+himself staring through the windshield at a native of Gienah III. The
+native crouched on the hood, a Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in his
+right hand directed at Orne’s head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, Orne
+recognized the weapon: standard issue to the marine guards on all R&R
+survey ships.
+
+The native appeared the twin of the one Orne had seen on the translite
+screen. The four-fingered hand looked extremely capable around the stock
+of the Mark XX.
+
+Slowly, Orne put a hand to his throat, pressed the contact button. He
+moved his speaking muscles: _“Just made contact with the mob. One on the
+hood now has one of our Mark XX rifles aimed at my head.”_
+
+The surf-hissing of Stetson’s voice came through the hidden speaker:
+_“Want us to come back?”_
+
+_“Negative. Stand by. He looks cautious rather than hostile.”_
+
+Orne held up his right hand, palm out. He had a second thought: held up
+his left hand, too. Universal symbol of peaceful intentions: empty
+hands. The gun muzzle lowered slightly. Orne called into his mind the
+language that had been hypnoforced into him. _Ocheero? No. That means
+‘The People.’ Ah ..._ And he had the heavy fricative greeting sound.
+
+“Ffroiragrazzi,” he said.
+
+The native shifted to the left, answered in pure, unaccented High
+Galactese: “Who are you?”
+
+Orne fought down a sudden panic. The lipless mouth had looked so odd
+forming the familiar words.
+
+Stetson’s voice hissed: _“Is that the native speaking Galactese?”_
+
+Orne touched his throat. _“You heard him.”_
+
+He dropped his hand, said: “I am Lewis Orne of Rediscovery and
+Reeducation. I was sent here at the request of the First-Contact officer
+on the _Delphinus Rediscovery_.”
+
+“Where is your ship?” demanded the Gienahn.
+
+“It put me down and left.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“It was behind schedule for another appointment.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Out of the corners of his eyes, Orne saw more shadows dropping to the
+mud around him. The sled shifted as someone climbed onto the load behind
+the cab. The someone scuttled agilely for a moment.
+
+The native climbed down to the cab’s side step, opened the door. The
+rifle was held at the ready. Again, the lipless mouth formed Galactese
+words: “What do you carry in this ... vehicle?”
+
+“The equipment every R&R field man uses to help the people of a
+rediscovered planet improve themselves.” Orne nodded at the rifle.
+“Would you mind pointing that weapon some other direction? It makes me
+nervous.”
+
+The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly on Orne’s middle. The native’s
+mouth opened, revealing long canines. “Do we not look strange to you?”
+
+“I take it there’s been a heavy mutational variation in the humanoid
+norm on this planet,” said Orne. “What is it? Hard radiation?”
+
+No answer.
+
+“It doesn’t really make any difference, of course,” said Orne. “I’m here
+to help you.”
+
+“I am Tanub, High Path Chief of the Grazzi,” said the native. “I decide
+who is to help.”
+
+Orne swallowed.
+
+“Where do you go?” demanded Tanub.
+
+“I was hoping to go to your city. Is it permitted?”
+
+A long pause while the vertical-slit pupils of Tanub’s eyes expanded and
+contracted. “It is permitted.”
+
+Stetson’s voice came through the hidden speaker: _“All bets off. We’re
+coming in after you. That Mark XX is the final straw. It means they have
+the_ Delphinus _for sure!”_
+
+Orne touched his throat. _“No! Give me a little more time!”_
+
+_“Why?”_
+
+_“I have a hunch about these creatures.”_
+
+_“What is it?”_
+
+_“No time now. Trust me.”_
+
+Another long pause in which Orne and Tanub continued to study each
+other. Presently, Stetson said: _“O.K. Go ahead as planned. But find out
+where the_ Delphinus _is! If we get that back we pull their teeth.”_
+
+“Why do you keep touching your throat?” demanded Tanub.
+
+“I’m nervous,” said Orne. “Guns always make me nervous.”
+
+The muzzle lowered slightly.
+
+“Shall we continue on to your city?” asked Orne. He wet his lips with
+his tongue. The cab light on Tanub’s face was giving the Gienahn an
+eerie sinister look.
+
+“We can go soon,” said Tanub.
+
+“Will you join me inside here?” asked Orne. “There’s a passenger seat
+right behind me.”
+
+Tanub’s eyes moved catlike: right, left. “Yes.” He turned, barked an
+order into the jungle gloom, then climbed in behind Orne.
+
+“When do we go?” asked Orne.
+
+“The great sun will be down soon,” said Tanub. “We can continue as soon
+as Chiranachuruso rises.”
+
+“Chiranachuruso?”
+
+“Our satellite ... our moon,” said Tanub.
+
+“It’s a beautiful word,” said Orne. “Chiranachuruso.”
+
+“In our tongue it means: The Limb of Victory,” said Tanub. “By its light
+we will continue.”
+
+Orne turned, looked back at Tanub. “Do you mean to tell me that you can
+see by what light gets down here through those trees?”
+
+“Can you not see?” asked Tanub.
+
+“Not without the headlights.”
+
+“Our eyes differ,” said Tanub. He bent toward Orne, peered. The vertical
+slit pupils of his eyes expanded, contracted. “You are the same as the
+... others.”
+
+“Oh, on the _Delphinus_?”
+
+Pause. “Yes.”
+
+Presently, a greater gloom came over the jungle, bringing a sudden
+stillness to the wild life. There was a chittering commotion from the
+natives in the trees around the sled. Tanub shifted behind Orne.
+
+“We may go now,” he said. “Slowly ... to stay behind my ... scouts.”
+
+“Right.” Orne eased the sled forward around an obstructing root.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silence while they crawled ahead. Around them shapes flung themselves
+from vine to vine.
+
+“I admired your city from the air,” said Orne. “It is very beautiful.”
+
+“Yes,” said Tanub. “Why did you land so far from it?”
+
+“We didn’t want to come down where we might destroy anything.”
+
+“There is nothing to destroy in the jungle,” said Tanub.
+
+“Why do you have such a big city?” asked Orne.
+
+Silence.
+
+“I said: Why do you—”
+
+“You are ignorant of our ways,” said Tanub. “Therefore, I forgive you.
+The city is for our race. We must breed and be born in sunlight.
+Once—long ago—we used crude platforms on the tops of the trees. Now
+... only the ... wild ones do this.”
+
+Stetson’s voice hissed in Orne’s ears: _“Easy on the sex line, boy.
+That’s always touchy. These creatures are oviparous. Sex glands are
+apparently hidden in that long fur behind where their chins ought to
+be.”_
+
+“Who controls the breeding sites controls our world,” said Tanub. “Once
+there was another city. We destroyed it.”
+
+“Are there many ... wild ones?” asked Orne.
+
+“Fewer each year,” said Tanub.
+
+_“There’s how they get their slaves,”_ hissed Stetson.
+
+“You speak excellent Galactese,” said Orne.
+
+“The High Path Chief commanded the best teacher,” said Tanub. “Do you,
+too, know many things, Orne?”
+
+“That’s why I was sent here,” said Orne.
+
+“Are there many planets to teach?” asked Tanub.
+
+“Very many,” said Orne. “Your city—I saw very tall buildings. Of what
+do you build them?”
+
+“In your tongue—glass,” said Tanub. “The engineers of the _Delphinus_
+said it was impossible. As you saw—they are wrong.”
+
+_“A glass-blowing culture,”_ hissed Stetson. _“That’d explain a lot of
+things.”_
+
+Slowly, the disguised sled crept through the jungle. Once, a scout
+swooped down into the headlights, waved. Orne stopped on Tanub’s order,
+and they waited almost ten minutes before proceeding.
+
+“Wild ones?” asked Orne.
+
+“Perhaps,” said Tanub.
+
+A glowing of many lights grew visible through the giant tree trunks. It
+grew brighter as the sled crept through the last of the jungle, emerged
+in cleared land at the edge of the city.
+
+Orne stared upward in awe. The city fluted and spiraled into the moonlit
+sky. It was a fragile appearing lacery of bridges, winking dots of
+light. The bridges wove back and forth from building to building until
+the entire visible network appeared one gigantic dew-glittering web.
+
+“All that with glass,” murmured Orne.
+
+_“What’s happening?”_ hissed Stetson.
+
+Orne touched his throat contact. _“We’re just into the city clearing,
+proceeding toward the nearest building.”_
+
+“This is far enough,” said Tanub.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orne stopped the sled. In the moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns all
+around. The buttressed pedestal of one of the buildings loomed directly
+ahead. It looked taller than had the scout cruiser in its jungle landing
+circle.
+
+Tanub leaned close to Orne’s shoulder. “We have not deceived you, have
+we, Orne?”
+
+“Huh? What do you mean?”
+
+“You have recognized that we are not mutated members of your race.”
+
+Orne swallowed. Into his ears came Stetson’s voice: _“Better admit it.”_
+
+“That’s true,” said Orne.
+
+“I like you, Orne,” said Tanub. “You shall be one of my slaves. You will
+teach me many things.”
+
+“How did you capture the _Delphinus_?” asked Orne.
+
+“You know that, too?”
+
+“You have one of their rifles,” said Orne.
+
+“Your race is no match for us, Orne ... in cunning, in strength, in the
+prowess of the mind. Your ship landed to repair its tubes. Very inferior
+ceramics in those tubes.”
+
+Orne turned, looked at Tanub in the dim glow of the cab light. “Have you
+heard about the I-A, Tanub?”
+
+“I-A? What is that?” There was a wary tenseness in the Gienahn’s figure.
+His mouth opened to reveal the long canines.
+
+“You took the _Delphinus_ by treachery?” asked Orne.
+
+“They were simple fools,” said Tanub. “We are smaller, thus they thought
+us weaker.” The Mark XX’s muzzle came around to center on Orne’s
+stomach. “You have not answered my question. What is the I-A?”
+
+“I am of the I-A,” said Orne. “Where’ve you hidden the _Delphinus_?”
+
+“In the place that suits us best,” said Tanub. “In all our history there
+has never been a better place.”
+
+“What do you plan to do with it?” asked Orne.
+
+“Within a year we will have a copy with our own improvements. After
+that—”
+
+“You intend to start a war?” asked Orne.
+
+“In the jungle the strong slay the weak until only the strong remain,”
+said Tanub.
+
+“And then the strong prey upon each other?” asked Orne.
+
+“That is a quibble for women,” said Tanub.
+
+“It’s too bad you feel that way,” said Orne. “When two cultures meet
+like this they tend to help each other. What have you done with the crew
+of the _Delphinus_?”
+
+“They are slaves,” said Tanub. “Those who still live. Some resisted.
+Others objected to teaching us what we want to know.” He waved the gun
+muzzle. “You will not be that foolish, will you, Orne?”
+
+“No need to be,” said Orne. “I’ve another little lesson to teach you: I
+already know where you’ve hidden the _Delphinus_.”
+
+_“Go, boy!”_ hissed Stetson. _“Where is it?”_
+
+“Impossible!” barked Tanub.
+
+“It’s on your moon,” said Orne. “Darkside. It’s on a mountain on the
+darkside of your moon.”
+
+Tanub’s eyes dilated, contracted. “You read minds?”
