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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sense of Obligation, by 
+Henry Maxwell Dempsey (AKA Harry Harrison)
+
+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: Sense of Obligation
+
+Author: Henry Maxwell Dempsey (AKA Harry Harrison)
+
+Release Date: February 7, 2011 [EBook #35204]
+[Last updated: May 26, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SENSE OF OBLIGATION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Adam Styles and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction September,
+October, November 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
+that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Page numbers
+jump between issues since they reflect the original magazine pages as
+can be seen in the detailed notes at the end of this text. Minor
+typographic errors have been corrected.
+
+
+
+
+                                 SENSE
+                             OF OBLIGATION
+
+                           By HARRY HARRISON
+
+    _It took a very special type of man for the job--and the job was
+    onerous, dangerous, and the only really probable reward was
+    disaster. But when a man who says he knows it's going to kill him
+    asks you to join...._
+
+                        Illustrated by von Dongen
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+    _A man said to the universe:
+    "Sir, I exist!"
+    "However," replied the universe,
+    "The fact has not created in me
+    A sense of obligation."_
+
+    Stephen Crane
+
+
+Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight loincloth that was
+the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his hand felt as
+heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by a month of
+continual exercise. These things were of no importance. The cut on his
+chest, still dripping blood, the ache of his overstrained eyes--even the
+soaring arena around him with the thousands of spectators--were
+trivialities not worth thinking about. There was only one thing in his
+universe: the button-tipped length of shining steel that hovered before
+him, engaging his own weapon. He felt the quiver and scrape of its life,
+knew when it moved and moved himself to counteract it. And when he
+attacked, it was always there to beat him aside.
+
+A sudden motion. He reacted--but his blade just met air. His instant of
+panic was followed by a small sharp blow high on his chest.
+
+"_Touch!_" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word to a million waiting
+loud-speakers, and the applause of the audience echoed back in a wave of
+sound.
+
+"One minute," a voice said, and the time buzzer sounded.
+
+Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself. A minute is not
+a very large measure of time and his body needed every fraction of it.
+The buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into complete relaxation. Only
+his heart and lungs worked on at a strong, measured rate. His eyes
+closed and he was only distantly aware of his handlers catching him as
+he fell, carrying him to his bench. While they massaged his limp body
+and cleansed the wound, all of his attention was turned inward. He was
+in reverie, sliding along the borders of consciousness. The nagging
+memory of the previous night loomed up then, and he turned it over and
+over in his mind, examining it from all sides.
+
+It was the very unexpectedness of the event that had been so unusual.
+The contestants in the Twenties needed undisturbed rest, therefore
+nights in the dormitories were quiet as death. During the first few
+days, of course, the rule wasn't observed too closely. The men
+themselves were too keyed up and excited to rest easily. But as soon as
+the scores begin to mount and eliminations cut into their ranks, there
+is complete silence after dark. Particularly so on this last night, when
+only two of the little cubicles were occupied, the thousands of others
+standing with dark, empty doors.
+
+Angry words had dragged Brion from a deep and exhausted sleep. The words
+were whispered but clear, two voices, just outside the thin metal of his
+door. Someone spoke his name.
+
+"... Brion Brandd. Of course not. Whoever said you could was making a
+big mistake and there is going to be trouble--"
+
+"Don't talk like an idiot!" This other voice snapped with a harsh
+urgency, clearly used to command. "I'm here because the matter is of
+utmost importance, and Brandd is the one I must see. Now stand aside!"
+
+"The Twenties--"
+
+"I don't give a damn about your games, hearty cheers and physical
+exercises. This is _important_ or I wouldn't be here!"
+
+The other didn't speak--he was surely one of the officials--and Brion
+could sense his outraged anger. He must have drawn his gun, because the
+other man said quickly, "Put that away. You're being a fool!"
+
+"Out!" was the single snarled word of the response. There was silence
+then and, still wondering, Brion was once more asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ten seconds."
+
+The voice chopped away Brion's memories and he let awareness seep back
+into his body. He was unhappily conscious of his total exhaustion. The
+month of continuous mental and physical combat had taken its toll. It
+would be hard to stay on his feet, much less summon the strength and
+skill to fight and win a touch.
+
+"How do we stand?" he asked the handler who was kneading his aching
+muscles.
+
+"Four ... four. All you need is a touch to win!"
+
+"That's all he needs, too," Brion grunted, opening his eyes to look at
+the wiry length of the man at the other end of the long mat. No one who
+had reached the finals in the Twenties could possibly be a weak
+opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the pick of the lot. A red-haired,
+mountain of a man, with an apparently inexhaustible store of energy.
+That was really all that counted now. There could be little art in this
+last and final round of fencing. Just thrust and parry, and victory to
+the stronger.
+
+Brion closed his eyes again and knew the moment he had been hoping to
+avoid had arrived.
+
+Every man who entered the Twenties had his own training tricks. Brion
+had a few individual ones that had helped him so far. He was a
+moderately strong chess player, but he had moved to quick victory in the
+chess rounds by playing incredibly unorthodox games. This was no
+accident, but the result of years of work. He had a standing order with
+offplanet agents for archaic chess books, the older the better. He had
+memorized thousands of these ancient games and openings. This was
+allowed. Anything was allowed that didn't involve drugs or machines.
+Self-hypnosis was an accepted tool.
+
+It had taken Brion over two years to find a way to tap the sources of
+hysterical strength. Common as the phenomenon seemed to be in the
+textbooks, it proved impossible to duplicate. There appeared to be an
+immediate association with the death-trauma, as if the two were
+inextricably linked into one. Berserkers and juramentados continue to
+fight and kill though carved by scores of mortal wounds. Men with
+bullets in the heart or brain fight on, though already clinically dead.
+Death seemed an inescapable part of this kind of strength. But there was
+another type that could easily be brought about in any deep
+trance--hypnotic rigidity. The strength that enables someone in a trance
+to hold his body stiff and unsupported except at two points, the head
+and heels. This is physically impossible when conscious. Working with
+this as a clue, Brion had developed a self-hypnotic technique that
+allowed him to tap these reservoirs of unknown strength. The source of
+"second wind," the survival strength that made the difference between
+life and death.
+
+It could also kill. Exhaust the body beyond hope of recovery,
+particularly when in a weakened condition as his was now. But that
+wasn't important. Others had died before during the Twenties, and death
+during the last round was in some ways easier than defeat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Breathing deeply, Brion softly spoke the auto-hypnotic phrases that
+triggered the process. Fatigue fell softly from him, as did all
+sensations of heat, cold and pain. He could feel with acute sensitivity,
+hear, and see clearly when he opened his eyes.
+
+With each passing second the power drew at the basic reserves of life,
+draining it from his body.
+
+When the buzzer sounded he pulled his foil from his second's startled
+grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had barely time to grab up his own weapon
+and parry Brion's first thrust. The force of his rush was so great that
+the guards on their weapons locked, and their bodies crashed together.
+Irolg looked amazed at the sudden fury of the attack--then smiled. He
+thought it was a last burst of energy, he knew how close they both were
+to exhaustion. This must be the end for Brion.
+
+They disengaged and Irolg put up a solid defense. He didn't attempt to
+attack, just let Brion wear himself out against the firm shield of his
+defense.
+
+Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's face when the man
+finally recognized his error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything he was
+pressing the attack. A wave of despair rolled out from Irolg--Brion
+sensed it and knew the fifth point was his.
+
+Thrust--thrust--and each time the parrying sword a little slower to
+return. Then the powerful twist that thrust it aside. In and under the
+guard. The slap of the button on flesh and the arc of steel that reached
+out and ended on Irolg's chest over his heart.
+
+Waves of sound--cheering and screaming--lapped against Brion's private
+world, but he was only remotely aware of their existence. Irolg dropped
+his foil, and tried to shake Brion's hand, but his legs suddenly gave
+way. Brion had an arm around him, holding him up, walking towards the
+rushing handlers. Then Irolg was gone and he waved off his own men,
+walking slowly by himself.
+
+Except something was wrong and it was like walking through warm glue.
+Walking on his knees. No, not walking, falling. At last. He was able to
+let go and fall.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Ihjel gave the doctors exactly one day before he went to the hospital.
+Brion wasn't dead, though there had been some doubt about that the night
+before. Now, a full day later, he was on the mend and that was all Ihjel
+wanted to know. He bullied and strong-armed his way to the new Winner's
+room, meeting his first stiff resistance at the door.
+
+"You're out of order, Winner Ihjel," the doctor said. "And if you keep
+on forcing yourself in here, where you are not wanted, rank or no rank I
+shall be obliged to break your head."
+
+Ihjel had just begun to tell him, in some detail, just how slim his
+chances were of accomplishing that, when Brion interrupted them both. He
+recognized the newcomer's voice from the final night in the barracks.
+
+"Let him in, Dr. Caulry," he said. "I want to meet a man who thinks
+there is something more important than the Twenties."
+
+While the doctor stood undecided, Ihjel moved quickly around him and
+closed the door in his flushed face. He looked down at the Winner in the
+bed. There was a drip plugged into each one of Brion's arms. His eyes
+peered from sooty hollows; the eyeballs were a network of red veins. The
+silent battle he fought against death had left its mark. His square,
+jutting jaw now seemed all bone, as did his long nose and high
+cheekbones. They were prominent landmarks rising from the limp grayness
+of his skin. Only the erect bristle of his close-cropped hair was
+unchanged. He had the appearance of having suffered a long and wasting
+illness.
+
+"You look like sin," Ihjel said. "But congratulations on your victory."
+
+"You don't look so very good yourself--for a Winner," Brion snapped
+back. His exhaustion and sudden peevish anger at this man let the
+insulting words slip out. Ihjel ignored them.
+
+But it was true, Winner Ihjel looked very little like a Winner, or even
+an Anvharian. He had the height and the frame all right, but it was
+draped in billows of fat. Rounded, soft tissue that hung loosely from
+his limbs and made little limp rolls on his neck and under his eyes.
+There were no fat men on Anvhar and it was incredible that a man so
+gross could ever have been a Winner. If there was muscle under the fat,
+it couldn't be seen. Only his eyes appeared to still hold the strength
+that had once bested every man on the planet to win the annual games.
+Brion turned away from their burning stare, sorry now he had insulted
+the man without good reason. He was too sick though to bother about
+apologizing.
+
+Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again and felt the
+impression of things so important that himself, his insults, even the
+Twenties were of no more interest than dust motes in the air. It was
+only a fantasy of sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to shake the
+feeling off. The two men stared at each other, sharing a common emotion.
+
+The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he wheeled about, moving as
+only an athlete of Anvhar can move. Dr. Caulry was halfway through the
+door, off balance. Two more men in uniform came close behind him.
+Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and the mountainous mass of
+his flesh sending them back in a tangle of arms and legs. He slammed the
+door and locked it in their faces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have to talk to you," he said, turning back to Brion. "Privately," he
+added, bending over and ripping out the communicator with a sweep of one
+hand.
+
+"Get out," Brion told him. "If I were able--"
+
+"Well you're not, so you're just going to have to lie there and listen.
+I imagine we have about five minutes before they decide to break the
+door down, and I don't want to waste any more of that. Will you come
+with me offworld? There's a job that must be done, it's my job but I'm
+going to need help. You're the only one who can give me that help.
+
+"Now refuse," he added as Brion started to answer.
+
+"Of course I refuse," Brion said, feeling a little foolish and slightly
+angry, as if the other man had put the words into his mouth. "Anvhar is
+my planet--why should I leave? My life is here and so is my work. I also
+might add that I have just won the Twenties, I have a responsibility to
+remain."
+
+"Nonsense. I'm a Winner and I left. What you really mean is you would
+like to enjoy a little of the ego-inflation you have worked so hard to
+get. Off Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is--much less respects
+one. You have to face a big universe out there and I don't blame you for
+being a little frightened."
+
+Someone was hammering loudly on the door.
+
+"I haven't the strength to get angry," Brion said hoarsely. "And I can't
+bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you to insult a man
+too ill to defend himself."
+
+"I apologize," Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy in his
+voice. "But there are more desperate issues involved other than your
+hurt feelings. We don't have much time now, so I want to impress you
+with an idea."
+
+"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with you? That's
+expecting a lot."
+
+"No, this idea won't convince you--but thinking about it will. If you
+really _consider_ it you will find a lot of your illusions shattered.
+Like everyone else on Anvhar you're a Scientific Humanist with your
+faith firmly planted in the Twenties. You accept both of those noble
+institutions without an instant's thought. All of you haven't a single
+thought for the past, for the untold billions who led the bad life as
+mankind slowly built up the good life for you to lead. Do you ever think
+of all the people who suffered and died in misery and superstition while
+civilization was clicking forward one more slow notch?"
+
+"Of course I don't think about them," Brion snapped back. "Why should I?
+I can't change the past."
+
+"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You owe something to the
+suffering ancestors who got you where you are today. If Scientific
+Humanism means anything more than plain words to you, you must possess a
+sense of responsibility. Don't you want to try and pay off a bit of this
+debt by helping others who are just as backward and disease ridden today
+as great-grandfather Troglodyte ever was?"
+
+The hammering on the door was louder, this and the drug-induced buzzing
+in Brion's ears made thinking difficult. "Abstractedly I, of course,
+agree with you," he said haltingly. "But you know there is nothing I can
+do personally without being emotionally involved. A logical decision is
+valueless for action without personal meaning."