+
+“The I-A has no need to read minds,” said Orne. “We rely on superior
+mental prowess.”
+
+_“The marines are on their way,”_ hissed Stetson. _“We’re coming in to
+get you. I’m going to want to know how you guessed that one.”_
+
+“You are a weak fool like the others,” gritted Tanub.
+
+“It’s too bad you formed your opinion of us by observing only the low
+grades of the R&R,” said Orne.
+
+_“Easy, boy,”_ hissed Stetson. _“Don’t pick a fight with him now.
+Remember, his race is arboreal. He’s probably as strong as an ape.”_
+
+“I could kill you where you sit!” grated Tanub.
+
+“You write finish for your entire planet if you do,” said Orne. “I’m not
+alone. There are others listening to every word we say. There’s a ship
+overhead that could split open your planet with one bomb—wash it with
+molten rock. It’d run like the glass you use for your buildings.”
+
+“You are lying!”
+
+“We’ll make you an offer,” said Orne. “We don’t really want to
+exterminate you. We’ll give you limited membership in the Galactic
+Federation until you prove you’re no menace to us.”
+
+_“Keep talking,”_ hissed Stetson. _“Keep him interested.”_
+
+“You dare insult me!” growled Tanub.
+
+“You had better believe me,” said Orne. “We—”
+
+Stetson’s voice interrupted him: _“Got it, Orne! They caught the_
+Delphinus _on the ground right where you said it’d be! Blew the tubes
+off it. Marines now mopping up.”_
+
+“It’s like this,” said Orne. “We already have recaptured the
+_Delphinus_.” Tanub’s eyes went instinctively skyward. “Except for the
+captured armament you still hold, you obviously don’t have the weapons
+to meet us,” continued Orne. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be carrying that
+rifle off the _Delphinus_.”
+
+“If you speak the truth, then we shall die bravely,” said Tanub.
+
+“No need for you to die,” said Orne.
+
+“Better to die than be slaves,” said Tanub.
+
+“We don’t need slaves,” said Orne. “We—”
+
+“I cannot take the chance that you are lying,” said Tanub. “I must kill
+you now.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orne’s foot rested on the air sled control pedal. He depressed it.
+Instantly, the sled shot skyward, heavy G’s pressing them down into the
+seats. The gun in Tanub’s hands was slammed into his lap. He struggled
+to raise it. To Orne, the weight was still only about twice that of his
+home planet of Chargon. He reached over, took the rifle, found safety
+belts, bound Tanub with them. Then he eased off the acceleration.
+
+“We don’t need slaves,” said Orne. “We have machines to do our work.
+We’ll send experts in here, teach you people how to exploit your planet,
+how to build good transportation facilities, show you how to mine your
+minerals, how to—”
+
+“And what do we do in return?” whispered Tanub.
+
+“You could start by teaching us how you make superior glass,” said Orne.
+“I certainly hope you see things our way. We really don’t want to have
+to come down there and clean you out. It’d be a shame to have to blast
+that city into little pieces.”
+
+Tanub wilted. Presently, he said: “Send me back. I will discuss this
+with ... our council.” He stared at Orne. “You I-A’s are too strong. We
+did not know.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the wardroom of Stetson’s scout cruiser, the lights were low, the
+leather chairs comfortable, the green beige table set with a decanter of
+Hochar brandy and two glasses.
+
+Orne lifted his glass, sipped the liquor, smacked his lips. “For a while
+there, I thought I’d never be tasting anything like this again.”
+
+Stetson took his own glass. “ComGO heard the whole thing over the
+general monitor net,” he said. “D’you know you’ve been breveted to
+senior field man?”
+
+“Ah, they’ve already recognized my sterling worth,” said Orne.
+
+The wolfish grin took over Stetson’s big features. “Senior field men
+last about half as long as the juniors,” he said. “Mortality’s
+terrific?”
+
+“I might’ve known,” said Orne. He took another sip of the brandy.
+
+Stetson flicked on the switch of a recorder beside him. “O.K. You can go
+ahead any time.”
+
+“Where do you want me to start?”
+
+“First, how’d you spot right away where they’d hidden the _Delphinus_?”
+
+“Easy. Tanub’s word for his people was _Grazzi_. Most races call
+themselves something meaning _The People_. But in his tongue that’s
+_Ocheero_. _Grazzi_ wasn’t on the translated list. I started working on
+it. The most likely answer was that it had been adopted from another
+language, and meant _enemy_.”
+
+“And _that_ told you where the _Delphinus_ was?”
+
+“No. But it fitted my hunch about these Gienahns. I’d kind of felt from
+the first minute of meeting them that they had a culture like the
+Indians of ancient Terra.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“They came in like a primitive raiding party. The leader dropped right
+onto the hood of my sled. An act of bravery, no less. Counting coup, you
+see?”
+
+“I guess so.”
+
+“Then he said he was High Path Chief. That wasn’t on the language list,
+either. But it was easy: _Raider Chief._ There’s a word in almost every
+language in history that means raider and derives from a word for road,
+path or highway.”
+
+“Highwaymen,” said Stetson.
+
+“Raid itself,” said Orne. “An ancient Terran language corruption of
+road.”
+
+“Yeah, yeah. But where’d all this translation griff put—”
+
+“Don’t be impatient. Glass-blowing culture meant they were just out of
+the primitive stage. That, we could control. Next, he said their moon
+was _Chiranachuruso_, translated as _The Limb of Victory_. After that it
+just fell into place.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“The vertical-slit pupils of their eyes. Doesn’t that mean anything to
+you?”
+
+“Maybe. What’s it mean to you?”
+
+“Night-hunting predator accustomed to dropping upon its victims from
+above. No other type of creature ever has had the vertical slit. And
+Tanub said himself that the _Delphinus_ was hidden in the best place in
+all of their history. History? That’d be a high place. Dark, likewise.
+Ergo: a high place on the darkside of their moon.”
+
+“I’m a pie-eyed greepus,” whispered Stetson.
+
+Orne grinned, said: “You probably are ... sir.”
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Notes: The table below lists all corrections applied to
+the original text.
+
+p. 102: [normalized] ComGo -> ComGO
+p. 103: net of snakers -> sneakers
+p. 105: [removed extra quote] “Orne swallowed
+p. 111: [added closing quote] “A glass-blowing culture,”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Missing Link
+
+Author: Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23210]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISSING LINK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Markus Brenner and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<p class="tr"><strong>Transcriber&#8217;s Note:</strong> This etext was produced from Astounding Science
+Fiction, Volume LXII No.&nbsp;6, February 1959. Extensive research did not
+uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+<div style="position: relative; width: 500px; height: 476px; margin-bottom: 2em;">
+<div style="position: absolute; width: 164px; height: 476px;">
+<a href="images/illu1.jpg">
+<img src="images/illu1_th.jpg" alt="" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h1 style="position: absolute; top: 100px; left: 200px; width: 300px;">MISSING LINK</h1>
+
+<p style="position: absolute; top: 150px; left: 200px; width: 300px;" class="author">BY FRANK
+HERBERT</p>
+
+<p style="position: absolute; top: 250px; left: 200px; width: 300px; text-indent: 0em;"><i><span style="font-size: 120%">The Romantics</span> used to say
+that the eyes were the windows
+of the Soul. A good Alien Xenologist
+might not put it quite
+so poetically ... but he can, if
+he&#8217;s sharp, read a lot in the
+look of an eye!</i></p>
+
+<p style="position: absolute; top: 425px; left: 200px; width: 300px; text-align: right" class="illustrator">Illustrated by van Dongen</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="initial" style="clear: both">
+<img src="images/initial.jpg" alt="W" /></div>
+<p class="dropcapsection"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><span class="firstwords"><span style="display: none;">&#8220;W</span>e ought</span> to scrape
+this planet clean of
+every living thing on
+it,&#8221; muttered Umbo
+Stetson, section chief
+of Investigation &amp; Adjustment.</p>
+
+<p>Stetson paced the landing control
+bridge of his scout cruiser. His footsteps
+grated on a floor that was the
+rear wall of the bridge during flight.
+But now the ship rested on its tail
+fins&mdash;all four hundred glistening red
+and black meters of it. The open
+ports of the bridge looked out on
+the jungle roof of Gienah III some
+one hundred fifty meters below. A
+butter yellow sun hung above the
+horizon, perhaps an hour from setting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Clean as an egg!&#8221; he barked. He
+paused in his round of the bridge,
+glared out the starboard port, spat
+into the fire-blackened circle that the
+cruiser&#8217;s jets had burned from the
+jungle.</p>
+
+<p>The I-A section chief was dark-haired,
+gangling, with large head
+and big features. He stood in his
+customary slouch, a stance not improved
+by sacklike patched blue fatigues.
+Although on this present operation
+he rated the flag of a division
+admiral, his fatigues carried no
+insignia. There was a general unkempt,
+straggling look about him.</p>
+
+<p>Lewis Orne, junior I-A field man
+with a maiden diploma, stood at the
+opposite port, studying the jungle
+horizon. Now and then he glanced
+at the bridge control console, the
+chronometer above it, the big translite
+map of their position tilted from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+the opposite bulkhead. A heavy
+planet native, he felt vaguely uneasy
+on this Gienah III with its gravity
+of only seven-eighths Terran Standard.
+The surgical scars on his neck
+where the micro-communications
+equipment had been inserted itched
+maddeningly. He scratched.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hah!&#8221; said Stetson. &#8220;Politicians!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A thin black insect with shell-like
+wings flew in Orne&#8217;s port, settled
+in his close-cropped red hair.
+Orne pulled the insect gently from
+his hair, released it. Again it tried
+to land in his hair. He ducked. It
+flew across the bridge, out the port
+beside Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>There was a thick-muscled, no-fat
+look to Orne, but something about
+his blocky, off-center features suggested
+a clown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m getting tired of waiting,&#8221; he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>You&#8217;re</i> tired! Hah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A breeze rippled the tops of the
+green ocean below them. Here and
+there, red and purple flowers jutted
+from the verdure, bending and nodding
+like an attentive audience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just look at that blasted jungle!&#8221;
+barked Stetson. &#8220;Them and their
+stupid orders!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A call bell tinkled on the bridge
+control console. The red light above
+the speaker grid began blinking.
+Stetson shot an angry glance at it.
+&#8220;Yeah, Hal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O.K., Stet. Orders just came
+through. We use Plan C. ComGO
+says to brief the field man, and jet
+out of here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you ask them about using
+another field man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne looked up attentively.</p>
+
+<p>The speaker said: &#8220;Yes. They said
+we have to use Orne because of the
+records on the <i>Delphinus</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well then, will they give us
+more time to brief him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Negative. It&#8217;s crash priority.
+ComGO expects to blast the planet
+anyway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson glared at the grid. &#8220;Those
+fat-headed, lard-bottomed, pig-brained
+... POLITICIANS!&#8221; He
+took two deep breaths, subsided.