+
+"Then we have reached the crux of the matter," Ihjel said gently. His
+back was braced against the door, absorbing the thudding blows of some
+heavy object on the outside. "They're knocking, so I must be going
+soon. I have no time for details, but I can assure you, upon my word of
+honor as a Winner, that there is something you can do. Only you. If you
+help me, we might save seven million human lives. That is a fact...."
+
+The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel shouldered it back
+into the frame for a final instant.
+
+"... Here is the idea I want you to consider: Why is it that the people
+of Anvhar in a galaxy filled with warring, hate-filled, backward
+planets, should be the only ones who base their entire existence on a
+complicated series of games?"
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+This time there was no way to hold the door. Ihjel didn't try. He
+stepped aside and two men stumbled into the room. He walked out behind
+their backs without saying a word.
+
+"What happened? What did he do?" the doctor asked, rushing in through
+the ruined door. He swept a glance over the continuous recording dials
+at the foot of Brion's bed. Respiration, temperature, heart, blood
+pressure--all were normal. The patient lay quietly and didn't answer
+him.
+
+For the rest of that day, Brion had much to think about. It was
+difficult. The fatigue, mixed with the tranquilizers and other drugs had
+softened his contact with reality. His thoughts kept echoing back and
+forth in his mind, unable to escape. What had Ihjel meant? What was
+that nonsense about Anvhar? Anvhar was that way because ... well it
+just was. It had come about naturally. Or had it? The planet had a very
+simple history.
+
+From the very beginning there had never been anything of real commercial
+interest on Anvhar. Well off the interstellar trade routes, there were
+no minerals worth digging and transporting the immense distances to the
+nearest inhabited worlds. Hunting the winter beasts for their pelts was
+a profitable but very minor enterprise, never sufficient for mass
+markets. Therefore no organized attempt had ever been made to colonize
+the planet. In the end it had been settled completely by chance. A
+number of offplanet scientific groups had established observation and
+research stations, finding unlimited data to observe and record during
+Anvhar's unusual yearly cycle. The long-duration observations encouraged
+the scientific workers to bring their families and, slowly but steadily,
+small settlements grew up. Many of the fur hunters settled there as
+well, adding to the small population. This had been the beginning.
+
+Few records existed of those early days, and the first six centuries of
+Anvharian history were more speculation than fact. The Breakdown
+occurred about that time and in the galaxy-wide disruption, Anvhar had
+to fight its own internal battle. When the Earth Empire collapsed it was
+the end of more than an era. Many of the observation stations found
+themselves representing institutions that no longer existed. The
+professional hunters no longer had markets for their furs, since Anvhar
+possessed no interstellar ships of its own. There had been no real
+physical hardship involved in the Breakdown, as it affected Anvhar,
+since the planet was completely self sufficient. Once they had made the
+mental adjustment to the fact that they were now a sovereign world, not
+a collection of casual visitors with various loyalties, life continued
+unchanged. Not easy--living on Anvhar is never easy--but at least
+without difference on the surface.
+
+The thoughts and attitudes of the people were however going through a
+great transformation. Many attempts were made to develop some form of
+stable society and social relationship. Again little record exists of
+these early trials, other than the fact of their culmination in the
+Twenties.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To understand the Twenties, you have to understand the unusual orbit
+that Anvhar tracks around its sun, 70 Ophiuchi. There are other planets
+in this system, all of them more or less conforming to the plane of the
+ecliptic. Anvhar is obviously a rogue, perhaps a captured planet of
+another sun. For the greatest part of its 780-day year it arcs far out
+from its primary, in a high-angled sweeping cometary orbit. When it
+returns there is a brief, hot summer of approximately eighty days before
+the long winter sets in once more. This severe difference in seasonal
+change has caused profound adaptations in the native life forms. During
+the winter most of the animals hibernate, the vegetable life lying
+dormant as spores or seeds. Some of the warm-blooded herbivores stay
+active in the snow-covered tropics, preyed upon by fur-insulated
+carnivores. Though unbelievably cold, the winter is a season of peace in
+comparison to the summer.
+
+This is a time of mad growth. Plants burst into life with a strength
+that cracks rocks, growing fast enough for the motion to be seen. The
+snow fields melt into mud and within days a jungle stretches high into
+the air. Everything grows, swells, proliferates. Plants climb on top of
+plants, fighting for the life-energy of the sun. Everything is eat and
+be eaten, grow and thrive in the short season. Because when the first
+snow of winter falls again, ninety per cent of the year must pass until
+the next coming of warmth.
+
+Mankind has had to adapt to the Anvharian cycle in order to stay alive.
+Food must be gathered and stored, enough to last out the long winter.
+Generation after generation had adapted until they look on the mad
+seasonal imbalance as something quite ordinary. The first thaw of
+almost-nonexistent spring triggers a wide reaching metabolic change in
+the humans. Layers of subcutaneous fat vanish and half-dormant sweat
+glands come to life. Other changes are more subtle than the temperature
+adjustment, but equally important. The sleep center of the brain is
+depressed. Short naps or a night's rest every third or fourth day become
+enough. Life takes on a hectic and hysterical quality that is perfectly
+suited to the environment. By the time of the first frost, rapid growing
+crops have been raised and harvested, sides of meat either preserved or
+frozen in mammoth lockers. With his supreme talent of adaptability
+mankind has become part of the ecology and guaranteed his own survival
+during the long winter.
+
+Physical survival has been guaranteed. But what about mental survival?
+Primitive Earth Eskimos can fall into a long doze of half-conscious
+hibernation. Civilized men might be able to do this, but only for the
+few cold months of terrestrial mid-winter. It would be impossible to do
+during a winter that is longer than an Earth year. With all the physical
+needs taken care of, boredom became the enemy of any Anvharian who was
+not a hunter. And even the hunters could not stay out on solitary trek
+all winter. Drink was one answer and violence another. Alcoholism and
+murder were the twin terrors of the cold season, after the Breakdown.
+
+It was the Twenties that ended all that. When they became a part of
+normal life the summer was considered just an interlude between games.
+The Twenties were more than just a contest--they became a way of life
+that satisfied all the physical, competitive and intellectual needs of
+this unusual planet. They were a decathlon--rather a doubled
+decathlon--raised to its highest power, where contests in chess and
+poetry composition held equal place with those in ski-jumping and
+archery. Each year there were two planet-wide contests held, one for men
+and one for women. This was not an attempt at sexual discrimination, but
+a logical facing of facts. Inherent differences prevented fair
+contests--for example, it is impossible for a woman to win a large chess
+tournament--and this fact was recognized. Anyone could enter for any
+number of years, there were no scoring handicaps.
+
+When the best man won he was really the best man. A complicated series
+of playoffs and eliminations kept contestants and observers busy for
+half the winter. They were only preliminary to the final encounter that
+lasted a month, and picked a single winner. That was the title he was
+awarded. Winner. The man--and woman--who had bested every other
+contestant on the entire planet and who would remain unchallenged until
+the following year.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Winner. It was a title to take pride in. Brion stirred weakly on his bed
+and managed to turn so he could look out of the window. Winner of
+Anvhar. His name was already slated for the history books, one of the
+handful of planetary heroes. School children would be studying him now,
+just as he had read of the Winners of the past. Weaving daydreams and
+imaginary adventures around Brion's victories, hoping and fighting so
+some day equal them. To be a Winner was the greatest honor in the
+universe.
+
+Outside, the afternoon sun shimmered weakly in a dark sky. The endless
+icefields soaked up the dim light, reflecting it back as a colder and
+harsher illumination. A single figure on skis cut a line across the
+empty plain; nothing else moved. The depression of the ultimate fatigue
+fell on Brion and everything changed, as if he looked in a mirror at a
+previously hidden side.
+
+He saw suddenly--with terrible clarity--that to be a Winner was to be
+absolutely nothing. Like being the best flea, among all the fleas on a
+single dog.
+
+What was Anvhar after all? An ice-locked planet, inhabited by a few
+million human fleas, unknown and unconsidered by the rest of the galaxy.
+There was nothing here worth fighting for, the wars after the Breakdown
+had left them untouched. The Anvharian had always taken pride in
+this--as if being so unimportant that no one else even wanted to come
+near you, could possibly be a source of pride. All the worlds of man
+grew, fought, won, lost, changed. Only on Anvhar did life repeat its
+sameness endlessly, like a loop of tape in a player....
+
+Brion's eyes were moist, he blinked. _Tears!!_ Realization of this
+incredible fact wiped the maudlin pity from his mind and replaced it
+with fear. Had his mind snapped in the strain of the last match? These
+thoughts weren't his. Self-pity hadn't made him a Winner--why was he
+feeling it now? Anvhar was his universe--how could he even imagine it
+as a tag-end planet at the outer limb of creation? What had come over
+him and induced this inverse thinking.
+
+As he thought the question, the answer appeared at the same instant.
+Winner Ihjel. The fat man with the strange pronouncements and probing
+questions. Had he cast a spell like some sorcerer--or the devil in
+"Faust"? No, that was pure nonsense. But he had done something. Perhaps
+planted a suggestion when Brion's resistance was low. Or used subliminal
+vocalization like the villain in "Cerebrus Chained." Brion could find no
+adequate reason on which to base his suspicions. But he knew that Ihjel
+was responsible.
+
+He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow and the repaired
+communicator came to life. The duty nurse appeared in the small screen.
+
+"The man who was here today," Brion said, "Winner Ihjel, do you know
+where he is? I must contact him."
+
+For some reason this flustered her professional calm. The nurse started
+to answer, excused herself, and blanked the screen. When it lit again a
+man in Guard's uniform had taken her place.
+
+"You made an inquiry," the Guard said, "about Winner Ihjel. We are
+holding him here in the hospital following the disgraceful way in which
+he broke into your room."
+
+"I have no charges to make. Will you ask him to come and see me at
+once?"
+
+The Guard controlled his shock. "I'm sorry, Winner--I don't see how we
+can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders that you were not to be--"
+
+"The doctor has no control over my personal life," Brion snapped at him.
+"I'm not infectious, or ill with anything more than extreme fatigue. I
+want to see that man. At once."
+
+The Guard took a deep breath, and made a quick decision. "He is on the
+way up now," he said, and rung off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What did you do to me?" Brion asked as soon as Ihjel had entered and
+they were alone. "You won't deny that you have put alien thoughts in my
+head?"
+
+"No, I won't deny it. Because the whole point of my being here is to get
+those 'alien' thoughts across to you."
+
+"Tell me how you did it," Brion insisted. "I must know."
+
+"I'll tell you--but there are many things you should understand first,
+before you decide to leave Anvhar. You must not only hear them, you will
+have to believe them. The primary thing, the clue to the rest, is the
+true nature of your life here. How do you think the Twenties
+originated?"
+
+Brion carefully took a double dose of the mild stimulant he was allowed
+before he answered. "I don't think," he said, "I know. It's a matter of
+historical record. The founder of the games was Giroldi, the first
+contest was held in 378 A.B. The Twenties have been held every year
+since then. They were strictly local affairs in the beginning, but were
+soon well established on a planet-wide scale."
+
+"True enough," Ihjel said, "but you're describing _what_ happened. I
+asked you _how_ the Twenties originated. How could any single man take a
+barbarian planet, lightly inhabited by half-mad hunters and alcoholic
+farmers, and turn it into a smooth-running social machine built around
+the artificial structure of the Twenties? It just can't be done."
+
+"But it was done!" Brion insisted. "You can't deny that. And there is
+nothing artificial about the Twenties. They are a logical way to live a
+life on a planet like this."
+
+Ihjel had to laugh, a short ironic bark. "Very logical," he said, "but
+how often does logic have anything to do with the organization of social
+groups and governments? You're not thinking. Put yourself in founder
+Giroldi's place. Imagine that you have glimpsed the great idea of the
+Twenties and you want to convince others. So you walk up to the nearest
+louse-ridden, brawling, superstitious, booze-embalmed hunter and explain
+clearly. How a program of his favorite sports--things like poetry,
+archery and chess--can make his life that much more interesting and
+virtuous. You do that. But keep your eyes open and be ready for a fast
+draw."
+
+Even Brion had to smile at the absurdity of the suggestion. Of course it
+couldn't happen that way. Yet, since it had happened, there must be a
+simple explanation.
+
+"We can beat this back and forth all day," Ihjel told him, "and you
+won't get the right idea unless--" He broke off suddenly, staring at the
+communicator. The operation light had come on, though the screen stayed
+dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and pulled loose the recently
+connected wires. "That doctor of yours is very curious--and he's going
+to stay that way. The truth behind the Twenties is none of his business.
+But it's going to be yours. You must come to realize that the life you
+lead here is a complete and artificial construction, developed by
+Societics experts and put into application by skilled field workers."
+
+"Nonsense!" Brion broke in. "Systems of society can't be dreamed up and
+forced on people like that. Not without bloodshed and violence."
+
+"Nonsense, yourself," Ihjel told him. "That may have been true in the
+dawn of history, but not any more. You have been reading too many of the
+old Earth classics, you imagine that we still live in the Ages of
+Superstition. Just because Fascism and Communism were once forced on
+reluctant populations, you think this holds true for all time. Go back
+to your books. In exactly the same era democracy and self-government
+were adapted by former colonial states, like India and the Union of
+North Africa, and the only violence was between local religious groups.