+&#8220;O.K. Tell them we&#8217;ll comply.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One more thing, Stet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a confirmed contact.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Instantly, Stetson was poised on
+the balls of his feet, alert. &#8220;Where?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About ten kilometers out. Section
+AAB-6.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How many?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A mob. You want I should count
+them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. What&#8217;re they doing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Making a beeline for us. You
+better get a move on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O.K. Keep us posted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Stetson looked across at his junior
+field man. &#8220;Orne, if you decide you
+want out of this assignment, you just
+say the word. I&#8217;ll back you to the
+hilt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should I want out of my
+first field assignment?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, and find out.&#8221; Stetson
+crossed to a tilt-locker behind the
+big translite map, hauled out a white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+coverall uniform with gold insignia,
+tossed it to Orne. &#8220;Get into these
+while I brief you on the map.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But this is an R&amp;R uni&mdash;&#8221; began
+Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Get that uniform on your ugly
+frame!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir.
+Right away, sir. But I thought I was
+through with old Rediscovery &amp; Reeducation
+when you drafted me off
+of Hamal into the I-A ... sir.&#8221; He
+began changing from the I-A blue
+to the R&amp;R white. Almost as an
+afterthought, he said: &#8220;...&nbsp;Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A wolfish grin cracked Stetson&#8217;s
+big features. &#8220;I&#8217;m soooooo happy
+you have the proper attitude of subservience
+toward authority.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne zipped up the coverall uniform.
+&#8220;Oh, yes, sir ... sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O.K., Orne, pay attention.&#8221; Stetson
+gestured at the map with its
+green superimposed grid squares.
+&#8220;Here we are. Here&#8217;s that city we
+flew over on our way down. You&#8217;ll
+head for it as soon as we drop you.
+The place is big enough that if you
+hold a course roughly northeast you
+can&#8217;t miss it. We&#8217;re&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the call bell rang.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it this time, Hal?&#8221;
+barked Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve changed to Plan H, Stet.
+New orders cut.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Five days?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all they can give us.
+ComGO says he can&#8217;t keep the information
+out of High Commissioner
+Bullone&#8217;s hands any longer than
+that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s five days for sure then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is this the usual R&amp;R foul-up?&#8221;
+asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>Stetson nodded. &#8220;Thanks to Bullone
+and company! We&#8217;re just one
+jump ahead of catastrophe, but they
+still pump the bushwah into the Rah
+&amp; Rah boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re making light of my revered
+alma mater,&#8221; said Orne. He
+struck a pose. &#8220;We must reunite the
+lost planets with our centers of culture
+and industry, and take up the
+<i>glor</i>-ious onward march of mankind
+that was so <i>bru</i>-tally&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can it!&#8221; snapped Stetson. &#8220;We
+both know we&#8217;re going to rediscover
+one planet too many some day. Rim
+War all over again. But this is a
+different breed of fish. It&#8217;s not, repeat,
+<i>not</i> a <i>re</i>-discovery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne sobered. &#8220;Alien?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. A-L-I-E-N! A never-before-contacted
+culture. That language you
+were force fed on the way over,
+that&#8217;s an alien language. It&#8217;s not
+complete ... all we have off the
+<i>minis</i>. And we excluded data on the
+natives because we&#8217;ve been hoping to
+dump this project and nobody the
+wiser.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Holy mazoo!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-six days ago an I-A
+search ship came through here, had
+a routine mini-sneaker look at the
+place. When he combed in his net
+of sneakers to check the tapes and
+films, lo and behold, he had a little
+stranger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of <i>theirs</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. It was a <i>mini</i> off the <i>Delphinus
+Rediscovery</i>. The <i>Delphinus</i> has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+been unreported for eighteen standard
+months!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did it crack up here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t know. If it did, we
+haven&#8217;t been able to spot it. She
+was supposed to be way off in the
+Balandine System by now. But we&#8217;ve
+something else on our minds. It&#8217;s
+the one item that makes me want to
+blot out this place, and run home
+with my tail between my legs.
+We&#8217;ve a&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the call bell chimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;NOW WHAT?&#8221; roared Stetson
+into the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a <i>mini</i> over that mob,
+Stet. They&#8217;re talking about us. It&#8217;s a
+definite raiding party.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What armament?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Too gloomy in that jungle to be
+sure. The infra beam&#8217;s out on this
+<i>mini</i>. Looks like hard pellet rifles
+of some kind. Might even be off the
+<i>Delphinus</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you get closer?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t do any good. No light
+down there, and they&#8217;re moving up
+fast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep an eye on them, but don&#8217;t
+ignore the other sectors,&#8221; said Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think I was born yesterday?&#8221;
+barked the voice from the
+grid. The contact broke off with an
+angry sound.</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">&#8220;One thing I like about the I-A,&#8221;
+said Stetson. &#8220;It collects such even-tempered
+types.&#8221; He looked at the
+white uniform on Orne, wiped a
+hand across his mouth as though he&#8217;d
+tasted something dirty.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why <i>am</i> I wearing this thing?&#8221;
+asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Disguise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s no mustache!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson smiled without humor.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s one of I-A&#8217;s answers to those
+fat-keistered politicians. We&#8217;re setting
+up our own search system to
+find the planets before <i>they</i> do.
+We&#8217;ve managed to put spies in key
+places at R&amp;R. Any touchy planets
+our spies report, we divert the files.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then we look into them with
+bright boys like you&mdash;disguised as
+R&amp;R field men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Goody, goody. And what happens
+if R&amp;R stumbles onto me
+while I&#8217;m down there playing patty
+cake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We disown you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you said an I-A ship found
+this joint.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It did. And then one of our spies
+in R&amp;R intercepted a <i>routine</i> request
+for an agent-instructor to be assigned
+here with full equipment. Request
+signed by a First-Contact officer
+name of Diston ... of the <i>Delphinus</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the Del&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yeah. Missing. The request was
+a forgery. Now you see why I&#8217;m
+mostly for rubbing out this place.
+Who&#8217;d dare forge such a thing unless
+he knew for sure that the original
+FC officer was missing ... or
+dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What the jumped up mazoo are
+we doing here, Stet?&#8221; asked Orne.
+&#8220;Alien calls for a full contact team
+with all of the&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;It calls for one planet-buster
+bomb ... buster&mdash;in five days. Unless
+you give them a white bill in
+the meantime. High Commissioner
+Bullone will have word of this
+planet by then. If Gienah III still
+exists in five days, can&#8217;t you imagine
+the fun the politicians&#8217;ll have with
+it? Mama mia! We want this planet
+cleared for contact or dead before
+then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like this, Stet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;YOU don&#8217;t like it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;There must
+be another way. Why ... when we
+teamed up with the Alerinoids we
+gained five hundred years in the
+physical sciences alone, not to mention
+the&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Alerinoids didn&#8217;t knock
+over one of our survey ships first.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What if the <i>Delphinus</i> just
+crashed here ... and the locals picked
+up the pieces?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what you&#8217;re going in to
+find out, Orne. But answer me this:
+If they <i>do</i> have the <i>Delphinus</i>, how
+long before a tool-using race could
+be a threat to the galaxy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw that city they built, Stet.
+They could be dug in within six
+months, and there&#8217;d be no&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yeah.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne shook his head. &#8220;But think
+of it: Two civilizations that matured
+along different lines! Think of all
+the different ways we&#8217;d approach the
+same problems ... the lever that&#8217;d
+give us for&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You sound like a Uni-Galacta
+lecture! Are you through marching
+arm in arm into the misty future?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne took a deep breath. &#8220;Why&#8217;s
+a freshman like me being tossed into
+this dish?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d still be on the <i>Delphinus</i>
+master lists as an R&amp;R field man.
+That&#8217;s important if you&#8217;re masquerading.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I the only one? I know I&#8217;m
+a recent <i>convert</i>, but&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You want out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say that. I just want to
+know why I&#8217;m&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because the bigdomes fed a set
+of requirements into one of their
+iron monsters. Your card popped out.
+They were looking for somebody
+capable, dependable ... and ...
+<i>expendable</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hey!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m down here briefing
+you instead of sitting back on a
+flagship. <i>I</i> got you into the I-A.
+Now, you listen carefully: If you
+push the panic button on this one
+without cause, I will personally flay
+you alive. We both know the advantages
+of an alien contact. But if you
+get into a hot spot, and call for help,
+I&#8217;ll dive this cruiser into that city to
+get you out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne swallowed. &#8220;Thanks, Stet.
+I&#8217;m&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">&#8220;We&#8217;re going to take up a tight
+orbit. Out beyond us will be five
+transports full of I-A marines and a
+Class IX Monitor with one planet-buster.
+You&#8217;re calling the shots, God
+help you! First, we want to know if
+they have the <i>Delphinus</i> ... and if
+so, where it is. Next, we want to
+know just how warlike these goons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+are. Can we control them if they&#8217;re
+bloodthirsty. What&#8217;s their potential?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In five days?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a second more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do we know about them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not much. They look something
+like an ancient Terran chimpanzee
+... only with blue fur. Face is hairless,
+pink-skinned.&#8221; Stetson snapped
+a switch. The translite map became
+a screen with a figure frozen on it.
+&#8220;Like that. This is life size.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looks like the missing link
+they&#8217;re always hunting for,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;Yeah, but you&#8217;ve got a different
+kind of a missing link.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vertical-slit pupils in their eyes,&#8221;
+said Orne. He studied the figure. It
+had been caught from the front by
+a mini-sneaker camera. About five
+feet tall. The stance was slightly
+bent forward, long arms. Two vertical
+nose slits. A flat, lipless mouth.
+Receding chin. Four-fingered hands.
+It wore a wide belt from which dangled
+neat pouches and what looked
+like tools, although their use was
+obscure. There appeared to be the
+tip of a tail protruding from behind
+one of the squat legs. Behind the
+creature towered the faery spires of
+the city they&#8217;d observed from the air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tails?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yeah. They&#8217;re arboreal. Not a
+road on the whole planet that we
+can find. But there are lots of vine
+lanes through the jungles.&#8221; Stetson&#8217;s
+face hardened. &#8220;Match <i>that</i> with a
+city as advanced as that one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slave culture?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Probably.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How many cities have they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve found two. This one and
+another on the other side of the
+planet. But the other one&#8217;s a
+ruin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A ruin? Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You tell us. Lots of mysteries
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the planet like?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mostly jungle. There are polar
+oceans, lakes and rivers. One low
+mountain chain follows the equatorial
+belt about two thirds around the
+planet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But only two cities. Are you
+sure?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reasonably so. It&#8217;d be pretty hard
+to miss something the size of that
+thing we flew over. It must be fifty
+kilometers long and at least ten wide.
+Swarming with these creatures, too.