+Change is the lifeblood of mankind. Everything we today accept as normal
+was at one time an innovation. And one of the most recent innovations
+is the attempt to guide the societies of mankind into something more
+consistent with the personal happiness of individuals."
+
+"The God complex," Brion said, "forcing human lives into a mold whether
+they want to be fitted into it or not."
+
+"Societics can be that," Ihjel agreed. "It was in the beginning, and
+there were some disastrous results of attempts to force populations into
+a political climate where they didn't belong. They weren't all
+failures--Anvhar here is a striking example of how good the technique
+can be when correctly applied. It's not done this way anymore, though.
+Like all of the other sciences, we have found out that the more we know,
+the more there is to know. We no longer attempt to guide cultures
+towards what we consider a beneficial goal. There are too many goals,
+and from our limited vantage point it is hard to tell the good ones from
+the bad ones. All we do now is try to protect the growing cultures, give
+a little jolt to the stagnating ones--and bury the dead ones. When the
+work was first done here on Anvhar the theory hadn't progressed that
+far. The understandably complex equations that determine just where in
+the scale from a Type I to a Type V a culture is, had not yet been
+completed. The technique then was to work out an artificial culture that
+would be most beneficial for a planet, then bend it into the mold."
+
+"But how?" Brion asked.
+
+"We've made some progress--you're finally asking 'how'. The technique
+here took a good number of agents, and a great deal of money. Personal
+honor was emphasized in order to encourage dueling, this led to a
+heightened interest in the technique of personal combat. When this was
+well intrenched Giroldi was brought in, and he showed how organized
+competitions could be more interesting than haphazard encounters. Tying
+the intellectual aspects onto the framework of competitive sports was a
+little more difficult, but not overwhelmingly so. The details aren't
+important, all we are considering now is the end product. Which is you.
+You're needed very much."
+
+"Why me?" Brion asked. "Why am I special? Because I won the Twenties? I
+can't believe that. Taken objectively there isn't that much difference
+between myself and the ten runners-up. Why don't you ask one of
+them--they could do your job as well as I."
+
+"No they couldn't. I'll tell you later why you are the only man I can
+use. Our time is running out and I must convince you of some other
+things first." Ihjel glanced at his watch. "We have less than three
+hours to dead-deadline. Before that time I must explain enough of our
+work to you to enable you to decide voluntarily to join us."
+
+"A very tall order," Brion said. "You might begin by telling me just who
+this mysterious 'we' is that you keep referring to."
+
+"The Cultural Relationships Foundation. A nongovernmental body,
+privately endowed, existing to promote peace and ensure the sovereign
+welfare of independent planets, so that all will prosper from the good
+will and commerce thereby engendered."
+
+"Sounds like you're quoting," Brion told him. "No one could possibly
+make up something that sounds like that on the spur of the moment."
+
+"I was quoting from our charter of organization. Which is all very fine
+in a general sense, but I'm talking specifically now. About you. You are
+the product of a tightly knit and very advanced society. Your
+individuality has been encouraged by your growing up in a society so
+small in population that only a mild form of government control is
+necessary. The normal Anvharian education is an excellent one, and
+participation in the Twenties has given you a general and advanced
+education second to none in the galaxy. It would be a complete waste of
+your entire life if you now took all this training and wasted it on some
+rustic farm."
+
+"You give me very little credit. I plan to teach--"
+
+"Forget Anvhar!" Ihjel cut him off with a chop of his hand. "This world
+will roll on quite successfully whether you are here or not. You must
+forget it, think of its relative unimportance on a galactic scale, and
+consider instead the existing, suffering, hordes of mankind. You must
+think what you can do to help them."
+
+"But what can I do--as an individual? The day is long past when a
+single man, like Caesar or Alexander, could bring about world-shaking
+changes."
+
+"True--but not true," Ihjel said. "There are key men in every conflict
+of forces, men who act like catalysts applied at the right instant to
+start a chemical reaction. You might be one of those men, but I must be
+honest and say that I can't prove it yet. So in order to save time and
+endless discussion, I think I will have to spark your personal sense of
+obligation."
+
+"Obligation to whom?"
+
+"To mankind of course, to the countless billions of dead who kept the
+whole machine rolling along that allows you the full, long and happy
+life you enjoy today. What they gave to you, you must pass on to others.
+This is the keystone of humanistic morals."
+
+"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long run. But not one that is
+going to tempt me out of this bed within the next three hours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"A point of success," Ihjel said. "You agree with the general argument.
+Now I apply it specifically to you. Here is the statement I intend to
+prove. There exists a planet with a population of seven million people.
+Unless I can prevent it, this planet will be completely destroyed. It is
+my job to stop that destruction, so that is where I am going now. I
+won't be able to do the job alone. In addition to others I need you. Not
+anyone like you--but you and you alone."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"You have precious little time left to convince me of all that," Brion
+told him, "so let me make the job easier for you. The work you do, this
+planet, the imminent danger of the people there--these are all facts
+that you can undoubtedly supply. I'll take a chance that this whole
+thing is not a colossal bluff and admit that given time, you could
+verify them all. This brings the argument back to me again. How can you
+possibly prove that I am the only person in the galaxy who can help
+you?"
+
+"I can prove it by your singular ability, the thing I came here to
+find."
+
+"What ability? I am different in no way from the other men on my
+planet."
+
+"You're wrong," Ihjel said. "You are the embodied proof of evolution.
+Rare individuals with specific talents occur constantly in any species,
+man included. It has been two generations since an empathetic was last
+born on Anvhar and I have been watching carefully most of that time."
+
+"What in blazes is an empathetic--and how do you recognize it when you
+have found it?" Brion chuckled, this talk was getting preposterous.
+
+"I can recognize one because I'm one myself--there is no other way. As
+to how projective empathy works, you had a demonstration of that a
+little earlier, when you felt those strange thoughts about Anvhar. It
+will be a long time before you can master that, but receptive empathy is
+your natural trait. This is mentally entering into the feeling, or what
+could be called the spirit of another person. Empathy is not thought
+perception, it might better be described as the sensing of someone
+else's emotional makeup, feelings and attitudes. You can't lie to a
+trained empathetic because he can sense the real attitude behind the
+verbal lies. Even your undeveloped talent has proved immensely useful in
+the Twenties. You can outguess your opponent because you know his
+movements even as his body tenses to make them. You accept this without
+ever questioning it."
+
+"How do you know--?" This was Brion's understood, but never voiced
+secret.
+
+Ihjel smiled. "Just guessing. But I won the Twenties too, remember, also
+without knowing a thing about empathy at the time. On top of our normal
+training, it's a wonderful trait to have. Which brings me to the proof
+we mentioned a minute ago. When you said you would be convinced if I
+could prove you were the only person who could help me. I _believe_ you
+are--and that is one thing I cannot lie about. It's possible to lie
+about a belief verbally, to have a falsely based belief, or to change a
+belief. But you can't lie about it to yourself."
+
+"Equally important--you can't lie about a belief to an empathetic. Would
+you like to see how I feel about this? 'See' is a bad word--there is no
+vocabulary for this kind of thing yet. Better, would you join me in my
+feelings? Sense my attitudes, memories and emotions just as I do?"
+
+Brion tried to protest, but he was too late. The doors of his senses
+were pushed wide and he was overwhelmed.
+
+"Dis ..." Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people ... hydrogen bombs ...
+Brion Brandd." These were just key words, land marks of association.
+With each one Brion felt the rushing wave of the other man's emotions.
+
+There could be no lies here, Ihjel was right in that. This was the raw
+stuff that feelings are made of, the basic reactions to the things and
+symbols of memory.
+
+DIS ... DIS ... DIS ... it was a word it was a planet and the word
+thundered like a drum a drum the sound of its thunder surrounded and was
+
+            a wasteland a planet
+          of death a planet where
+            living was dying and
+              dying was very
+                better than
+                  living
+    crude barbaric
+        backward miserable
+          dirty beneath
+            consideration
+              planet
+                #DIS#
+            hot burning scorching
+          wasteland of sands
+        and sands and sands and
+      sands that burned had burned
+    will burn forever
+
+    the people of this planet so
+        crude dirty miserable barbaric
+          subhuman in-human less-than-human
+    but
+      they
+        were
+          going
+            to
+              be
+                DEAD
+    and DEAD they would be seven million
+        blackened corpses that
+        would blacken your dreams
+            all dreams dreams
+            forever because those
+              HYDROGEN BOMBS
+                were waiting
+                  to kill
+    them unless ... unless ... unless ...
+    you Ihjel stopped it you Ihjel
+    (DEATH) ... you (DEATH) ...
+        you (DEATH) alone couldn't do
+            it you (DEATH)
+                must have
+
+BRION BRANDD wet-behind-the-ears-raw-untrained-Brion-Brand-to help-you
+he was the only one in the galaxy who could finish the job....
+
+As the flow of sensation died away, Brion realized he was sprawled back
+weakly on his pillows, soaked with sweat, washed with the memory of the
+raw emotion. Across from him Ihjel sat with his face bowed into his
+hands. When he lifted his head Brion saw within his eyes a shadow of the
+blackness he had just experienced.
+
+"Death," Brion said. "That terrible feeling of death. It wasn't just the
+people of Dis who would die. It was something more personal."
+
+"Myself," Ihjel said, and behind this simple word were the repeated
+echoes of night that Brion had been made aware of with his newly
+recognized ability. "My own death, not too far away. This is the
+wonderfully terrible price you must pay for your talent. _Angst_ is an
+inescapable part of empathy. It is a part of the whole unknown field of
+psi phenomena that seems to be independent of time. Death is so
+traumatic and final that it reverberates back along the time line. The
+closer I get, the more aware of it I am. There is no exact feeling of
+date, just a rough location in time. That is the horror of it. I _know_
+I will die soon after I get to Dis--and long before the work there is
+finished. I know the job to be done there, and I know the men who have
+already failed at it. I also know you are the only person who can
+possibly complete the work I have started. Do you agree now? Will you
+come with me?"
+
+"Yes, of course," Brion said. "I'll go with you."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+"I've never seen anyone quite as angry as that doctor," Brion said.
+
+"Can't blame him," Ihjel shifted his immense weight and grunted from the
+console, where he was having a coded conversation with the ship's brain.
+He hit the keys quickly, and read the answer from the screen. "You took
+away his medical moment of glory. How many times in his life will he
+have a chance to nurse back to rugged smiling health the triumphantly
+exhausted Winner of the Twenties?"
+
+"Not many, I imagine. The wonder of it is how you managed to convince
+him that you and the ship here could take care of me as well as his
+hospital."
+
+"I could never convince him of that," Ihjel said. "But I and the
+Cultural Relationships Foundation have some powerful friends on Anvhar.
+I'm forced to admit I brought a little pressure to bear." He leaned back
+and read the course tape as it streamed out of the printer. "We have a
+little time to spare, but I would rather spend it waiting at the other
+end. We'll blast as soon as I have you tied down in a stasis field."
+
+The completeness of the stasis field leaves no impression on the body or
+mind. In it there is no weight, no pressure, no pain--no sensation of
+any kind. Except for a stasis of very long duration, there is no
+sensation of time. To Brion's consciousness, Ihjel flipped the switch
+off with a continuation of the same motion that had turned it on. The
+ship was unchanged, only outside of the port was the red-shot blankness
+of jump space.
+
+"How do you feel?" Ihjel asked.
+
+Apparently the ship was wondering the same thing. Its detector unit,
+hovering impatiently just outside of Brion's stasis field, darted down
+and settled on his forearm. The doctor back on Anvhar had given the
+medical section of the ship's brain a complete briefing. A quick check
+of a dozen factors of Brion's metabolism was compared to the expected
+norm. Apparently everything was going well, because the only reaction
+was the expected injection of vitamins and glucose.
+
+"Can't say I'm feeling wonderful yet," Brion answered, levering himself
+higher on the pillows. "But every day it's a bit better, steady
+progress."
+
+"I hope so, because we have about two weeks before we get to Dis. Think
+you'll be back in shape by that time?"
+
+"No promises," Brion said, giving a tentative squeeze to one bicep. "It
+should be enough time, though. Tomorrow I start mild exercise and that
+will tighten me up again. Now--tell me more about Dis and what you have
+to do there."
+
+"I'm not going to do it twice, so just save your curiosity a while.
+We're heading for a rendezvous-point now to pick up another operator.
+This is going to be a three-man team, you, me and an exobiologist. As
+soon as he is aboard I'll do a complete briefing for you both at the
+same time. What you can do now is get your head into the language box
+and start working on your Disan. You'll want to speak it perfectly by
+the time we touch down."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With an autohypno for complete recall, Brion had no difficulty in
+mastering the grammar and vocabulary of Disan. Pronunciation was a
+different matter altogether. Almost all the word endings were swallowed,
+muffled or gargled. The language was rich in glottal stops, clicks and
+guttural strangling sounds. Ihjel stayed in a different part of the
+ship, when Brion used the voice mirror and analysis scope, claiming that
+the awful noises interfered with his digestion.