+We&#8217;ve got a zone-count estimate that
+places the city&#8217;s population at over
+thirty million.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t know much about this
+place, Orne. And unless you bring
+them into the fold, there&#8217;ll be nothing
+but ashes for our archaeologists
+to pick over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems a dirty shame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I agree, but&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The call bell jangled.</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Stetson&#8217;s voice sounded tired:
+&#8220;Yeah, Hal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That mob&#8217;s only about five kilometers
+out, Stet. We&#8217;ve got Orne&#8217;s
+gear outside in the disguised air
+sled.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be right down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Why a disguised sled?&#8221; asked
+Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If they think it&#8217;s a ground buggy,
+they might get careless when you
+most need an advantage. We could
+always scoop you out of the air, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;re my chances on this one,
+Stet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson shrugged. &#8220;I&#8217;m afraid
+they&#8217;re slim. These goons probably
+have the <i>Delphinus</i>, and they want
+you just long enough to get your
+equipment and everything you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rough as that, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;According to our best guess. If
+you&#8217;re not out in five days, we blast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Want out?&#8221; asked Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Use the <i>back-door</i> rule, son. Always
+leave yourself a way out. Now
+... let&#8217;s check that equipment the
+surgeons put in your neck.&#8221; Stetson
+put a hand to his throat. His mouth
+remained closed, but there was a
+surf-hissing voice in Orne&#8217;s ears:
+&#8220;You read me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure. I can&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; hissed the voice. &#8220;Touch
+the mike contact. Keep your mouth
+closed. Just use your speaking muscles
+without speaking.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O.K.,&#8221; said Stetson. &#8220;You come
+in loud and clear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ought to. I&#8217;m right on top of
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;ll be a relay ship over you
+all the time,&#8221; said Stetson. &#8220;Now ...
+when you&#8217;re not touching that mike
+contact this rig&#8217;ll still feed us what
+you say ... and everything that goes
+on around you, too. We&#8217;ll monitor
+everything. Got that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson held out his right hand.
+&#8220;Good luck. I meant that about diving
+in for you. Just say the word.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know the word, too,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;HELP!&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles
+between monstrous bluish tree
+trunks&mdash;that was the jungle. Only
+the barest weak glimmering of sunlight
+penetrated to the mud. The
+disguised sled&mdash;its para-grav units
+turned off&mdash;lurched and skidded
+around buttress roots. Its headlights
+swung in wild arcs across the trunks
+and down to the mud. Aerial creepers&mdash;great
+looping vines of them&mdash;swung
+down from the towering
+forest ceiling. A steady drip of condensation
+spattered the windshield,
+forcing Orne to use the wipers.</p>
+
+<p>In the bucket seat of the sled&#8217;s
+cab, Orne fought the controls. He
+was plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating
+sensation that a
+heavy planet native always feels in
+lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy
+stomach.</p>
+
+<p>Things skipped through the air
+around the lurching vehicle: flitting
+and darting things. Insects came in
+twin cones, siphoned toward the
+headlights. There was an endless
+chittering whistling tok-tok-toking
+in the gloom beyond the lights.</p>
+
+<p>Stetson&#8217;s voice hissed suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+through the surgically implanted
+speaker: &#8220;How&#8217;s it look?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alien.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any sign of that mob?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Negative.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O.K. We&#8217;re taking off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Behind Orne, there came a deep
+rumbling roar that receded as the
+scout cruiser climbed its jets. All
+other sounds hung suspended in
+after-silence, then resumed: the
+strongest first and then the weakest.</p>
+
+<p>A heavy object suddenly arced
+through the headlights, swinging on
+a vine. It disappeared behind a tree.
+Another. Another. Ghostly shadows
+with vine pendulums on both sides.
+Something banged down heavily
+onto the hood of the sled.</p>
+
+<div style="width:525px; margin:auto;">
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 174px;">
+<p><a href="images/illu2.jpg"><img src="images/illu2_th.jpg"
+alt="" title="" /></a></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 338px;">
+<p><a href="images/illu3.jpg"><img src="images/illu3_th.jpg"
+alt="" title="" /></a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Orne braked to a creaking stop
+that shifted the load behind him,
+found himself staring through the
+windshield at a native of Gienah III.
+The native crouched on the hood, a
+Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in
+his right hand directed at Orne&#8217;s
+head. In the abrupt shock of meeting,
+Orne recognized the weapon:
+standard issue to the marine guards
+on all R&amp;R survey ships.</p>
+
+<p>The native appeared the twin of
+the one Orne had seen on the translite
+screen. The four-fingered hand
+looked extremely capable around the
+stock of the Mark XX.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, Orne put a hand to his
+throat, pressed the contact button.
+He moved his speaking muscles:
+<i>&#8220;Just made contact with the mob.
+One on the hood now has one of
+our Mark XX rifles aimed at my
+head.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>The surf-hissing of Stetson&#8217;s voice
+came through the hidden speaker:
+<i>&#8220;Want us to come back?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Negative. Stand by. He looks
+cautious rather than hostile.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Orne held up his right hand, palm
+out. He had a second thought: held
+up his left hand, too. Universal
+symbol of peaceful intentions: empty
+hands. The gun muzzle lowered
+slightly. Orne called into his mind
+the language that had been hypnoforced
+into him. <i>Ocheero? No. That
+means &#8216;The People.&#8217; Ah&nbsp;...</i> And he
+had the heavy fricative greeting
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ffroiragrazzi,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The native shifted to the left, answered
+in pure, unaccented High
+Galactese: &#8220;Who are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p><p>Orne fought down a sudden panic.
+The lipless mouth had looked so odd
+forming the familiar words.</p>
+
+<p>Stetson&#8217;s voice hissed: <i>&#8220;Is that the
+native speaking Galactese?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Orne touched his throat. <i>&#8220;You
+heard him.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>He dropped his hand, said: &#8220;I am
+Lewis Orne of Rediscovery and Reeducation.
+I was sent here at the
+request of the First-Contact officer
+on the <i>Delphinus Rediscovery</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is your ship?&#8221; demanded
+the Gienahn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It put me down and left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was behind schedule for another
+appointment.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Out of the corners of his eyes,
+Orne saw more shadows dropping to
+the mud around him. The sled shifted
+as someone climbed onto the load
+behind the cab. The someone scuttled
+agilely for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>The native climbed down to the
+cab&#8217;s side step, opened the door. The
+rifle was held at the ready. Again,
+the lipless mouth formed Galactese
+words: &#8220;What do you carry in this
+... vehicle?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The equipment every R&amp;R field
+man uses to help the people of a
+rediscovered planet improve themselves.&#8221;
+Orne nodded at the rifle.
+&#8220;Would you mind pointing that
+weapon some other direction? It
+makes me nervous.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly
+on Orne&#8217;s middle. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+native&#8217;s mouth opened, revealing
+long canines. &#8220;Do we not look
+strange to you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I take it there&#8217;s been a heavy
+mutational variation in the humanoid
+norm on this planet,&#8221; said Orne.
+&#8220;What is it? Hard radiation?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t really make any difference,
+of course,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+here to help you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am Tanub, High Path Chief of
+the Grazzi,&#8221; said the native. &#8220;I decide
+who is to help.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne swallowed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where do you go?&#8221; demanded
+Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was hoping to go to your city.
+Is it permitted?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A long pause while the vertical-slit
+pupils of Tanub&#8217;s eyes expanded
+and contracted. &#8220;It is permitted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson&#8217;s voice came through the
+hidden speaker: <i>&#8220;All bets off. We&#8217;re
+coming in after you. That Mark XX
+is the final straw. It means they have
+the</i> Delphinus <i>for sure!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Orne touched his throat. <i>&#8220;No!
+Give me a little more time!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;I have a hunch about these creatures.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;No time now. Trust me.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Another long pause in which
+Orne and Tanub continued to study
+each other. Presently, Stetson said:
+<i>&#8220;O.K. Go ahead as planned. But find
+out where the</i> Delphinus <i>is! If we
+get that back we pull their teeth.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you keep touching your
+throat?&#8221; demanded Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m nervous,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;Guns
+always make me nervous.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The muzzle lowered slightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shall we continue on to your
+city?&#8221; asked Orne. He wet his lips
+with his tongue. The cab light on
+Tanub&#8217;s face was giving the Gienahn
+an eerie sinister look.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can go soon,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you join me inside here?&#8221;
+asked Orne. &#8220;There&#8217;s a passenger
+seat right behind me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tanub&#8217;s eyes moved catlike: right,
+left. &#8220;Yes.&#8221; He turned, barked an
+order into the jungle gloom, then
+climbed in behind Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When do we go?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The great sun will be down
+soon,&#8221; said Tanub. &#8220;We can continue
+as soon as Chiranachuruso
+rises.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Chiranachuruso?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our satellite ... our moon,&#8221; said
+Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a beautiful word,&#8221; said Orne.
+&#8220;Chiranachuruso.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In our tongue it means: The
+Limb of Victory,&#8221; said Tanub. &#8220;By
+its light we will continue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne turned, looked back at Tanub.
+&#8220;Do you mean to tell me that
+you can see by what light gets down
+here through those trees?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you not see?&#8221; asked Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not without the headlights.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our eyes differ,&#8221; said Tanub. He
+bent toward Orne, peered. The vertical
+slit pupils of his eyes expanded,
+contracted. &#8220;You are the same as the
+... others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, on the <i>Delphinus</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pause. &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p><p>Presently, a greater gloom came
+over the jungle, bringing a sudden
+stillness to the wild life. There was
+a chittering commotion from the
+natives in the trees around the sled.
+Tanub shifted behind Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We may go now,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;Slowly ... to stay behind my ...
+scouts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right.&#8221; Orne eased the sled
+forward around an obstructing
+root.</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Silence while they crawled ahead.
+Around them shapes flung themselves
+from vine to vine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I admired your city from the
+air,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;It is very beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Tanub. &#8220;Why did you
+land so far from it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We didn&#8217;t want to come down
+where we might destroy anything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is nothing to destroy in
+the jungle,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you have such a big
+city?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>Silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I said: Why do you&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are ignorant of our ways,&#8221;
+said Tanub. &#8220;Therefore, I forgive
+you. The city is for our race. We
+must breed and be born in sunlight.
+Once&mdash;long ago&mdash;we used crude
+platforms on the tops of the trees.
+Now ... only the ... wild ones
+do this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson&#8217;s voice hissed in Orne&#8217;s
+ears: <i>&#8220;Easy on the sex line, boy.
+That&#8217;s always touchy. These creatures
+are oviparous. Sex glands are
+apparently hidden in that long fur
+behind where their chins ought to
+be.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who controls the breeding sites
+controls our world,&#8221; said Tanub.
+&#8220;Once there was another city. We
+destroyed it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are there many ... wild ones?&#8221;
+asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fewer each year,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;There&#8217;s how they get their
+slaves,&#8221;</i> hissed Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak excellent Galactese,&#8221;
+said Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The High Path Chief commanded
+the best teacher,&#8221; said Tanub.
+&#8220;Do you, too, know many things,
+Orne?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s why I was sent here,&#8221;
+said Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are there many planets to
+teach?&#8221; asked Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very many,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;Your
+city&mdash;I saw very tall buildings. Of
+what do you build them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In your tongue&mdash;glass,&#8221; said
+Tanub. &#8220;The engineers of the <i>Delphinus</i>
+said it was impossible. As
+you saw&mdash;they are wrong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;A glass-blowing culture,&#8221;</i> hissed
+Stetson. <i>&#8220;That&#8217;d explain a lot of
+things.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Slowly, the disguised sled crept
+through the jungle. Once, a scout
+swooped down into the headlights,
+waved. Orne stopped on Tanub&#8217;s order,
+and they waited almost ten minutes
+before proceeding.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wild ones?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>A glowing of many lights grew
+visible through the giant tree trunks.