+
+Their ship angled through jump-space along its calculated course. It
+kept its fragile human cargo warm, fed them and supplied breathable air.
+It had orders to worry about Brion's health, so it did, checking
+constantly against its recorded instructions and noting his steady
+progress. Another part of the ship's brain counted microseconds with
+moronic fixation, finally closing a relay when a predetermined number
+had expired in its heart. A light flashed and a buzzer hummed gently but
+insistently.
+
+Ihjel yawned, put away the report he had been reading, and started for
+the control room. He shuddered when he passed the room where Brion was
+listening to a playback of his Disan efforts.
+
+"Turn off that dying brontosaurus and get strapped in," he called
+through the thin door. "We're coming to the point of optimum possibility
+and we'll be dropping back into normal space soon."
+
+The human mind can ponder the incredible distances between the stars,
+but cannot possibly contain within itself a real understanding of them.
+Marked out on a man's hand an inch is a large unit of measure. In
+interstellar space a cubical area with sides a hundred-thousand miles
+long is a microscopically fine division. Light crosses this distance in
+a fraction of a second. To a ship moving with a relative speed far
+greater than that of light, this measuring unit is even smaller.
+Theoretically it appears impossible to find a particular area of this
+size. Technologically it was a repeatable miracle that occurred too
+often to even be interesting.
+
+Brion and Ihjel were strapped in when the jump-drive cut off abruptly,
+lurching them back into normal space and time. They didn't unstrap, just
+sat and looked at the dimly distant pattern of stars. A single sun, of
+apparent fifth magnitude was their only neighbor in this lost corner of
+the universe. They waited while the computer took enough star sights to
+triangulate a position in three dimensions, muttering to itself
+electronically while it did the countless calculations to find their
+position. A warning bell chimed and the drive cut on and off so quickly
+the two acts seemed simultaneous. This happened again, twice, before the
+brain was satisfied it had made as good a fix as possible and flashed a
+NAVIGATION POWER OFF light. Ihjel unstrapped, stretched and made them a
+meal.
+
+Ihjel had computed their passage time with criminally precise
+allowances. Less than ten hours after they arrived a powerful signal
+blasted into their waiting receiver. They strapped in again as the
+NAVIGATION POWER ON signal blinked insistently.
+
+A ship had paused in flight somewhere relatively near in the vast volume
+of space. It had entered normal space just long enough to emit a signal
+of radio query on an assigned wave length. Ihjel's ship had detected
+this and instantly responded with a verifying signal. The passenger
+spacer had accepted this assurance and gracefully laid a ten-foot metal
+egg in space. As soon as this had cleared its jump field the parent ship
+vanished towards its destination, light-years away.
+
+Ihjel's ship climbed up the signal it had received. This signal had been
+recorded and examined minutely. Angle, strength and Doppler movement
+were computed to find course and distance. A few minutes of flight were
+enough to get within range of the far weaker transmitter in the
+dropcapsule. Homing on this signal was so simple, a human pilot could
+have done it himself. The shining sphere loomed up, then vanished out of
+sight of the viewports as the ship rotated to bring the space lock into
+line. Magnetic clamps cut in when they made contact.
+
+"Go down and let the bug-doctor in," Ihjel said. "I'll stay and monitor
+the board in case of trouble."
+
+"What do I have to do?"
+
+"Get into a suit and open the outer lock. Most of the drop sphere is
+made of inflatable metallic foil so don't bother to look for the
+entrance. Just cut a hole in it with the oversize can opener you'll find
+in the tool box. After Dr. Morees gets aboard jettison the thing. Only
+get the radio and locator unit out first--it gets used again."
+
+The tool did look like a giant opener. Brion carefully felt the
+resilient metal skin that covered the lock entrance, until he was sure
+there was nothing on the other side. Then he jabbed the point through
+and cut a ragged hole in the thin foil. Dr. Morees boiled out of the
+sphere, knocking Brion aside.
+
+"What's the matter?" Brion asked.
+
+There was no radio on the other's suit, he couldn't answer. But he did
+shake his fist angrily. The helmet ports were opaqued so there was no
+way to tell what expression went with the gesture. Brion shrugged and
+turned back to salvaging the equipment pack, pushing the punctured
+balloon free and sealing the lock. When pressure was pumped back to
+ship-normal he cracked his helmet and motioned the other to do the same.
+
+"You're a pack of dirty lying dogs!" Dr. Morees said when the helmet
+came off. Brion was completely baffled. Dr. Lea Morees had long dark
+hair, large eyes and a delicately shaped mouth now taut with anger. Dr.
+Morees was a woman.
+
+"Are you the filthy swine responsible for this atrocity?" Lea asked
+menacingly.
+
+"In the control room," Brion said quickly, knowing when cowardice was
+much preferable to valor. "A man named Ihjel. There's a lot of him to
+hate, you can have a good time doing it. I just joined up myself--" He
+was talking to her back as she stormed from the room. Brion hurried
+after her, not wanting to miss the first human spark of interest in the
+trip to date.
+
+"Kidnaped! Lied to and forced against my will! There is no court in the
+galaxy that won't give you the maximum sentence and I'll scream with
+pleasure as they roll your fat body into solitary--"
+
+"They shouldn't have sent a woman," Ihjel said, completely ignoring her
+words. "I asked for a highly-qualified exobiologist for a difficult
+assignment. Someone young and tough enough to do field work under severe
+conditions. So the recruiting office sends me the smallest female they
+can find, one who'll melt in the first rain."
+
+"I will not!" Lea shouted. "Female resiliency is a well known fact and
+I'm in far better condition than the average woman. Which has nothing to
+do with what I'm telling you. I was hired for a job in the university on
+Moller's World and signed a contract to that effect. Then this bully of
+an agent tells me the contract has been changed, read sub paragraph
+189-C or some such nonsense, and I'll be transshipping. He stuffed me
+into that suffocation basketball without a by-your-leave and they threw
+me overboard. If that is not a violation of personal privacy--"
+
+"Cut a new course, Brion," Ihjel broke in. "Find the nearest settled
+planet and head us there. We have to drop this woman and find a man for
+this job. We are going to what is undoubtedly the most interesting
+planet an exobiologist ever conceived of, but we need a man who can take
+orders and not faint when it gets too hot."
+
+Brion was lost. Ihjel had done all the navigating and Brion had no idea
+how to begin a search like this.
+
+"Oh no you don't," Lea said. "You don't get rid of me that easily. I
+placed first in my class and most of the five-hundred other students
+were male. This is only a man's universe because the men say so. What is
+the name of this garden planet where we are going?"
+
+"Dis. I'll give you a briefing as soon as I get this ship on course." He
+turned to the controls and Lea slipped out of her suit and went into the
+lavatory to comb her hair. Brion closed his mouth, aware suddenly it had
+been open for a long time. "Is that what you call applied psychology?"
+he asked.
+
+"Not really. She was going to go along with the job in the end--since
+she did sign the contract even if she didn't read the fine print--but
+not until she had exhausted her feelings. I just shortened the process
+by switching her onto the male-superiority hate. Most women, who succeed
+in normally masculine fields, have a reflexive antipathy there, they
+have been hit on the head with it so much." He fed the course tape into
+the console and scowled. "But there was a good chunk of truth in what I
+said. I wanted a young, fit and highly qualified biologist from
+recruiting. I never thought they would find a female one. And it's too
+late to send her back now. Dis is no place for a woman."
+
+"Why?" Brion asked, as Lea appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Come inside, and I'll show you both," Ihjel said.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Dis," Ihjel said, consulting a thick file. "Third planet out from its
+primary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth planet is Nyjord--remember that
+because it is going to be very important. Dis is a place you need a good
+reason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot, too dry, the
+temperature in the temperate zones rarely drops below a hundred
+Fahrenheit. The planet is nothing but scorched rock and burning sand.
+Most of the water is underground and normally inaccessible. The surface
+water is all in the form of briny, chemically saturated swamps.
+Undrinkable without extensive processing. All the facts and figures are
+here in the folders and you can study them later. Right now I want you
+just to get the idea that this planet is as loathsome and inhospitable
+as they come. So are the people. This is a solido of a Disan."
+
+Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation on the screen. Not at
+the physical aspects of the man, as the biologist trained in the
+specialty of alien life she had seen a lot stranger sights. It was the
+man's pose, the expression on his face. Tensed to leap, his lips drawn
+back to show all of his teeth.
+
+"He looks like he wanted to kill the photographer," she said.
+
+"He almost did--just after the picture was taken. Like all Disans he
+has an overwhelming hatred and loathing of offworlders. Not without good
+reason though. His planet was settled completely by chance during the
+Breakdown. I'm not sure of the details, but the overall picture is
+clear, since the story of their desertion forms the basis of all the
+myths and animistic religions on Dis."
+
+"Apparently there were large scale mining operations carried on there
+once, the world is rich enough in minerals and mining it is very
+simple." But water came only from expensive extraction processes and I
+imagine most of the food came from offworld. Which was good enough until
+the settlement was forgotten, the way a lot of other planets were during
+the Breakdown. All the records were destroyed in the fighting and the
+ore carriers pressed into military service. Dis was on its own. What
+happened to the people there is a tribute to the adaptation
+possibilities of Homo sapiens. Individuals died, usually in enormous
+pain, but the race lived. Changed a good deal, but still human.
+
+"As the water and food ran out and the extraction machinery broke down,
+they must have made heroic efforts to survive. They didn't do it
+mechanically, but by the time the last machine collapsed, enough people
+were adjusted to the environment to keep the race going. Their
+(Their? n. of transc.) descendants are still there, completely adapted
+to the environment. Their body temperatures are around one hundred and
+thirty degrees. They have specialized tissue in the gluteal area for
+storing water. These are minor changes compared to the major ones they
+have done in fitting themselves for this planet.
+
+"I'm not sure of the exact details, but the reports are very
+enthusiastic about symbiotic relationships. They assure us that this is
+the first time Homo sapiens has been an active part of either
+commensalism or inquilinism other than in the role of host."
+
+"Wonderful!" Lea enthused.
+
+"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract scientific point of
+view. If you can keep notes, perhaps you might write a book about it
+some time. But I'm not interested. I'm sure all these morphological
+changes and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you, Dr. Morees. But
+while you are counting blood types and admiring your thermometers, I
+hope you will be able to devote a little time to a study of the Disans'
+obnoxious personalities. We must either find out what makes these people
+tick--or we are going to have to stand by and watch the whole lot blown
+up!"
+
+"Going to do what?" Lea gasped. "Destroy them? Wipe out this fascinating
+genetic pool? Why?"
+
+"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's why!" Ihjel said.
+"These aboriginal hotheads have managed to lay their hands on some
+primitive cobalt bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop these bombs
+on Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or done can convince them
+differently. They demand unconditional surrender or else. This is
+impossible for a lot of reasons--most important because the Nyjorders
+would like to keep their planet for their very own. They have tried
+every kind of compromise but none of them work. The Disans are out to
+commit racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now over Dis and the deadline
+has almost expired for the surrender of the cobalt bombs. The Nyjord
+ships carry enough H-bombs to turn the entire planet into an atomic
+pile. That is what we must stop."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make some judgment
+of the man. Bare, horny feet--a bulky, ragged length of cloth around the
+waist was the only garment. What looked like a piece of green vine was
+hooked over one shoulder. From a plaited belt were suspended a number
+of odd devices made of hand-beaten metal, drilled stone and looped
+leather. The only recognizable one was a thin knife of unusual design.
+Loops of piping, flared bells, carved stones tied in senseless patterns
+of thonging gave the rest of the collection a bizarre appearance.
+Perhaps they had some religious significance. But the well-worn and
+handled look of most of them gave Brion an uneasy sensation. If they
+were used--what in the universe could they be used _for_?
+
+"I can't believe it," he finally concluded. "Except for the exotic
+hardware, this lowbrow looks like he has sunk back into the stone age. I
+don't see how his kind can be of any real threat to another planet."
+
+"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough for me," Ihjel said.
+"They are paying our Cultural Relationships Foundation a good sum to try
+and prevent this war. Since they are our employers, we must do what they
+ask." Brion ignored this large lie, since it was obviously designed as
+an explanation for Lea. But he made an mental note to query Ihjel later
+about the real situation.
+
+"Here are the tech reports." Ihjel dropped them on the table. "Dis has
+some spacers as well as the cobalt bombs--though these are the real
+threat. A tramp trader was picked up _leaving_ Dis. It had delivered a
+jump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on Nyjord while anchored
+to the bedrock of Dis. While essentially a peaceful and happy people the
+Nyjorders were justifiably annoyed at this and convinced the tramp's
+captain to give them some more information. It's all here. Boiled down
+it gives a minimum deadline by which time the launcher can be set up and
+start throwing bombs."
+
+"When is that deadline?" Lea asked.
+
+"In ten days. If the situation hasn't been changed drastically by then
+the Nyjorders are going to wipe all life from the face of Dis. I assure
+you they don't want to do it. But they will drop the bombs in order to
+assure their own survival."
+
+"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, annoyedly flipping the pages of
+the report. "I don't know a thing about nucleonics or jump-space. I'm an
+exobiologist with a supplementary degree in anthropology. What help
+could I possibly be?"
+
+Ihjel looked down at her, fondling his jaw, fingers sunk deep into the
+rolls of flesh. "My faith in our recruiters is restored," he said.