+It grew brighter as the sled crept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+through the last of the jungle,
+emerged in cleared land at the edge
+of the city.</p>
+
+<p>Orne stared upward in awe. The
+city fluted and spiraled into the
+moonlit sky. It was a fragile appearing
+lacery of bridges, winking dots
+of light. The bridges wove back and
+forth from building to building until
+the entire visible network appeared
+one gigantic dew-glittering web.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All that with glass,&#8221; murmured
+Orne.</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;What&#8217;s happening?&#8221;</i> hissed Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>Orne touched his throat contact.
+<i>&#8220;We&#8217;re just into the city clearing,
+proceeding toward the nearest building.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is far enough,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Orne stopped the sled. In the
+moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns
+all around. The buttressed
+pedestal of one of the buildings
+loomed directly ahead. It looked taller
+than had the scout cruiser in its
+jungle landing circle.</p>
+
+<p>Tanub leaned close to Orne&#8217;s
+shoulder. &#8220;We have not deceived
+you, have we, Orne?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh? What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have recognized that we are
+not mutated members of your
+race.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne swallowed. Into his ears
+came Stetson&#8217;s voice: <i>&#8220;Better admit
+it.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s true,&#8221; said Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I like you, Orne,&#8221; said Tanub.
+&#8220;You shall be one of my slaves. You
+will teach me many things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did you capture the <i>Delphinus</i>?&#8221;
+asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know that, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have one of their rifles,&#8221;
+said Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your race is no match for us,
+Orne ... in cunning, in strength, in
+the prowess of the mind. Your ship
+landed to repair its tubes. Very inferior
+ceramics in those tubes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orne turned, looked at Tanub in
+the dim glow of the cab light. &#8220;Have
+you heard about the I-A, Tanub?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I-A? What is that?&#8221; There was a
+wary tenseness in the Gienahn&#8217;s figure.
+His mouth opened to reveal the
+long canines.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You took the <i>Delphinus</i> by
+treachery?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They were simple fools,&#8221; said
+Tanub. &#8220;We are smaller, thus they
+thought us weaker.&#8221; The Mark XX&#8217;s
+muzzle came around to center on
+Orne&#8217;s stomach. &#8220;You have not answered
+my question. What is the
+I-A?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am of the I-A,&#8221; said Orne.
+&#8220;Where&#8217;ve you hidden the <i>Delphinus</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the place that suits us best,&#8221;
+said Tanub. &#8220;In all our history there
+has never been a better place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you plan to do with
+it?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Within a year we will have a
+copy with our own improvements.
+After that&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You intend to start a war?&#8221; asked
+Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the jungle the strong slay the
+weak until only the strong remain,&#8221;
+said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And then the strong prey upon
+each other?&#8221; asked Orne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is a quibble for women,&#8221;
+said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too bad you feel that way,&#8221;
+said Orne. &#8220;When two cultures meet
+like this they tend to help each
+other. What have you done with the
+crew of the <i>Delphinus</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are slaves,&#8221; said Tanub.
+&#8220;Those who still live. Some resisted.
+Others objected to teaching us what
+we want to know.&#8221; He waved the
+gun muzzle. &#8220;You will not be that
+foolish, will you, Orne?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No need to be,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+another little lesson to teach you: I
+already know where you&#8217;ve hidden
+the <i>Delphinus</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Go, boy!&#8221;</i> hissed Stetson.
+<i>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible!&#8221; barked Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s on your moon,&#8221; said Orne.
+&#8220;Darkside. It&#8217;s on a mountain on the
+darkside of your moon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tanub&#8217;s eyes dilated, contracted.
+&#8220;You read minds?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The I-A has no need to read
+minds,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;We rely on superior
+mental prowess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;The marines are on their way,&#8221;</i>
+hissed Stetson. <i>&#8220;We&#8217;re coming in to
+get you. I&#8217;m going to want to know
+how you guessed that one.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a weak fool like the
+others,&#8221; gritted Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too bad you formed your
+opinion of us by observing only the
+low grades of the R&amp;R,&#8221; said Orne.</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Easy, boy,&#8221;</i> hissed Stetson.
+<i>&#8220;Don&#8217;t pick a fight with him now.
+Remember, his race is arboreal. He&#8217;s
+probably as strong as an ape.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could kill you where you sit!&#8221;
+grated Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You write finish for your entire
+planet if you do,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+not alone. There are others listening
+to every word we say. There&#8217;s a ship
+overhead that could split open your
+planet with one bomb&mdash;wash it with
+molten rock. It&#8217;d run like the glass
+you use for your buildings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are lying!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll make you an offer,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;We don&#8217;t really want to exterminate
+you. We&#8217;ll give you limited
+membership in the Galactic Federation
+until you prove you&#8217;re no menace
+to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Keep talking,&#8221;</i> hissed Stetson.
+<i>&#8220;Keep him interested.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You dare insult me!&#8221; growled
+Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had better believe me,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;We&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson&#8217;s voice interrupted him:
+<i>&#8220;Got it, Orne! They caught the</i>
+Delphinus <i>on the ground right where
+you said it&#8217;d be! Blew the tubes off
+it. Marines now mopping up.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s like this,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;We
+already have recaptured the <i>Delphinus</i>.&#8221;
+Tanub&#8217;s eyes went instinctively
+skyward. &#8220;Except for the captured
+armament you still hold, you obviously
+don&#8217;t have the weapons to
+meet us,&#8221; continued Orne. &#8220;Otherwise,
+you wouldn&#8217;t be carrying that
+rifle off the <i>Delphinus</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you speak the truth, then we
+shall die bravely,&#8221; said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No need for you to die,&#8221; said
+Orne.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Better to die than be slaves,&#8221;
+said Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t need slaves,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;We&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot take the chance that you
+are lying,&#8221; said Tanub. &#8220;I must kill
+you now.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">Orne&#8217;s foot rested on the air sled
+control pedal. He depressed it. Instantly,
+the sled shot skyward, heavy
+G&#8217;s pressing them down into the
+seats. The gun in Tanub&#8217;s hands was
+slammed into his lap. He struggled
+to raise it. To Orne, the weight was
+still only about twice that of his
+home planet of Chargon. He reached
+over, took the rifle, found safety
+belts, bound Tanub with them. Then
+he eased off the acceleration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t need slaves,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;We have machines to do our
+work. We&#8217;ll send experts in here,
+teach you people how to exploit your
+planet, how to build good transportation
+facilities, show you how to
+mine your minerals, how to&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what do we do in return?&#8221;
+whispered Tanub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You could start by teaching us
+how you make superior glass,&#8221; said
+Orne. &#8220;I certainly hope you see
+things our way. We really don&#8217;t want
+to have to come down there and
+clean you out. It&#8217;d be a shame to
+have to blast that city into little
+pieces.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tanub wilted. Presently, he said:
+&#8220;Send me back. I will discuss this
+with ... our council.&#8221; He stared at
+Orne. &#8220;You I-A&#8217;s are too strong.
+We did not know.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="newsection">In the wardroom of Stetson&#8217;s
+scout cruiser, the lights were low,
+the leather chairs comfortable, the
+green beige table set with a decanter
+of Hochar brandy and two
+glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Orne lifted his glass, sipped the
+liquor, smacked his lips. &#8220;For a while
+there, I thought I&#8217;d never be tasting
+anything like this again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stetson took his own glass. &#8220;ComGO
+heard the whole thing over the
+general monitor net,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;D&#8217;you know you&#8217;ve been breveted
+to senior field man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, they&#8217;ve already recognized
+my sterling worth,&#8221; said Orne.</p>
+
+<p>The wolfish grin took over Stetson&#8217;s
+big features. &#8220;Senior field men
+last about half as long as the juniors,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;Mortality&#8217;s terrific?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I might&#8217;ve known,&#8221; said Orne.
+He took another sip of the brandy.</p>
+
+<p>Stetson flicked on the switch of a
+recorder beside him. &#8220;O.K. You can
+go ahead any time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where do you want me to start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;First, how&#8217;d you spot right away
+where they&#8217;d hidden the <i>Delphinus</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Easy. Tanub&#8217;s word for his people
+was <i>Grazzi</i>. Most races call themselves
+something meaning <i>The People</i>.
+But in his tongue that&#8217;s <i>Ocheero</i>.
+<i>Grazzi</i> wasn&#8217;t on the translated list.
+I started working on it. The most
+likely answer was that it had been
+adopted from another language, and
+meant <i>enemy</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And <i>that</i> told you where the
+<i>Delphinus</i> was?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. But it fitted my hunch about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+these Gienahns. I&#8217;d kind of felt
+from the first minute of meeting
+them that they had a culture like the
+Indians of ancient Terra.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They came in like a primitive
+raiding party. The leader dropped
+right onto the hood of my sled. An
+act of bravery, no less. Counting
+coup, you see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then he said he was High Path
+Chief. That wasn&#8217;t on the language
+list, either. But it was easy: <i>Raider
+Chief.</i> There&#8217;s a word in almost
+every language in history that means
+raider and derives from a word for
+road, path or highway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Highwaymen,&#8221; said Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Raid itself,&#8221; said Orne. &#8220;An ancient
+Terran language corruption of
+road.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yeah, yeah. But where&#8217;d all this
+translation griff put&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be impatient. Glass-blowing
+culture meant they were just out
+of the primitive stage. That, we
+could control. Next, he said their
+moon was <i>Chiranachuruso</i>, translated
+as <i>The Limb of Victory</i>. After that
+it just fell into place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The vertical-slit pupils of their
+eyes. Doesn&#8217;t that mean anything to
+you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe. What&#8217;s it mean to you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Night-hunting predator accustomed
+to dropping upon its victims
+from above. No other type of creature
+ever has had the vertical slit.
+And Tanub said himself that the
+<i>Delphinus</i> was hidden in the best
+place in all of their history. History?
+That&#8217;d be a high place. Dark, likewise.
+Ergo: a high place on the darkside
+of their moon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a pie-eyed greepus,&#8221; whispered
+Stetson.</p>
+
+<p>Orne grinned, said: &#8220;You probably
+are ... sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p class="end">THE END</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="note">
+<p><strong>Transcriber&#8217;s Notes:</strong> The table below lists all corrections applied to
+the original text.</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#Page_102">p. 102</a>: [normalized] ComGo -> ComGO</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_103">p. 103</a>: net of snakers -> sneakers</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_105">p. 105</a>: [removed extra quote] &#8220;Orne swallowed</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_111">p. 111</a>: [added closing quote] &#8220;A glass-blowing culture,&#8221;</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,1409 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Missing Link
+
+Author: Frank Patrick Herbert
+
+Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23210]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISSING LINK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Markus Brenner and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISSING LINK
+
+BY FRANK HERBERT
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science
+Fiction, Volume LXII No. 6, February 1959. Extensive research did not
+uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was
+renewed.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_The Romantics used to say that the eyes were the windows of the Soul.
+A good Alien Xenologist might not put it quite so poetically ... but he
+can, if he's sharp, read a lot in the look of an eye!_
+
+Illustrated by van Dongen
+
+
+
+"We ought to scrape this planet clean of every living thing on it,"
+muttered Umbo Stetson, section chief of Investigation & Adjustment.
+
+Stetson paced the landing control bridge of his scout cruiser. His
+footsteps grated on a floor that was the rear wall of the bridge during
+flight. But now the ship rested on its tail fins--all four hundred
+glistening red and black meters of it. The open ports of the bridge
+looked out on the jungle roof of Gienah III some one hundred fifty
+meters below. A butter yellow sun hung above the horizon, perhaps an
+hour from setting.
+
+"Clean as an egg!" he barked. He paused in his round of the bridge,
+glared out the starboard port, spat into the fire-blackened circle that
+the cruiser's jets had burned from the jungle.
+
+The I-A section chief was dark-haired, gangling, with large head and big
+features. He stood in his customary slouch, a stance not improved by
+sacklike patched blue fatigues. Although on this present operation he
+rated the flag of a division admiral, his fatigues carried no insignia.
+There was a general unkempt, straggling look about him.
+
+Lewis Orne, junior I-A field man with a maiden diploma, stood at the
+opposite port, studying the jungle horizon. Now and then he glanced at
+the bridge control console, the chronometer above it, the big translite
+map of their position tilted from the opposite bulkhead. A heavy planet
+native, he felt vaguely uneasy on this Gienah III with its gravity of
+only seven-eighths Terran Standard. The surgical scars on his neck where
+the micro-communications equipment had been inserted itched maddeningly.
+He scratched.
+
+"Hah!" said Stetson. "Politicians!"
+
+A thin black insect with shell-like wings flew in Orne's port, settled
+in his close-cropped red hair. Orne pulled the insect gently from his
+hair, released it. Again it tried to land in his hair. He ducked. It
+flew across the bridge, out the port beside Stetson.
+
+There was a thick-muscled, no-fat look to Orne, but something about his
+blocky, off-center features suggested a clown.
+
+"I'm getting tired of waiting," he said.
+
+"_You're_ tired! Hah!"
+
+A breeze rippled the tops of the green ocean below them. Here and there,
+red and purple flowers jutted from the verdure, bending and nodding like
+an attentive audience.
+
+"Just look at that blasted jungle!" barked Stetson. "Them and their
+stupid orders!"
+
+A call bell tinkled on the bridge control console. The red light above
+the speaker grid began blinking. Stetson shot an angry glance at it.
+"Yeah, Hal?"
+
+"O.K., Stet. Orders just came through. We use Plan C. ComGO says to
+brief the field man, and jet out of here."
+
+"Did you ask them about using another field man?"
+
+Orne looked up attentively.
+
+The speaker said: "Yes. They said we have to use Orne because of the
+records on the _Delphinus_."
+
+"Well then, will they give us more time to brief him?"
+
+"Negative. It's crash priority. ComGO expects to blast the planet
+anyway."
+
+Stetson glared at the grid. "Those fat-headed, lard-bottomed,
+pig-brained ... POLITICIANS!" He took two deep breaths, subsided. "O.K.
+Tell them we'll comply."
+
+"One more thing, Stet."
+
+"What now?"
+
+"I've got a confirmed contact."
+
+Instantly, Stetson was poised on the balls of his feet, alert. "Where?"
+
+"About ten kilometers out. Section AAB-6."
+
+"How many?"
+
+"A mob. You want I should count them?"
+
+"No. What're they doing?"
+
+"Making a beeline for us. You better get a move on."
+
+"O.K. Keep us posted."
+
+"Right."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stetson looked across at his junior field man. "Orne, if you decide you
+want out of this assignment, you just say the word. I'll back you to the
+hilt."
+
+"Why should I want out of my first field assignment?"
+
+"Listen, and find out." Stetson crossed to a tilt-locker behind the big
+translite map, hauled out a white coverall uniform with gold insignia,
+tossed it to Orne. "Get into these while I brief you on the map."
+
+"But this is an R&R uni--" began Orne.
+
+"Get that uniform on your ugly frame!"
+
+"Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir. Right away, sir. But I thought I was
+through with old Rediscovery & Reeducation when you drafted me off of
+Hamal into the I-A ... sir." He began changing from the I-A blue to the
+R&R white. Almost as an afterthought, he said: "... Sir."
+
+A wolfish grin cracked Stetson's big features. "I'm soooooo happy you
+have the proper attitude of subservience toward authority."
+
+Orne zipped up the coverall uniform. "Oh, yes, sir ... sir."
+
+"O.K., Orne, pay attention." Stetson gestured at the map with its green
+superimposed grid squares. "Here we are. Here's that city we flew over
+on our way down. You'll head for it as soon as we drop you. The place is
+big enough that if you hold a course roughly northeast you can't miss
+it. We're--"
+
+Again the call bell rang.
+
+"What is it this time, Hal?" barked Stetson.
+
+"They've changed to Plan H, Stet. New orders cut."
+
+"Five days?"
+
+"That's all they can give us. ComGO says he can't keep the information
+out of High Commissioner Bullone's hands any longer than that."
+
+"It's five days for sure then."
+
+"Is this the usual R&R foul-up?" asked Orne.
+
+Stetson nodded. "Thanks to Bullone and company! We're just one jump
+ahead of catastrophe, but they still pump the bushwah into the Rah & Rah
+boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta!"
+
+"You're making light of my revered alma mater," said Orne. He struck a
+pose. "We must reunite the lost planets with our centers of culture and
+industry, and take up the _glor_-ious onward march of mankind that was
+so _bru_-tally--"
+
+"Can it!" snapped Stetson. "We both know we're going to rediscover one
+planet too many some day. Rim War all over again. But this is a
+different breed of fish. It's not, repeat, _not_ a _re_-discovery."
+
+Orne sobered. "Alien?"
+
+"Yes. A-L-I-E-N! A never-before-contacted culture. That language you
+were force fed on the way over, that's an alien language. It's not
+complete ... all we have off the _minis_. And we excluded data on the
+natives because we've been hoping to dump this project and nobody the
+wiser."
+
+"Holy mazoo!"
+
+"Twenty-six days ago an I-A search ship came through here, had a routine
+mini-sneaker look at the place. When he combed in his net of sneakers to
+check the tapes and films, lo and behold, he had a little stranger."
+
+"One of _theirs_?"
+
+"No. It was a _mini_ off the _Delphinus Rediscovery_. The _Delphinus_
+has been unreported for eighteen standard months!"
+
+"Did it crack up here?"
+
+"We don't know. If it did, we haven't been able to spot it. She was
+supposed to be way off in the Balandine System by now. But we've
+something else on our minds. It's the one item that makes me want to
+blot out this place, and run home with my tail between my legs. We've
+a--"
+
+Again the call bell chimed.
+
+"NOW WHAT?" roared Stetson into the speaker.
+
+"I've got a _mini_ over that mob, Stet. They're talking about us. It's a
+definite raiding party."
+
+"What armament?"
+
+"Too gloomy in that jungle to be sure. The infra beam's out on this
+_mini_. Looks like hard pellet rifles of some kind. Might even be off
+the _Delphinus_."
+
+"Can't you get closer?"
+
+"Wouldn't do any good. No light down there, and they're moving up fast."
+
+"Keep an eye on them, but don't ignore the other sectors," said Stetson.
+
+"You think I was born yesterday?" barked the voice from the grid. The
+contact broke off with an angry sound.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"One thing I like about the I-A," said Stetson. "It collects such
+even-tempered types." He looked at the white uniform on Orne, wiped a
+hand across his mouth as though he'd tasted something dirty.
+
+"Why _am_ I wearing this thing?" asked Orne.
+
+"Disguise."
+
+"But there's no mustache!"
+
+Stetson smiled without humor. "That's one of I-A's answers to those
+fat-keistered politicians. We're setting up our own search system to
+find the planets before _they_ do. We've managed to put spies in key
+places at R&R. Any touchy planets our spies report, we divert the
+files."
+
+"Then what?"
+
+"Then we look into them with bright boys like you--disguised as R&R
+field men."
+
+"Goody, goody. And what happens if R&R stumbles onto me while I'm down
+there playing patty cake?"
+
+"We disown you."
+
+"But you said an I-A ship found this joint."
+
+"It did. And then one of our spies in R&R intercepted a _routine_
+request for an agent-instructor to be assigned here with full equipment.
+Request signed by a First-Contact officer name of Diston ... of the
+_Delphinus_!"
+
+"But the Del--"
+
+"Yeah. Missing. The request was a forgery. Now you see why I'm mostly
+for rubbing out this place. Who'd dare forge such a thing unless he knew
+for sure that the original FC officer was missing ... or dead?"
+
+"What the jumped up mazoo are we doing here, Stet?" asked Orne. "Alien
+calls for a full contact team with all of the--"
+
+"It calls for one planet-buster bomb ... buster--in five days. Unless
+you give them a white bill in the meantime. High Commissioner Bullone
+will have word of this planet by then. If Gienah III still exists in
+five days, can't you imagine the fun the politicians'll have with it?
+Mama mia! We want this planet cleared for contact or dead before then."
+
+"I don't like this, Stet."
+
+"YOU don't like it!"
+
+"Look," said Orne. "There must be another way. Why ... when we teamed up
+with the Alerinoids we gained five hundred years in the physical
+sciences alone, not to mention the--"
+
+"The Alerinoids didn't knock over one of our survey ships first."
+
+"What if the _Delphinus_ just crashed here ... and the locals picked up
+the pieces?"
+
+"That's what you're going in to find out, Orne. But answer me this: If
+they _do_ have the _Delphinus_, how long before a tool-using race could
+be a threat to the galaxy?"
+
+"I saw that city they built, Stet. They could be dug in within six
+months, and there'd be no--"
+
+"Yeah."
+
+Orne shook his head. "But think of it: Two civilizations that matured
+along different lines! Think of all the different ways we'd approach the
+same problems ... the lever that'd give us for--"
+
+"You sound like a Uni-Galacta lecture! Are you through marching arm in
+arm into the misty future?"
+
+Orne took a deep breath. "Why's a freshman like me being tossed into
+this dish?"
+
+"You'd still be on the _Delphinus_ master lists as an R&R field man.
+That's important if you're masquerading."
+
+"Am I the only one? I know I'm a recent _convert_, but--"
+
+"You want out?"
+
+"I didn't say that. I just want to know why I'm--"
+
+"Because the bigdomes fed a set of requirements into one of their iron
+monsters. Your card popped out. They were looking for somebody capable,
+dependable ... and ... _expendable_!"
+
+"Hey!"
+
+"That's why I'm down here briefing you instead of sitting back on a
+flagship. _I_ got you into the I-A. Now, you listen carefully: If you
+push the panic button on this one without cause, I will personally flay
+you alive. We both know the advantages of an alien contact. But if you
+get into a hot spot, and call for help, I'll dive this cruiser into that
+city to get you out!"
+
+Orne swallowed. "Thanks, Stet. I'm--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We're going to take up a tight orbit. Out beyond us will be five
+transports full of I-A marines and a Class IX Monitor with one
+planet-buster. You're calling the shots, God help you! First, we want to
+know if they have the _Delphinus_ ... and if so, where it is. Next, we
+want to know just how warlike these goons are. Can we control them if
+they're bloodthirsty. What's their potential?"