+"That's a combination that is probably rare--even on Earth. You're as
+scrawny as an underfed chicken but young enough to survive if we keep a
+close eye on you." He cut off Lea's angry protest with a raised hand.
+"No more bickering. There isn't time. The Nyjorders must have lost over
+thirty agents trying to find the bombs. Our Foundation has had six
+people killed--including my late predecessor in charge of the project.
+He was a good man, but I think he went at this problem the wrong way. I
+think it is a cultural one, not a physical one."
+
+"Run it through again with the power turned up," Lea said frowning. "All
+I hear is static."
+
+"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and the falling apple,
+Levy and the hysteresis in the warp field. Everything has a beginning.
+If we can find out why these people are so hell-bent on suicide, we
+might be able to change the reasons. Not that I intend to stop looking
+for the bombs or the jump-space generator either. We are going to try
+anything that will avert this planetary murder."
+
+"You're a lot brighter than you look," Lea said, rising and carefully
+stacking the sheets of the report. "You can count on me for complete
+co-operation. Now I'll study all this in bed if one of you overweight
+gentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lock on the inside of the
+door. Don't call me, I'll call you when I want breakfast."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech was humor and how much
+serious, so he said nothing. He showed her to an empty cabin--she did
+lock the door--then looked for Ihjel. The Winner was in the galley
+adding to his girth with an immense gelatin dessert that filled a
+good-sized tureen.
+
+"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked. "The top of her head is
+below my chin."
+
+"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired genes. Weak backs,
+vermiform appendixes, bad eyes. If they didn't have the universities and
+the trained people we need, I would never use them."
+
+"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"
+
+"Because it's a secret--isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbled
+angrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eat something.
+Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain its undercover
+status if it is going to accomplish anything. If she returns to Earth
+after this, it's better that she should know nothing of our real work.
+If she joins up, there'll be time enough to tell her. But I doubt if she
+will like the way we operate. Particularly since I plan to drop some
+H-bombs on Dis myself--if we can't turn off the war."
+
+"I don't believe it!"
+
+"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes and look moronic. As a
+last resort I'll drop the bombs myself, rather than let the Nyjorders do
+it. That might save them."
+
+"Save them--they'd all be radiated and dead!" Brion's voice was raised
+in anger.
+
+"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop clenching your fists
+and sit down and have some of this cake. It's delicious. The Nyjorders
+are all that counts here. They have a planet blessed by the laws of
+chance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact the survivors turned
+into a gang of swamp-crawling homicidals. It did the opposite for
+Nyjord. You can survive there just by pulling fruit off a tree."
+
+"The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead of sinking
+into an eternal siesta they matured into a vitally different society.
+Not mechanical--they weren't even using the wheel when they were
+rediscovered. They became sort of cultural specialists, digging deep
+into the philosophical aspects of interrelationship. The thing that
+machine societies never have had time for. Of course this was ready made
+for the Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we have been working
+with them ever since. Not guiding so much as protecting them from any
+blows that might destroy this growing idea. But we've fallen down on the
+job."
+
+"Nonviolence is essential to those people--they have vitality without
+needing destruction. But if they are forced to blow up Dis for their own
+survival--against every one of their basic tenets--their philosophy
+won't endure. Physically they'll live on. As just one more dog-eat-dog
+planet with an A-bomb for any of the competition who drop behind."
+
+"Sounds like paradise now."
+
+"Don't be smug. It's just another world full of people with the same old
+likes, dislikes and hatreds. But they are evolving a way of living
+together, without violence, that may some day form the key to mankind's
+survival. They are worth looking after. Now get below and study your
+Disan and read the reports. Get it all pat before we land."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+"Identify yourself, please." The quiet words from the speaker in no way
+appeared to coincide with the picture on the screen. The spacer that had
+matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a freighter. A quick
+conversion had tacked the hulking shape of a primary weapons turret on
+top of her hull. The black disk of the immense muzzle pointing squarely
+at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-ship communication channel.
+
+"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-Bj4-67--which is also the code that
+is supposed to get me through your blockade. Do you want to check that
+pattern?"
+
+"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn on your recorder, I
+have a message relayed to you from Prime-four."
+
+"Recording and out," Ihjel said "Damn! Trouble already and four days to
+blowup. Prime-four is our headquarters on Dis. This ship carries a cover
+cargo so we can land at the spaceport. This is probably a change of plan
+and I don't like the smell of it."
+
+There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this time, and without
+conscious effort Brion could sense the chilling touch of the other man's
+_angst_. Trouble was waiting for them on the planet below. When the
+message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it, reading each
+word as it appeared on the paper. He only snorted when it was finished
+and went below to the galley. Brion pulled the message out of the
+machine and read it.
+
+    IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING DANGER NIGHT LANDING PREFERABLE
+    CO-ORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75 REMOTE YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END
+    END
+
+Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done on instruments
+and the Disans were thought to have no detection apparatus. The
+altimeter dials spun backwards to zero and a soft vibration was the
+only indication they had landed. All of the cabin lights were off
+except for the fluorescent glow of the instruments. A white-speckled
+gray filled the infrared screen, radiation from the still-warm sand and
+stone. There were no moving blips on it, nor the characteristic shape of
+a shielded atomic generator.
+
+"We're here first," Ihjel said, opaquing the ports and turning on the
+cabin lights. They blinked at each other, faces damp with perspiration.
+
+"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked, patting her forehead with
+an already sodden kerchief. Stripped of her heavier clothing she looked
+even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic--reaching barely halfway
+to her knees--concealed very little. Small she may have appeared to
+him--unfeminine she was not. In fact she was quite attractive.
+
+"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back, too?" she asked
+Brion. Five days' experience had taught him that this type of remark was
+best ignored. It only became worse if he tried to answer.
+
+"Dis is hotter than this cabin," he said, changing the subject. "By
+raising the interior temperature we can at least prevent any sudden
+shock when we go out--"
+
+"I know the theory--but it doesn't stop me from sweating," she snapped.
+
+"Best thing you can do is sweat," Ihjel said. He looked like a
+glistening captive balloon in shorts. Finishing a bottle of beer he took
+another from the freezer. "Have a beer."
+
+"No thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the last shreds of tissue
+and my kidneys would float completely away. On Earth we never--"
+
+"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her," Ihjel said. "Vion's coming,
+there's his signal. I'm sending this ship up before any of the locals
+spot it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he cracked the outer port the puff of air struck them like the
+exhaust from a furnace. Dry and hot as a tongue of flame. Brion heard
+Lea's gasp in the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and he followed
+her slowly, careful of the weight of packs and equipment he carried. The
+sand burned through his boots, still hot from the day. Ihjel came last,
+the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon as they were clear he
+activated it and the ramp slipped back like a giant tongue. As soon as
+the lock had swung shut the ship lifted and drifted upwards silently
+towards its orbit, a shrinking darkness against the stars.
+
+There was just enough starlight to see the sandy wastes around them, as
+wave-filled as a petrified sea. The dark shape of a sandcar drew up
+over a dune and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjel stepped
+towards it and everything happened at once.
+
+Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame, his skin blackening,
+charred, dead in an instant. A second pillar of flame bloomed next to
+the car and a choking scream, cut off even as it began. Ihjel died
+silently.
+
+Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges still crackled in the
+air. The boxes and packs dropped from him and he slammed against Lea,
+knocking her to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to stay there and
+be quiet. This was his only conscious thought, the rest was reflex.
+Rolling over and over as fast as he could.
+
+The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing over the bundles of
+luggage he had dropped. This time Brion was expecting it, pressed flat
+to the ground a short distance away. He was facing the darkness away
+from the sandcar and saw the brief, blue glow of the ion-rifle
+discharge. His own gun was in his hand. When Ihjel had given him the
+missile weapon he had asked no questions, just strapped it on. There had
+been no thought that he would need it this quickly. Holding it firmly
+before him in both hands he let his body aim at the spot where the glow
+had been. A whiplash of explosive slugs ripped the night air. They found
+their target and something thrashed voicelessly and died.
+
+In the brief instant after he fired a jarring weight landed on his back
+and a line of fire circled his throat. Normally he fought with a calm
+mind, with no thoughts other than the contest. But Ihjel, a friend, a
+man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds earlier and Brion found himself
+welcoming this physical violence and pain.
+
+There are many foolish and dangerous things that can be done, such as
+smoking next to high octane fuel and putting fingers into electrical
+sockets. Just as dangerous, and equally deadly, is physically attacking
+a Winner of the Twenties.
+
+Two men hit Brion together, though this made very little difference. The
+first died suddenly as hands like steel claws found his neck and in a
+single spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large blood vessels
+there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages filled his brain. The second
+man had time for a single scream, though he died just as swiftly when
+those hands closed on his larynx.
+
+Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles, Brion swiftly made a
+circle of the area, gun ready. There were no others. Only when he
+touched the softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep from him. He
+was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue, the sweat soaking his body
+and the breath rasping in his throat. Holstering the gun he ran light
+fingers over her skull, finding a bruised spot on one temple. Her chest
+was rising and falling regularly. She had struck her head when he pushed
+her. It had undoubtedly saved her life.
+
+Sitting down suddenly he let his body relax, breathing deeply.
+Everything was a little better now, except for the pain at his throat.
+His fingers found a thin strand on the side of his neck with a knobby
+weight on the end. There was another weight on his other shoulder and a
+thin line of pain across his neck. When he pulled on them both the
+strangler's cord came away in his hand. It was thin fiber, strong as a
+wire. When it had been pulled around his neck it had sliced the surface
+skin and flesh like a knife, halted only by the corded bands of muscle
+below. Brion threw it from him, into the darkness where it had come
+from.
+
+He could think again and he carefully kept his thoughts from the men he
+had killed. Knowing it was useless he went to Ihjel's body. A single
+touch of the scorched flesh was enough.
+
+Behind him Lea moaned with returning consciousness and he hurried on to
+the sandcar, stepping over the charred body outside the door. The
+driver was slumped, dead, killed perhaps by the same strangling cord
+that had sunk into Brion's throat. He laid the man gently on the sand
+and closed the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was a
+canteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"My head--I've hurt my head," Lea said groggily.
+
+"Just a bruise," he reassured her. "Drink some of this water and you'll
+soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's over for the moment and you can
+rest."
+
+"Ihjel's dead!" she said with sudden shocked memory. "They've killed
+him! What's happened?" She tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed her
+back gently.
+
+"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up yet. There was an
+ambush and they killed Vion and the driver of the sandcar, as well as
+Ihjel. Three men did it and they're all dead now, too. I don't think
+there are any more around, but if there are I'll hear them coming. We're
+just going to wait a few minutes until you feel better then we're
+getting out of here in the car."
+
+"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin edge of hysteria in her voice.
+"We can't stay here alone. We don't know where to go or what to do. With
+Ihjel dead the whole thing's spoiled. We have to get out--"
+
+There are some things that can't sound gentle, no matter how gently they
+are said. This was one of them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the ship is out of
+our reach right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun and it fused the
+control unit into a solid lump. We must take the car and get to the
+city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up--I'll help you."
+
+She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the car a
+single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its light Brion
+saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sandcar. He stopped
+abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked.
+
+The unlocked engine cover could have only one significance and he pushed
+it open knowing in advance what he would see. The attackers had been
+very thorough and fast. In the short time available to them they had
+killed the driver and the car as well. Ruddy light shone on torn wires,
+ripped out connections. Repair would be impossible.
+
+"I think we'll have to walk," he told her, trying to keep the gloom out
+of his voice. "This spot is roughly a hundred and fifty meters from the
+city of Hovedstad, where we have to go. We should be able to--"
+
+"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This whole planet is a
+death trap. Let's get back in the ship!" There was a thin shrillness of
+hysteria at the edge of her voice, as well as a subtle slurring of the
+sounds.
+
+Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to explain. She had a
+concussion from the blow, that much was obvious. He made her sit and
+rest while he made what preparations he could for the long walk.
+
+Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert air was growing
+colder as the day's heat ebbed away. Lea was beginning to shiver and he
+took some heavier clothing from her charred bag and made her pull it on
+over her light tunic. There was little else that was worth carrying. The
+canteen from the car and a first-aid kit he found in one of the
+compartments. There were no maps or radio. Navigation was obviously done
+by compass on this almost-featureless desert. The car was equipped with
+an electrically operated gyro-compass, of no possible use to him. He did
+use it to check the direction to Hovedstad, as he remembered it from the
+map, and found it lined up perfectly with the tracks the car had cut
+into the sand. It had come directly from the city. They could find their
+way by back-tracking.
+
+Time was slipping away. He would like to have buried Ihjel and the men
+from the car, but the night hours were too valuable to be wasted. The
+best he could do was put the three corpses in the car, for protection
+from the Disan animals. Locking the door he threw the key as far as he
+could in the blackness. Lea had slipped into a restless sleep and he
+carefully shook her awake.