+
+"In five days?"
+
+"Not a second more."
+
+"What do we know about them?"
+
+"Not much. They look something like an ancient Terran chimpanzee ...
+only with blue fur. Face is hairless, pink-skinned." Stetson snapped a
+switch. The translite map became a screen with a figure frozen on it.
+"Like that. This is life size."
+
+"Looks like the missing link they're always hunting for," said Orne.
+"Yeah, but you've got a different kind of a missing link."
+
+"Vertical-slit pupils in their eyes," said Orne. He studied the figure.
+It had been caught from the front by a mini-sneaker camera. About five
+feet tall. The stance was slightly bent forward, long arms. Two vertical
+nose slits. A flat, lipless mouth. Receding chin. Four-fingered hands.
+It wore a wide belt from which dangled neat pouches and what looked like
+tools, although their use was obscure. There appeared to be the tip of a
+tail protruding from behind one of the squat legs. Behind the creature
+towered the faery spires of the city they'd observed from the air.
+
+"Tails?" asked Orne.
+
+"Yeah. They're arboreal. Not a road on the whole planet that we can
+find. But there are lots of vine lanes through the jungles." Stetson's
+face hardened. "Match _that_ with a city as advanced as that one."
+
+"Slave culture?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"How many cities have they?"
+
+"We've found two. This one and another on the other side of the planet.
+But the other one's a ruin."
+
+"A ruin? Why?"
+
+"You tell us. Lots of mysteries here."
+
+"What's the planet like?"
+
+"Mostly jungle. There are polar oceans, lakes and rivers. One low
+mountain chain follows the equatorial belt about two thirds around the
+planet."
+
+"But only two cities. Are you sure?"
+
+"Reasonably so. It'd be pretty hard to miss something the size of that
+thing we flew over. It must be fifty kilometers long and at least ten
+wide. Swarming with these creatures, too. We've got a zone-count
+estimate that places the city's population at over thirty million."
+
+"Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too."
+
+"We don't know much about this place, Orne. And unless you bring them
+into the fold, there'll be nothing but ashes for our archaeologists to
+pick over."
+
+"Seems a dirty shame."
+
+"I agree, but--"
+
+The call bell jangled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stetson's voice sounded tired: "Yeah, Hal?"
+
+"That mob's only about five kilometers out, Stet. We've got Orne's gear
+outside in the disguised air sled."
+
+"We'll be right down."
+
+"Why a disguised sled?" asked Orne.
+
+"If they think it's a ground buggy, they might get careless when you
+most need an advantage. We could always scoop you out of the air, you
+know."
+
+"What're my chances on this one, Stet?"
+
+Stetson shrugged. "I'm afraid they're slim. These goons probably have
+the _Delphinus_, and they want you just long enough to get your
+equipment and everything you know."
+
+"Rough as that, eh?"
+
+"According to our best guess. If you're not out in five days, we blast."
+
+Orne cleared his throat.
+
+"Want out?" asked Stetson.
+
+"No."
+
+"Use the _back-door_ rule, son. Always leave yourself a way out. Now ...
+let's check that equipment the surgeons put in your neck." Stetson put a
+hand to his throat. His mouth remained closed, but there was a
+surf-hissing voice in Orne's ears: "You read me?"
+
+"Sure. I can--"
+
+"No!" hissed the voice. "Touch the mike contact. Keep your mouth closed.
+Just use your speaking muscles without speaking."
+
+Orne obeyed.
+
+"O.K.," said Stetson. "You come in loud and clear."
+
+"I ought to. I'm right on top of you!"
+
+"There'll be a relay ship over you all the time," said Stetson. "Now ...
+when you're not touching that mike contact this rig'll still feed us
+what you say ... and everything that goes on around you, too. We'll
+monitor everything. Got that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Stetson held out his right hand. "Good luck. I meant that about diving
+in for you. Just say the word."
+
+"I know the word, too," said Orne. "HELP!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles between monstrous bluish tree
+trunks--that was the jungle. Only the barest weak glimmering of sunlight
+penetrated to the mud. The disguised sled--its para-grav units turned
+off--lurched and skidded around buttress roots. Its headlights swung in
+wild arcs across the trunks and down to the mud. Aerial creepers--great
+looping vines of them--swung down from the towering forest ceiling. A
+steady drip of condensation spattered the windshield, forcing Orne to
+use the wipers.
+
+In the bucket seat of the sled's cab, Orne fought the controls. He was
+plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating sensation that a heavy planet
+native always feels in lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy stomach.
+
+Things skipped through the air around the lurching vehicle: flitting and
+darting things. Insects came in twin cones, siphoned toward the
+headlights. There was an endless chittering whistling tok-tok-toking in
+the gloom beyond the lights.
+
+Stetson's voice hissed suddenly through the surgically implanted
+speaker: "How's it look?"
+
+"Alien."
+
+"Any sign of that mob?"
+
+"Negative."
+
+"O.K. We're taking off."
+
+Behind Orne, there came a deep rumbling roar that receded as the scout
+cruiser climbed its jets. All other sounds hung suspended in
+after-silence, then resumed: the strongest first and then the weakest.
+
+A heavy object suddenly arced through the headlights, swinging on a
+vine. It disappeared behind a tree. Another. Another. Ghostly shadows
+with vine pendulums on both sides. Something banged down heavily onto
+the hood of the sled.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Orne braked to a creaking stop that shifted the load behind him, found
+himself staring through the windshield at a native of Gienah III. The
+native crouched on the hood, a Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in his
+right hand directed at Orne's head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, Orne
+recognized the weapon: standard issue to the marine guards on all R&R
+survey ships.
+
+The native appeared the twin of the one Orne had seen on the translite
+screen. The four-fingered hand looked extremely capable around the stock
+of the Mark XX.
+
+Slowly, Orne put a hand to his throat, pressed the contact button. He
+moved his speaking muscles: _"Just made contact with the mob. One on the
+hood now has one of our Mark XX rifles aimed at my head."_
+
+The surf-hissing of Stetson's voice came through the hidden speaker:
+_"Want us to come back?"_
+
+_"Negative. Stand by. He looks cautious rather than hostile."_
+
+Orne held up his right hand, palm out. He had a second thought: held up
+his left hand, too. Universal symbol of peaceful intentions: empty
+hands. The gun muzzle lowered slightly. Orne called into his mind the
+language that had been hypnoforced into him. _Ocheero? No. That means
+'The People.' Ah ..._ And he had the heavy fricative greeting sound.
+
+"Ffroiragrazzi," he said.
+
+The native shifted to the left, answered in pure, unaccented High
+Galactese: "Who are you?"
+
+Orne fought down a sudden panic. The lipless mouth had looked so odd
+forming the familiar words.
+
+Stetson's voice hissed: _"Is that the native speaking Galactese?"_
+
+Orne touched his throat. _"You heard him."_
+
+He dropped his hand, said: "I am Lewis Orne of Rediscovery and
+Reeducation. I was sent here at the request of the First-Contact officer
+on the _Delphinus Rediscovery_."
+
+"Where is your ship?" demanded the Gienahn.
+
+"It put me down and left."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It was behind schedule for another appointment."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Out of the corners of his eyes, Orne saw more shadows dropping to the
+mud around him. The sled shifted as someone climbed onto the load behind
+the cab. The someone scuttled agilely for a moment.
+
+The native climbed down to the cab's side step, opened the door. The
+rifle was held at the ready. Again, the lipless mouth formed Galactese
+words: "What do you carry in this ... vehicle?"
+
+"The equipment every R&R field man uses to help the people of a
+rediscovered planet improve themselves." Orne nodded at the rifle.
+"Would you mind pointing that weapon some other direction? It makes me
+nervous."
+
+The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly on Orne's middle. The native's
+mouth opened, revealing long canines. "Do we not look strange to you?"
+
+"I take it there's been a heavy mutational variation in the humanoid
+norm on this planet," said Orne. "What is it? Hard radiation?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"It doesn't really make any difference, of course," said Orne. "I'm here
+to help you."
+
+"I am Tanub, High Path Chief of the Grazzi," said the native. "I decide
+who is to help."
+
+Orne swallowed.
+
+"Where do you go?" demanded Tanub.
+
+"I was hoping to go to your city. Is it permitted?"
+
+A long pause while the vertical-slit pupils of Tanub's eyes expanded and
+contracted. "It is permitted."
+
+Stetson's voice came through the hidden speaker: _"All bets off. We're
+coming in after you. That Mark XX is the final straw. It means they have
+the_ Delphinus _for sure!"_
+
+Orne touched his throat. _"No! Give me a little more time!"_
+
+_"Why?"_
+
+_"I have a hunch about these creatures."_
+
+_"What is it?"_
+
+_"No time now. Trust me."_
+
+Another long pause in which Orne and Tanub continued to study each
+other. Presently, Stetson said: _"O.K. Go ahead as planned. But find out
+where the_ Delphinus _is! If we get that back we pull their teeth."_
+
+"Why do you keep touching your throat?" demanded Tanub.
+
+"I'm nervous," said Orne. "Guns always make me nervous."
+
+The muzzle lowered slightly.
+
+"Shall we continue on to your city?" asked Orne. He wet his lips with
+his tongue. The cab light on Tanub's face was giving the Gienahn an
+eerie sinister look.
+
+"We can go soon," said Tanub.
+
+"Will you join me inside here?" asked Orne. "There's a passenger seat
+right behind me."
+
+Tanub's eyes moved catlike: right, left. "Yes." He turned, barked an
+order into the jungle gloom, then climbed in behind Orne.
+
+"When do we go?" asked Orne.
+
+"The great sun will be down soon," said Tanub. "We can continue as soon
+as Chiranachuruso rises."
+
+"Chiranachuruso?"
+
+"Our satellite ... our moon," said Tanub.
+
+"It's a beautiful word," said Orne. "Chiranachuruso."
+
+"In our tongue it means: The Limb of Victory," said Tanub. "By its light
+we will continue."
+
+Orne turned, looked back at Tanub. "Do you mean to tell me that you can
+see by what light gets down here through those trees?"
+
+"Can you not see?" asked Tanub.
+
+"Not without the headlights."
+
+"Our eyes differ," said Tanub. He bent toward Orne, peered. The vertical
+slit pupils of his eyes expanded, contracted. "You are the same as the
+... others."
+
+"Oh, on the _Delphinus_?"
+
+Pause. "Yes."
+
+Presently, a greater gloom came over the jungle, bringing a sudden
+stillness to the wild life. There was a chittering commotion from the
+natives in the trees around the sled. Tanub shifted behind Orne.
+
+"We may go now," he said. "Slowly ... to stay behind my ... scouts."
+
+"Right." Orne eased the sled forward around an obstructing root.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silence while they crawled ahead. Around them shapes flung themselves
+from vine to vine.
+
+"I admired your city from the air," said Orne. "It is very beautiful."
+
+"Yes," said Tanub. "Why did you land so far from it?"
+
+"We didn't want to come down where we might destroy anything."
+
+"There is nothing to destroy in the jungle," said Tanub.
+
+"Why do you have such a big city?" asked Orne.