+
+"Come," Brion said, "we have a little walking to do."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+With the cool air and firmly packed sand under foot walking should have
+been easy. Lea spoiled that. The concussion seemed to have temporarily
+cut off the reasoning part of her brain leaving a direct connection to
+her vocal cords. As she stumbled along, only half conscious, she mumbled
+all of her darkest fears that were better left unvoiced. Occasionally
+there was relevancy in her complaints. They would lose their way, never
+find the city, die of thirst, freezing, heat or hunger. Interspersed and
+entwined with these were fears from her past that still floated,
+submerged in the timeless ocean of her subconscious. Some Brion could
+understand, though he tried not to listen. Fears of losing credits, not
+getting the highest grade, falling behind, a woman alone in a world of
+men, leaving school, being lost, trampled among the nameless hordes that
+struggled for survival in the crowded city-states of Earth.
+
+There were other things she was afraid of that made no sense to a man
+of Anvhar. Who were the alkians that seemed to trouble her? Or what was
+canceri? Daydle and haydle? Who was Mansean whose name kept coming up,
+over and over, each time accompanied by a little moan?
+
+Brion stopped and picked her up in both arms. With a sigh she settled
+against the hard width of his chest and was instantly asleep. Even with
+the additional weight he made better time now, and he stretched to his
+fastest, kilometer-consuming stride to make good use of these best
+hours.
+
+Somewhere on a stretch of gravel and shelving rock he lost the track of
+the sandcar. He wasted no time looking for it. By carefully watching
+the glistening stars rise and set he had made a good estimate of the
+geographic north. Dis didn't seem to have a pole star, however a boxlike
+constellation turned slowly around the invisible point of the pole.
+Keeping this positioned in line with his right shoulder guided him on
+the westerly course he needed.
+
+When his arms began to grow tired he lowered Lea gently to the ground,
+she didn't wake. Stretching for an instant, before taking up his burden
+again, Brion was struck by the terrible loneliness of the desert. His
+breath made a vanishing mist against the stars, all else was darkness
+and silence. How distant he was from his home, his people, his planet.
+Even the constellations of the night sky were different. He was used to
+solitude, but this was a loneliness that touched some deep-buried
+instinct. A shiver that wasn't from the desert cold touched lightly
+along his spine, prickling at the hairs on his neck.
+
+It was time to go on. He shrugged the disquieting sensations off and
+carefully tied Lea into the jacket he had been wearing. Slung like a
+pack on his back it made walking easier. The gravel gave way to sliding
+dunes of sand that seemed to continue to infinity. A painful, slipping
+climb to the top of each one, then and equally difficult descent to the
+black-pooled hollow at the foot of the next.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+With the first lightening of the sky in the east he stopped, breath
+rasping in his chest, to mark his direction before the stars faded. One
+line scratched in the sand pointed due north, a second pointed out the
+course they should follow. When they were aligned to his satisfaction he
+washed his mouth out with a single swallow of water and sat on the sand
+next to the still form of the girl.
+
+Gold fingers of fire searched across the sky, wiping out the stars. It
+was magnificent, Brion forgot his fatigue in appreciation. There should
+be some way of preserving it. A quatrain would be best. Short enough to
+be remembered, yet requiring attention and skill to compact everything
+into it. He had scored high with his quatrains in the Twenties. This
+would be a special one. Taind, his poetry mentor would have to get a
+copy.
+
+"What are you mumbling about?" Lea asked, looking up at the craggy
+blackness of his profile against the reddening sky.
+
+"Poem," he said. "_Shhh._ Just a minute."
+
+It was too much for Lea, coming after the tension and dangers of the
+night. She began to laugh, laughing even harder when he scowled at her
+angrily. Only when she heard the tinge of growing hysteria did she make
+an attempt to break off the laughter. The sun cleared the horizon,
+washing a sudden warmth over them. Lea gasped.
+
+"Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!"
+
+"Not really," he said, touching his fingertips lightly against the
+blood-clotted wound that circled his neck. "Just superficial."
+
+Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered the battle and death of
+the previous night. Lea didn't notice his face. She was busy digging in
+the pack he had thrown down. He had to use his fingers to massage and
+force away the grimace of pain that twisted his mouth. Memory was more
+painful than the wound. How easily he had killed. Three men. How close
+to the surface of the civilized man the animal dwelled. In the countless
+matches he had used those holds, always drawing back from the exertion
+of the full killing power. They were part of a game, part of the
+Twenties. Yet when his friend had been killed he had become a killer
+himself. He believed in nonviolence and the sanctity of life. Until the
+first test when he had killed without hesitation. More ironic was the
+fact he really felt no guilt. Shock at the change, yes. But no more than
+that.
+
+"Lift your chin," Lea said, brandishing the antiseptic applier she had
+found in the medicine kit. He lifted obligingly and the liquid drew a
+cool, burning line across his neck. Antibio pills would do a lot more
+good, since the wound was completely clotted by now, but he didn't speak
+his thoughts aloud. For the moment Lea had forgotten herself in taking
+care of him. He put some of the antiseptic on her scalp bruise and she
+squeaked, pulling back. They both swallowed the pills.
+
+"That sun is hot already," Lea grumbled, peeling off her heavy clothing.
+"Let's find a nice cool cave to crawl into for the day."
+
+"I don't think there are any here, just sand. We have to walk--"
+
+"I know we have to walk," she interrupted angrily. "There's no need for
+a lecture about it. You're as seriously cubical as the Bank of Terra.
+Relax. Take ten and start again." Lea was making empty talk while she
+listened to the memory of hysteria tittering at the fringes of her
+brain.
+
+"No time for that. We have to keep going." Brion climbed slowly to his
+feet after stowing everything in the pack. When he sighted along his
+marker at the western horizon he saw nothing to mark their course, only
+the marching dunes. He helped Lea to her feet and began walking slowly
+towards them.
+
+"Just hold on a second," Lea called after him. "Where do you think
+you're going?"
+
+"In that direction," he said pointing. "I hoped there would be some
+landmarks. There aren't. We'll have to keep on by dead reckoning. The
+sun will keep us pretty well on course. If we aren't there by night, the
+stars will be a better guide."
+
+"All this on an empty stomach? How about breakfast? I'm hungry--and
+thirsty."
+
+"No food." He shook the canteen that gurgled emptily. It has been only
+partly filled when he found it. "The water's low and we'll need it
+later."
+
+"I need it now," she snapped. "My mouth tastes like an unemptied ashtray
+and I'm dry as paper."
+
+"Just a single swallow," he said. "This is all we have."
+
+Lea sipped at it with her eyes closed in appreciation. He sealed the top
+and returned it to the pack without taking any himself. They were
+sweating as they started up the first dune.
+
+The desert was barren of life; they were the only things moving under
+that merciless sun. Their shadows pointed the way ahead of them, and as
+the shadows shortened the heat rose. It had an intensity Lea had never
+experienced before, a physical weight that pushed at her with a searing
+hand. Her clothing was sodden with perspiration, and it trickled burning
+into her eyes. The light and heat made it hard to see and she leaned on
+the immovable strength of Brion's arm. He walked on steadily, apparently
+ignoring the heat and discomfort.
+
+"I wonder if those things are edible--or store water?" Brion's voice was
+a harsh rasp. Lea blinked and squinted at the leathery shape on the
+summit of the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. The size of a
+man's head, wrinkled and gray as dried-out leather, knobbed with thick
+spikes. Brion pushed it up with his toe and they had a brief glimpse of
+a white roundness, like a shiny taproot, going down into the dune. Then
+the thing contracted, pulling itself lower into the sand. At the same
+instant something thin and sharp lashed out through a fold in the skin,
+striking at Brion's boot and withdrawing. There was a scratch on the
+hard plastic, beaded with drops of green liquid.
+
+"Probably poison," he said, digging his toe into the sand. "This thing
+is too mean to fool with--without a good reason. Let's keep going."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really wanted to go on, but
+her body wouldn't obey. The thin soles of her shoes were no protection
+against the burning sand and her feet were lumps of raw pain. Heat
+hammered down, poured up from the sand and swirled her in an oven of
+pain. The air she gasped in was molten metal that dried and cracked her
+mouth. Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to the wound in her scalp
+until it seemed her skull would burst with the agony. She had stripped
+down to the short tunic--in spite of Brion's insistence that she keep
+her body protected from the sun--and that clung to her, soaked with
+sweat. She tore at it in a desperate effort to breathe. There was no
+escape from the unending heat.
+
+Though the baked sand burned torture into her knees and hands she
+couldn't rise. It took all her strength not to fall farther. Her eyes
+closed and everything swirled in immense circles.
+
+Brion blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go down. He lifted and
+carried her again as he had the night before. The hot touch of her body
+shocked his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. Wiping his palm free
+of sweat and sand he touched her skin and felt the ominous hot dryness.
+
+Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the ragged breathing.
+Her temperature rising quickly as her body stopped fighting the heat and
+succumbed.
+
+There was nothing he could do here to protect her from the heat. He
+measured a tiny portion of the remaining water into her mouth and she
+swallowed convulsively. The thinnest of the clothing protected her
+slight body from the direct rays of the sun. After that he could only
+take her in his arms and keep on toward the horizon. An outcropping of
+rock there threw a tiny patch of shade and he walked toward it.
+
+The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of the sun, felt almost
+cool by contrast. Lea opened her eyes when he put her down, peering up
+at him through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize to him for her
+weakness, but no words came from the dried membrane of her throat. His
+body above her seemed to swim back and forth in the heat waves, swaying
+like a tree in a high wind.
+
+Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for the instant. He really
+was swaying. With sudden horror she realized how much she had come to
+depend on the eternal solidity of his strength. Now it was failing. All
+over his body the corded muscles contracted in ridges, striving to keep
+him erect. She saw his mouth pulled open by the taut cords of his neck
+and the gaping, silent scream was more terrible than any sound. Then she
+screamed herself as his eyes rolled back, leaving just the empty white
+of the eyeballs staring terribly at her. He went over, back down, like a
+felled tree, thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious or dead she
+couldn't tell. She pulled limply at his leg, but couldn't drag his
+immense weight into the shade.
+
+Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw this and knew that
+he was still alive. Yet what was happening? She groped for memory in the
+red haze of her mind, but could remember nothing from her medical
+studies that would explain this. On every square inch of his body the
+sweat glands seethed with sudden activity. From every pore oozed great
+globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normal perspiration. Brion's
+arms rippled with motion and Lea stared, horrified as the hairs there
+writhed and stirred as though endowed with separate life. His chest rose
+and fell rapidly, deep, gasping breaths wracking his body. Lea could
+only stare through the dim redness of unreality and wonder if she was
+going mad before she died.
+
+A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping breath, and when it was
+over his breathing was easier. The perspiration still covered his body,
+the individual beads touching and forming tiny streams that seeped down
+his body and vanished in the sand. He stirred and rolled onto his side,
+facing her. His eyes open and normal now as he smiled.
+
+"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly, coming at the wrong
+season and everything. It was a bit of a jar to my system. I'll get you
+some water now, there's still a bit left."
+
+"What happened? When you looked like that, when you fell--"
+
+"Take two swallows, no more," he said, holding the canteen to her mouth.
+"Just summer change, that's all. Happens to us every year on
+Anvhar--only not that violently, of course. In the winter our bodies
+store a layer of fat under the skin for insulation and sweating almost
+ceases completely. Lot of internal changes, too. When the weather warms
+up the process is reversed. The fat is metabolized and the sweat glands
+enlarge and begin working overtime as the body prepares for two months
+of hard work, heat and little sleep. I guess the heat here triggered off
+the summer change early."
+
+"You mean--you've adapted to this terrible planet?"
+
+"Just about. Though it does feel a little warm. I'll need a lot more
+water soon, so we can't remain here. Do you think you can stand the sun
+if I carry you?"
+
+"No, but I won't feel any better staying here." She was light-headed,
+scarcely aware of what she said. "Keep going, I guess. Keep going."
+
+As soon as she was out of the shadow of the rock the sunlight burst over
+her again in a wave of hot pain. She was unconscious at once. Her slight
+weight was no burden to Brion and he made his best speed, heading toward
+the spot on the horizon where the sun would set. Without water he knew
+he could not last more than a day or two at best.
+
+When sunset came he was still walking steadily. Only when the air
+chilled did he stop to dress them both in the warm clothes and push on.
+Lea regained consciousness in the cool night air and finished the last
+mouthfuls of water. She wanted to walk, but could only moan with pain
+when her burned feet touched the ground. He put ointment on them and
+wrapped them in cloth. They were too swollen to go back into the ragged
+shoes. Lifting his burden he walked on into the night, following the
+guiding stars.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Except for the nagging thirst, it was an easy night. He wouldn't need
+sleep for two or three days more, so that didn't bother him. His muscles
+had a plentiful supply of fuel at hand in the no longer wanted
+subcutaneous fatty layer. Metabolizing it kept him warm. By running at a
+ground-eating pace whenever the footing was smooth he made good time. By
+dawn he was feeling a little tired and was at least ten kilos lighter
+due to the loss of the burned up fat.
+
+There was no sight of the city yet. This was the last day. Massive as
+the adaptation of his body was to the climate, it still needed water to
+function. As his pores opened in the heat he knew the end was very
+close. Weaving, stumbling, trying not to fall with the unconscious girl,
+he climbed dune after unending dune. Before his tortured eyes the sun
+expanded and throbbed like a gigantic beating heart. He struggled to the
+top of the mountain of sand and looked at the Disan standing a few feet
+away.
+
+They were both too surprised by the sudden encounter to react at once.
+For a breath of time they stared at each other, unmoving. When they
+reacted it was with the same defense of fear. Brion dropped the girl,
+bringing the gun up from the holster in the return of the same motion.
+The Disan jerked a belled tube from his waistband and raised it to his
+mouth.
+
+Brion didn't fire. A dead man had taught him how to train his empathetic
+sense, and to trust it. In spite of the fear that wanted him to jerk the
+trigger, a different sense read the unvoiced emotions of the native
+Disan. There was fear there, and hatred. Welling up around these was a
+strong desire not to commit violence this time, to communicate instead.
+Brion felt and recognized all this in a small part of a second. He had
+to act instantly to avoid a tragic accident. A jerk of his wrist threw
+the gun to one side.
+
+As soon as it was gone, he regretted his loss. He was gambling their
+lives on an ability he still was not sure of. The Disan had the tube to
+his mouth when the gun hit the ground. He held the pose, unmoving,
+thinking. Then he accepted Brion's action and thrust the tube back into
+his waistband.
+
+"Do you have any water?" Brion asked, the guttural Disan words hurting
+his throat.
+
+"I have water," the man said. He still didn't move. "Who are you?"
+
+"We're from offplanet. We had ... an accident. We want to go to the
+city. The water."
+
+The Disan looked at the unconscious girl and made his decision. Over one
+shoulder he wore one of the green objects that Brion remembered from the
+solido. He pulled it off and the thing writhed slowly in his hands. It
+was alive. A green length a meter long, like a noduled section of a
+thick vine. One end flared out into a petallike formation. The Disan
+took a hook-shaped object from his waist and thrust it into the petaled
+orifice. When he turned the hook in a quick motion the length of green
+writhed and curled around his arm. He pulled something small and dark
+out and threw it to the ground, extending the twisting green shape
+towards Brion. "Put your mouth to the end and drink," he said.
+
+Lea needed the water more, but he drank first, suspicious of the living
+water source. A hollow below the writhing petals was filling with
+straw-colored water from the fibrous, reedy interior. He raised it to
+his mouth and drank. The water was hot and tasted swampy. Sudden sharp
+pains around his mouth made him jerk the thing away. Tiny glistening
+white barbs projected from the petals, pink tipped now with his blood.
+Brion swung towards the Disan angrily--and stopped when he looked at the
+other man's face. His mouth was surrounded by many small scars.
+
+"The vaede does not like to give up its water, but it always does," the
+man said.
+
+Brion drank again then put the vaede to Lea's mouth. She moaned without
+regaining consciousness, her lips seeking reflexively for the
+life-saving liquid. When she was satisfied Brion gently drew the barbs
+from her flesh and drank again. The Disan hunkered down on his heels and
+watched them expressionlessly. Brion handed back the vaede, then held
+some of the clothes so Lea was in their shade. He settled into the same
+position as the native and looked closely at him.
+
+Squatting immobile on his heels, the Disan appeared perfectly comfortable
+under the flaming sun. There was no trace of perspiration on his naked,
+browned skin. Long hair fell to his shoulders and startlingly blue eyes
+stared back at Brion from deep-set sockets. The heavy kilt around his
+loins was the only garment he wore. Once more the vaede rested over his
+shoulder, still stirring unhappily. Around his waist was the same
+collection of leather, stone and brass objects that had been in the
+solido. Two of them now had meaning to Brion. The tube-and-mouthpiece; a
+blowgun of some kind. And the specially shaped hook for opening the
+vaede. He wondered if the other strangely formed things had equally
+realistic functions. If you accepted them as artifacts with a
+purpose--not barbaric decorations--you had to accept their owner as
+something more than the crude savage he resembled.
+
+"My name is Brion. And you--"
+
+"You may not have my name. Why are you here? To kill my people?"
+
+Brion forced the memory of the last night away. Killing was just what he
+had done. Some expectancy in the man's manner, some sensed feeling of
+hope prompted Brion to speak the truth.
+
+"I'm here to stop your people from being killed. I believe in the end of
+the war."
+
+"Prove it."
+
+"Take me to the Cultural Relationships Foundation in the city and I'll
+prove it. I can do nothing here in the desert. Except die."
+
+For the first time there was emotion on the Disan's face. He frowned and
+muttered something to himself. There was a fine beading of sweat above
+his eyelids now as he fought an internal battle. Coming to a decision he
+rose, and Brion stood, too.
+
+"Come with me. I'll take you to Hovedstad. But wait, there is one thing
+I must know. Are you from Nyjord?"
+
+"No."
+
+The nameless Disan merely grunted and turned away. Brion shouldered
+Lea's unconscious body and followed him. They walked for two hours, the
+Disan setting a cruel pace, before they reached a wasteland of jumbled
+rock. The native pointed to the highest tower of sand-eroded stone.
+"Wait near this," he said. "Someone will come for you." He watched while
+Brion placed the girl's still body in the shade, and passed over the
+vaede for the last time. Just before leaving he turned back, hesitating.
+
+"My name is ... Ulv," he said. Then he was gone.
+
+Brion did what he could to make Lea comfortable, but it was very little.
+If she didn't get medical attention soon she would be dead. Dehydration
+and shock were uniting to destroy her.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Just before sunset Brion heard clanking, and the throbbing whine of a
+sandcar's engine coming from the west.
+
+With each second the noise grew louder, coming their way. The tracks
+squeaked as the car turned around the rock spire, obviously seeking them
+out. A large carrier, big as a truck. It stopped before them in a cloud
+of its own dust and the driver kicked the door open.
+
+"Get in here--and fast!" the man shouted. "You're letting in all the
+heat." He gunned the engine, ready to kick in the gears, looking at them
+irritatedly.
+
+Ignoring the driver's nervous instructions, Brion carefully placed Lea
+on the rear seat before he pulled the door shut. The car surged forward
+instantly, a blast of icy air pouring from the air-cooling vents. It
+wasn't cold in the vehicle--but the temperature was at least forty
+degrees lower than the outer air. Brion covered Lea with all their extra
+clothing to prevent any further shock to her system. The driver, hunched
+over the wheel and driving with an intense speed, hadn't said a word to
+them since they had entered.
+
+Brion looked up as another man stepped from the engine compartment in
+the rear of the car. He was thin, harried looking. Pointing a gun.
+
+"Who are you," he said, without a trace of warmth in his voice.
+
+It was a strange reception, but Brion was beginning to realize that Dis
+was a strange planet. He sat, relaxed and unmoving, keeping his voice
+pitched low. The other man chewed at his lip nervously and Brion didn't
+want to startle him into pulling the trigger.
+
+"My name is Brandd. We landed from space two nights ago and have been
+walking in the desert ever since. Now don't get excited and shoot the
+gun when I tell you this--but both Vion and Ihjel are dead."
+
+The man with the gun gasped, his eyes widened. The driver threw a single
+frightened look over his shoulder then turned quickly back to the wheel.
+Brion's probe had hit its mark. If these men weren't from the Cultural
+Relationships Foundation, they at least knew a lot about it. It seemed
+safe to assume they were C.R.F. men.
+
+"When they were shot the girl and I escaped. We were trying to reach the
+city and contact you. You are from the Foundation, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes. Of course," the man said, lowering the gun. He stared glassy-eyed
+into space for a moment, nervously working his teeth against his lip.
+Startled at his own inattention he raised the gun again.
+
+"If you're Brandd, there's something I want to know." Rummaging in his
+breast pocket with his free hand he brought out a yellow message form.
+He moved his lips as he reread the message. "Now answer me--if you
+can--what are the last three events in the"--he took a quick look at the
+paper again--"in the Twenties?"
+
+"Chess finals, rifle prone position and fencing playoffs. Why?"
+
+The man grunted and slid the pistol back into its holder, satisfied.
+"I'm Faussel," he said, and waved the message at Brion. "This is Ihjel's
+last will and testament, relayed to us by the Nyjord blockade control.
+He thought he was going to die and he sure was right. Passed on his job
+to you. You're in charge. I was Mervv's second-in-command, until he was
+poisoned. I was supposed to work for Ihjel and now I guess I'm yours. At
+least until tomorrow when we'll have everything packed and get off this
+hell planet?"
+
+"What do you mean tomorrow?" Brion asked. "It's three days to deadline
+and we still have a job to do."
+
+Faussel had dropped heavily into one of the seats and he sprang to his
+feet again, clutching the seat back to keep his balance in the swaying
+car.
+
+"Three days, three weeks, three minutes--what difference does it make?"
+His voice rose shrilly with each word and he had to make a definite
+effort to master himself before he could go on. "Look. You don't know
+anything about this. You just came and that's your bad luck. My bad luck
+is being assigned to this death trap and watching the depraved and
+filthy things the natives do. And trying to be polite to them even when
+they are killing my friends, and those Nyjord bombers up there with
+their hands on the triggers. One of those bombardiers is going to start
+thinking about home and about the cobalt bombs down here and he's going
+to press that button--deadline or no deadline."
+
+"Sit down, Faussel. Sit down and take a rest." There was sympathy in
+Brion's voice--but also the firmness of an order. Faussel swayed for a
+second longer, then collapsed. He sat with his cheek against the window,
+eyes closed. A pulse throbbed visibly in his temple and his lips worked.
+Under too much tension for too long a time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This was the atmosphere that hung heavily in the air at the C.R.F.
+building when they arrived. Despair and defeat. The doctor was the only
+one who didn't share this mood as he bustled Lea off to the clinic with
+prompt efficiency. He obviously had enough patients to keep his mind
+occupied. With the others the feeling of depression was unmistakable.
+From the first instant they had driven through the automatic garage door
+Brion had swum in this miasma of defeat. It was omnipresent and hard to
+ignore.
+
+As soon as he had eaten he went with Faussel into what was to have been
+Ihjel's office. Through the transparent walls he could see the staff
+packing the records, crating them for shipment. Faussel seemed less
+nervous now that he was no longer in command. Brion rejected any idea he
+had of letting the man know that he was only a green novice in the
+Foundation. He was going to need all the authority he could muster,
+since they would undoubtedly hate him for what he was going to do.
+
+"Better take notes of this Faussel, and have it typed. I'll sign it."
+The printed words always carried the most authority. "All preparations
+for leaving are to be stopped at once. Records are to be returned to the
+files. We are going to stay here just as long as we have clearance from
+the Nyjorders. If this operation is unsuccessful, we will all leave
+together when the time expires. We will take whatever personal baggage
+we can carry by hand, everything else stays here. Perhaps you don't
+realize we are here to save a planet--not file cabinets full of papers."
+Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faussel flush, then angrily
+transcribe his notes. "As soon as that is typed bring it back. And all
+the reports as to what has been accomplished on this project. That will
+be all for now."
+
+Faussel stamped out and a minute later Brion saw the shocked, angry
+looks from the workers in the outer office. Turning his back to them he
+opened the drawers in the desk, one after another. The top drawer was
+empty, except for a sealed envelope. It was addressed to Winner Ihjel.
+
+Brion looked at it thoughtfully, then ripped it open. The letter inside
+was handwritten.
+
+    Ihjel:
+
+    I've had the official word that you are on the way to relieve me and
+    I am forced to admit I feel only an intense satisfaction. You've had
+    the experience on these outlaw planets and can get along with the
+    odd types. I have been specializing in research for the last twenty
+    years, and the only reason I was appointed planetary supervisor on
+    Nyjord was because of the observation and application facilities.
+    I'm the research type not the office type, no one has ever denied
+    that.
+
+    You're going to have trouble with the staff, so you had better
+    realize that they are all compulsory volunteers. Half are clerical
+    people from my staff. The others a mixed bag of whoever was close
+    enough to be pulled in on this crash assignment. It developed so
+    fast we never saw it coming. And I'm afraid we've done little or
+    nothing to stop it. We can't get access to the natives here, not in
+    the slightest. It's frightening! They don't fit! I've done Poisson
+    Distributions on a dozen different factors and none of them can be
+    equated. The Pareto Extrapolations don't work. Our field men can't
+    even talk to the natives and two have been killed trying. The ruling
+    class is unapproachable and the rest just keep their mouths shut and
+    walk away.
+
+    I'm going to take a chance and try to talk to Lig-magte, perhaps I
+    can make him see sense. I doubt if it will work and there is a
+    chance he will try violence with me, the nobility here are very
+    prone to violence. If I get back all right, you won't see this note.
+    Otherwise--good-by Ihjel, try to do a better job than I did.
+
+    Aston Mervv
+
+    P.S. There is a problem with the staff. They are supposed to be
+    saviors, but without exception they all loathe the Disans. I'm
+    afraid I do, too.
+
+Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He had to find some
+way of discovering what Pareto Extrapolations were--without uncovering
+his own lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in five minutes if
+they knew how green he was at the job. Poisson Distribution made more
+sense. It was used in physics as the unchanging probability of an event
+that would be true at all times. Such as the number of particles that
+would be given off by a lump radioactive matter during a short period.
+From the way Mervv used it in his letter it looked as if the Societics
+people had found measurable applications in societies and groups--at
+least on other planets. None of the rules seemed to be working on Dis.
+Ihjel had admitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it. Brion
+wondered who this Lig-magte was who appeared to have killed Mervv.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration, and he realized that
+Faussel had been standing in front of his desk for some minutes. When
+Brion looked up at the man he was mopping perspiration from his face.