+
+Silence.
+
+"I said: Why do you--"
+
+"You are ignorant of our ways," said Tanub. "Therefore, I forgive you.
+The city is for our race. We must breed and be born in sunlight.
+Once--long ago--we used crude platforms on the tops of the trees. Now
+... only the ... wild ones do this."
+
+Stetson's voice hissed in Orne's ears: _"Easy on the sex line, boy.
+That's always touchy. These creatures are oviparous. Sex glands are
+apparently hidden in that long fur behind where their chins ought to
+be."_
+
+"Who controls the breeding sites controls our world," said Tanub. "Once
+there was another city. We destroyed it."
+
+"Are there many ... wild ones?" asked Orne.
+
+"Fewer each year," said Tanub.
+
+_"There's how they get their slaves,"_ hissed Stetson.
+
+"You speak excellent Galactese," said Orne.
+
+"The High Path Chief commanded the best teacher," said Tanub. "Do you,
+too, know many things, Orne?"
+
+"That's why I was sent here," said Orne.
+
+"Are there many planets to teach?" asked Tanub.
+
+"Very many," said Orne. "Your city--I saw very tall buildings. Of what
+do you build them?"
+
+"In your tongue--glass," said Tanub. "The engineers of the _Delphinus_
+said it was impossible. As you saw--they are wrong."
+
+_"A glass-blowing culture,"_ hissed Stetson. _"That'd explain a lot of
+things."_
+
+Slowly, the disguised sled crept through the jungle. Once, a scout
+swooped down into the headlights, waved. Orne stopped on Tanub's order,
+and they waited almost ten minutes before proceeding.
+
+"Wild ones?" asked Orne.
+
+"Perhaps," said Tanub.
+
+A glowing of many lights grew visible through the giant tree trunks. It
+grew brighter as the sled crept through the last of the jungle, emerged
+in cleared land at the edge of the city.
+
+Orne stared upward in awe. The city fluted and spiraled into the moonlit
+sky. It was a fragile appearing lacery of bridges, winking dots of
+light. The bridges wove back and forth from building to building until
+the entire visible network appeared one gigantic dew-glittering web.
+
+"All that with glass," murmured Orne.
+
+_"What's happening?"_ hissed Stetson.
+
+Orne touched his throat contact. _"We're just into the city clearing,
+proceeding toward the nearest building."_
+
+"This is far enough," said Tanub.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orne stopped the sled. In the moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns all
+around. The buttressed pedestal of one of the buildings loomed directly
+ahead. It looked taller than had the scout cruiser in its jungle landing
+circle.
+
+Tanub leaned close to Orne's shoulder. "We have not deceived you, have
+we, Orne?"
+
+"Huh? What do you mean?"
+
+"You have recognized that we are not mutated members of your race."
+
+Orne swallowed. Into his ears came Stetson's voice: _"Better admit it."_
+
+"That's true," said Orne.
+
+"I like you, Orne," said Tanub. "You shall be one of my slaves. You will
+teach me many things."
+
+"How did you capture the _Delphinus_?" asked Orne.
+
+"You know that, too?"
+
+"You have one of their rifles," said Orne.
+
+"Your race is no match for us, Orne ... in cunning, in strength, in the
+prowess of the mind. Your ship landed to repair its tubes. Very inferior
+ceramics in those tubes."
+
+Orne turned, looked at Tanub in the dim glow of the cab light. "Have you
+heard about the I-A, Tanub?"
+
+"I-A? What is that?" There was a wary tenseness in the Gienahn's figure.
+His mouth opened to reveal the long canines.
+
+"You took the _Delphinus_ by treachery?" asked Orne.
+
+"They were simple fools," said Tanub. "We are smaller, thus they thought
+us weaker." The Mark XX's muzzle came around to center on Orne's
+stomach. "You have not answered my question. What is the I-A?"
+
+"I am of the I-A," said Orne. "Where've you hidden the _Delphinus_?"
+
+"In the place that suits us best," said Tanub. "In all our history there
+has never been a better place."
+
+"What do you plan to do with it?" asked Orne.
+
+"Within a year we will have a copy with our own improvements. After
+that--"
+
+"You intend to start a war?" asked Orne.
+
+"In the jungle the strong slay the weak until only the strong remain,"
+said Tanub.
+
+"And then the strong prey upon each other?" asked Orne.
+
+"That is a quibble for women," said Tanub.
+
+"It's too bad you feel that way," said Orne. "When two cultures meet
+like this they tend to help each other. What have you done with the crew
+of the _Delphinus_?"
+
+"They are slaves," said Tanub. "Those who still live. Some resisted.
+Others objected to teaching us what we want to know." He waved the gun
+muzzle. "You will not be that foolish, will you, Orne?"
+
+"No need to be," said Orne. "I've another little lesson to teach you: I
+already know where you've hidden the _Delphinus_."
+
+_"Go, boy!"_ hissed Stetson. _"Where is it?"_
+
+"Impossible!" barked Tanub.
+
+"It's on your moon," said Orne. "Darkside. It's on a mountain on the
+darkside of your moon."
+
+Tanub's eyes dilated, contracted. "You read minds?"
+
+"The I-A has no need to read minds," said Orne. "We rely on superior
+mental prowess."
+
+_"The marines are on their way,"_ hissed Stetson. _"We're coming in to
+get you. I'm going to want to know how you guessed that one."_
+
+"You are a weak fool like the others," gritted Tanub.
+
+"It's too bad you formed your opinion of us by observing only the low
+grades of the R&R," said Orne.
+
+_"Easy, boy,"_ hissed Stetson. _"Don't pick a fight with him now.
+Remember, his race is arboreal. He's probably as strong as an ape."_
+
+"I could kill you where you sit!" grated Tanub.
+
+"You write finish for your entire planet if you do," said Orne. "I'm not
+alone. There are others listening to every word we say. There's a ship
+overhead that could split open your planet with one bomb--wash it with
+molten rock. It'd run like the glass you use for your buildings."
+
+"You are lying!"
+
+"We'll make you an offer," said Orne. "We don't really want to
+exterminate you. We'll give you limited membership in the Galactic
+Federation until you prove you're no menace to us."
+
+_"Keep talking,"_ hissed Stetson. _"Keep him interested."_
+
+"You dare insult me!" growled Tanub.
+
+"You had better believe me," said Orne. "We--"
+
+Stetson's voice interrupted him: _"Got it, Orne! They caught the_
+Delphinus _on the ground right where you said it'd be! Blew the tubes
+off it. Marines now mopping up."_
+
+"It's like this," said Orne. "We already have recaptured the
+_Delphinus_." Tanub's eyes went instinctively skyward. "Except for the
+captured armament you still hold, you obviously don't have the weapons
+to meet us," continued Orne. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be carrying that
+rifle off the _Delphinus_."
+
+"If you speak the truth, then we shall die bravely," said Tanub.
+
+"No need for you to die," said Orne.
+
+"Better to die than be slaves," said Tanub.
+
+"We don't need slaves," said Orne. "We--"
+
+"I cannot take the chance that you are lying," said Tanub. "I must kill
+you now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orne's foot rested on the air sled control pedal. He depressed it.
+Instantly, the sled shot skyward, heavy G's pressing them down into the
+seats. The gun in Tanub's hands was slammed into his lap. He struggled
+to raise it. To Orne, the weight was still only about twice that of his
+home planet of Chargon. He reached over, took the rifle, found safety
+belts, bound Tanub with them. Then he eased off the acceleration.
+
+"We don't need slaves," said Orne. "We have machines to do our work.
+We'll send experts in here, teach you people how to exploit your planet,
+how to build good transportation facilities, show you how to mine your
+minerals, how to--"
+
+"And what do we do in return?" whispered Tanub.
+
+"You could start by teaching us how you make superior glass," said Orne.
+"I certainly hope you see things our way. We really don't want to have
+to come down there and clean you out. It'd be a shame to have to blast
+that city into little pieces."
+
+Tanub wilted. Presently, he said: "Send me back. I will discuss this
+with ... our council." He stared at Orne. "You I-A's are too strong. We
+did not know."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the wardroom of Stetson's scout cruiser, the lights were low, the
+leather chairs comfortable, the green beige table set with a decanter of
+Hochar brandy and two glasses.
+
+Orne lifted his glass, sipped the liquor, smacked his lips. "For a while
+there, I thought I'd never be tasting anything like this again."
+
+Stetson took his own glass. "ComGO heard the whole thing over the
+general monitor net," he said. "D'you know you've been breveted to
+senior field man?"
+
+"Ah, they've already recognized my sterling worth," said Orne.
+
+The wolfish grin took over Stetson's big features. "Senior field men
+last about half as long as the juniors," he said. "Mortality's
+terrific?"
+
+"I might've known," said Orne. He took another sip of the brandy.
+
+Stetson flicked on the switch of a recorder beside him. "O.K. You can go
+ahead any time."
+
+"Where do you want me to start?"
+
+"First, how'd you spot right away where they'd hidden the _Delphinus_?"
+
+"Easy. Tanub's word for his people was _Grazzi_. Most races call
+themselves something meaning _The People_. But in his tongue that's
+_Ocheero_. _Grazzi_ wasn't on the translated list. I started working on
+it. The most likely answer was that it had been adopted from another
+language, and meant _enemy_."
+
+"And _that_ told you where the _Delphinus_ was?"
+
+"No. But it fitted my hunch about these Gienahns. I'd kind of felt from
+the first minute of meeting them that they had a culture like the
+Indians of ancient Terra."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They came in like a primitive raiding party. The leader dropped right
+onto the hood of my sled. An act of bravery, no less. Counting coup, you
+see?"
+
+"I guess so."
+
+"Then he said he was High Path Chief. That wasn't on the language list,
+either. But it was easy: _Raider Chief._ There's a word in almost every
+language in history that means raider and derives from a word for road,
+path or highway."
+
+"Highwaymen," said Stetson.
+
+"Raid itself," said Orne. "An ancient Terran language corruption of
+road."
+
+"Yeah, yeah. But where'd all this translation griff put--"
+
+"Don't be impatient. Glass-blowing culture meant they were just out of
+the primitive stage. That, we could control. Next, he said their moon
+was _Chiranachuruso_, translated as _The Limb of Victory_. After that it
+just fell into place."
+
+"How?"
+
+"The vertical-slit pupils of their eyes. Doesn't that mean anything to
+you?"
+
+"Maybe. What's it mean to you?"
+
+"Night-hunting predator accustomed to dropping upon its victims from
+above. No other type of creature ever has had the vertical slit. And
+Tanub said himself that the _Delphinus_ was hidden in the best place in
+all of their history. History? That'd be a high place. Dark, likewise.
+Ergo: a high place on the darkside of their moon."
+
+"I'm a pie-eyed greepus," whispered Stetson.
+
+Orne grinned, said: "You probably are ... sir."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes: The table below lists all corrections applied to
+the original text.
+
+p. 102: [normalized] ComGo -> ComGO
+p. 103: net of snakers -> sneakers
+p. 105: [removed extra quote] "Orne swallowed
+p. 111: [added closing quote] "A glass-blowing culture,"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert
+
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