+
+"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order," he said. "Should I have
+the mechanic look at it?"
+
+"There's nothing wrong with the machine, I'm just adapting to Dis
+climate. Anything else, Faussel?"
+
+The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't succeed in hiding. He
+also had trouble believing the literal truth. He placed the small stack
+of file folders on the desk.
+
+"These are the reports to date, everything we have uncovered about the
+Disans. It's not very much; however, considering the antisocial
+attitudes on this lousy world, it is the best we could do." A sudden
+thought hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be helped, but
+some of the staff have been wondering out loud about that native that
+contacted us. How did you get him to help you? We've never gotten to
+first base with these people and as soon as you land you have one
+working for you. You can't stop people from thinking about it, you being
+a newcomer and a stranger. After all, it looks a little odd...." He
+broke off in mid-sentence as Brion looked up in a cold fury.
+
+"I can't stop people from thinking about it--but I can stop them from
+talking. Our job is to contact the Disans and end this suicidal war. I
+have done more in one day than all of you have done since you arrived. I
+have accomplished this because I am better at my work than the rest of
+you. That is all the information any of you are going to receive. You
+are dismissed."
+
+White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and stamped out. Out to
+spread the word about what a slave-driver the new director was. They
+would then all hate him passionately which was just the way he wanted
+it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he was. And perhaps a new
+emotion, other than disgust and defeat, might jar them into a little
+action. They certainly couldn't do any worse than they had been doing.
+
+It was a frightening amount of responsibility. For the first time since
+setting foot on this barbaric planet Brion had time to stop and think.
+He was taking an awful lot upon himself. He knew nothing about this
+world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict. Here he sat
+pretending to be in charge of an organization he had first heard about
+only a few weeks earlier. It was a frightening situation. Should he
+slide out from under?
+
+There was just one possible answer, and that was _no_. Until he found
+someone else who could do better, he seemed to be the one best suited
+for the job. And Ihjel's opinion had to count for something. Brion had
+felt the surety of the man's convictions that Brion was the only one
+who might possibly succeed in this difficult spot.
+
+Let it go at that. If he had any qualms, it would be best to put them
+behind him. Aside from everything else there was a primary bit of
+loyalty involved. Ihjel had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe it was
+a provincial attitude to hold in this great big universe--Anvhar was
+certainly far enough away from here--but honor is very important to a
+man who must stand alone. He had a debt to Ihjel and he was going to pay
+it off.
+
+Once the decision had been made he felt easier. There was an intercom on
+the desk in front of him and he leaned with a heavy thumb on the button
+labeled _Faussel_.
+
+"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice was cold and efficient
+with ill-concealed hatred.
+
+"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director ever return from seeing
+him?"
+
+"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord, Lig-magte is the
+local overlord. He has an ugly stoneheap of a building just outside the
+city. He seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter that are
+pushing this idiotic war. As to your second question I have to answer
+yes and no. We found Director Mervv's head outside the door next morning
+with all the skin gone. We knew it was him because the doctor identified
+the bridgework in his mouth. _Do you understand?_"
+
+All pretense of control had vanished and Faussel almost shrieked the
+last words. They were all close to cracking up, if he was any example.
+Brion broke in quickly.
+
+"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the doctor that I would
+like to see him as soon as I can." He broke the connection and opened
+the first of the folders. By the time the doctor called he had skimmed
+the reports and was reading the relevant ones in greater detail. Putting
+on his warm coat he went through the outer office. The few workers still
+on duty turned their backs in frigid silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that rose above a thick black
+beard. Brion liked him at once. Anyone with enough firmness of mind to
+keep a beard in this climate was a pleasant exception after what he had
+met so far.
+
+"How's the new patient, doctor?"
+
+Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before answering. "Diagnosis:
+heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete recovery. Condition fair, considering
+the dehydration and extensive sunburn. I've treated the burns and a
+saline drip is taking care of the other. She just missed going into
+heat-shock. I have her under sedation now."
+
+"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow morning. Could she do
+this--with stimulants or drugs?"
+
+"She could--but I don't like it. There might be side factors, perhaps
+long-standing debilitation. It's a chance."
+
+"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy hours this planet
+is due for destruction. In attempting to avert that tragedy I'm
+expendable as is everyone else here. Agreed?"
+
+The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked Brion's immense frame up
+and down. "Agreed," he said, almost happily. "It is a distinct pleasure
+to see something beside black defeat around here. I'll go along with
+you."
+
+"Well you can help me right now. I checked the personnel roster and
+discovered that out of the twenty-eight people working here there isn't
+a physical scientist of any kind--other than yourself."
+
+"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians. Not worth a damn
+for field work, the whole bunch of them!" The doctor toed the floor
+switch on a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling.
+
+"Then I'm going to depend on you for some straight answers," Brion said.
+"This is an un-standard operation and the standard techniques just don't
+begin to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions and Pareto
+Extrapolations don't apply here." Stine nodded agreement and Brion
+relaxed a bit. He had just relieved himself of his entire knowledge of
+Societics and it had sounded authentic. "The more I look at it the more
+I believe that this is a physical problem; something to so with the
+exotic and massive adjustments the Disans have made to this hellish
+environment. Could this tie up in any way with their absolutely suicidal
+attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor rapidly on his stocky
+legs, twining his fingers behind his back. "You are bloody well right it
+could. Someone is thinking at last and not just punching bloody numbers
+into a machine and sitting and scratching while waiting for the screen
+to light up with the answers. Do you know how Disans exist?" Brion shook
+his head no. "The fools here think it disgusting, but I call it
+fascinating. The have found ways to join in a symbiotic relationship
+with the life forms on this planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You
+must realize, that living organisms will do anything to survive.
+Castaways at sea will drink any liquid at all in their search for water.
+Disgust at this is only the attitude of the over-protected who have
+never experienced extreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis you have a
+planet of castaways."
+
+Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk of thirst makes me
+dry." With economically efficient motions he poured grain alcohol into a
+beaker, thinned it with distilled water and flavored it with some flavor
+crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brion one. It
+didn't taste bad at all.
+
+"How do you mean parasitic, doctor? Aren't we all parasites of the lower
+life forms? Meat animals, vegetables and such?"
+
+"No, no--you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in the exact meaning
+of the word. You must realize that to a biologist there is no real
+difference between a parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism, biontergasy,
+commensalism--"
+
+"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless sounds to me. If
+that is what makes this planet tick, I'm beginning to see why the rest
+of the staff has that lost feeling."
+
+"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing. Look. You have a kind
+of crustacean living in the lakes here, very much like an ordinary crab.
+It has large claws in which it holds anemones, tentacled sea animals
+with no power of motion. The crustacean waves these around to gather
+food, and eats the pieces they capture that are too big for them. This
+is biontergasy, two creatures living and working together, yet each
+capable of existing alone. Now, this same crustacean has a parasite
+living under its shell, a degenerated form of a snail that has lost all
+powers of movement. A true parasite that takes food from its host's body
+and gives nothing in return. Inside this snail's gut there is a
+protozoan that lives off the snail's ingested food. Yet this little
+organism is not a parasite as you might think at first, but a symbiote.
+It takes food from the snail, but at the same time it secretes a
+chemical that aids the snail's digestion of the food. Do you get the
+picture? All these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the drink. "It's making some
+kind of sense now. Symbiosis, parasitism and all the rest are just ways
+of describing variations of the same basic process of living together.
+And there is probably a grading and shading between some of these that
+make the exact relationship hard to define."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world that the competing
+forms have almost died out. There are still a few left, preying off the
+others. It was the co-operating and interdependent life forms that
+really won out in the race for survival. I say life forms with intent;
+the creatures here are mostly a mixture of plant and animal, like the
+lichens you have elsewhere. The Disans have a creature they call a vaede
+that they use for water when traveling. It has rudimentary powers of
+motion from its animal parts, yet uses photosynthesis and stores water
+like a plant. When the Disans drink from it the thing taps their blood
+stream for food elements."
+
+"I know," Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You can see my scars. I'm
+beginning to comprehend how the Disans fit into the physical pattern of
+their world, and I realize it must have all kinds of psychological
+effects on them. Do you think this has any effect on their social
+organization?"
+
+"An important one. But maybe I'm making too many suppositions now,
+perhaps your researchers upstairs can tell you better, after all this is
+their field."
+
+Brion had studied the reports on the social setup and not one word of
+them made sense. They were a solid maze of unknown symbols and cryptic
+charts. "Please continue, doctor," he insisted. "The Societics reports
+are valueless so far. There are factors missing. You are the only one I
+have talked to so far who can give me any intelligent reports or
+answers."
+
+"All right then--be it on your own head. The way I see it you've got no
+society here at all, just a bunch of rugged individualists. Each one for
+himself, getting nourishment from the other life forms of the planet. If
+they have a society, it is orientated towards the rest of the planetary
+life--instead of towards other human beings. Perhaps that's why your
+figures don't make sense. They are setup for human societies. In their
+relations with each other these people are completely different."
+
+"What about the magter, the upper-class types who build castles and are
+causing all this trouble?"
+
+"I have no explanation," Dr. Stine grumbled. "My theories hold water and
+seem logical enough up to this point. But the magter are the exception
+and I have no idea why. They are completely different from the rest of
+the Disans. Argumentative, bloodthirsty, looking for planetary conquest
+instead of peace. They aren't rulers, not in the real sense. They hold
+power because nobody else wants it. They grant mining concessions to
+offworlders because they are the only ones with a sense of property.
+Maybe I'm going out on a limb. But if you can find out _why_ they are so
+different you may be onto the clue to our difficulties."
+
+For the first time since his arrival Brion began to feel a touch of
+enthusiasm. Plus the remote possibility that there might even be a
+solution to the deadly problem. He drained his glass and stood up. "I
+hope you'll wake your patient early, doctor. You might be as interested
+in talking to her as I am. If what you told me is true, she could well
+be our key to the answer. Her name is Professor Lea Morees and she is
+just out from Earth with degrees in exobiology and anthropology, and has
+a head stuffed with vital facts."
+
+"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the head not only because
+it is so pretty but because of its knowledge. Though we totter on the
+edge of atomic destruction I have a strange feeling of optimism--for the
+first time since I landed on this planet."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation building jumped at
+the thunderous noise and reached for his gun. He dropped his hand
+sheepishly when he realized it was only a sneeze--though a gargantuan
+one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling down into his coat. "I'm going
+out before I catch pneumonia," he said. The guard saluted dumbly and
+after checking his proximity detector screens he turned off the light
+and opened the door. Brion slipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut
+behind him. The street was still warm from the heat of the day and he
+sighed happily and opened his coat.
+
+This was partially a reconnaissance trip--and partly to get warmed up.
+There was little else he could do in the building, the staff had long
+since retired. He had slept himself, for half an hour, and now was
+refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports he could understand had
+been read and reread until they were memorized. He could use the time
+now, while the rest of them were asleep, to get better acquainted with
+the main city of Dis.
+
+As he walked the dark streets he realized how alien the Disan way of
+life was to everything he knew. This city--Hovedstad--literally meant
+"main place" in the native language. And that's all it was. It was only
+the presence of the offworlders that made it into a city. Building after
+building, standing deserted, bore the names of mining companies,
+traders, space transporters. None of them were occupied now. Some still
+had lights burning, switched on by automatic apparatus, others were as
+dark as the Disan structures. There weren't many of these native
+constructions and they seemed out of place among the rammed earth and
+prefab offworld buildings. Brion examined one that was dimly illumined
+by the light on the corner of VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD.
+
+It consisted of a single large room, resting flat on the ground. There
+were no windows and the whole thing appeared to have been constructed of
+some sort of woven material plastered with stone-hard mud. There was
+nothing blocking the door and he was thinking seriously of going in when
+he became aware that he was being followed.
+
+It was only a slight noise, almost lost in the night. Normally it would
+never have been noticed, but tonight Brion was listening with his entire
+body. Someone was behind him, swallowed up in the pools of darkness.
+Brion shrank back against the wall. There was very little chance this
+could be anyone but a Disan. He had a sudden memory of Mervv's severed
+head as it had been discovered outside the door.
+
+Ihjel had helped him train his empathetic sense and he reached out with
+it. It was difficult working in the dark, he could be sure of nothing.
+Was he getting a reaction--or just wishing for one? Why did it have a
+ring of familiarity to it. A sudden idea struck him.
+
+"Ulv," he said, very softly. "This is Brion." He crouched, ready for any
+attack.
+
+"I know," a voice said softly in the night. "Do not talk. Walk in the
+direction you were going before."
+
+Asking questions now would accomplish nothing. Brion turned instantly
+and did as he was bidden. The buildings grew farther apart until he
+realized from the sand underfoot that he was back in the planet-wide
+desert. It could be a trap--he hadn't recognized the voice behind the
+whisper--yet he still had to take this chance. A darker shape appeared
+in the dark night near him, and a burning hot hand touched his arm
+lightly.
+
+"We can talk here." The words were louder and this time Brion recognized
+the voice. "I have brought you to the city as I told you I would. Have
+you done as you said you would?"
+
+"I am doing it--but I need your help, Ulv. It is your life that needs
+saving and you must do your part--"
+
+"What is truth?" Ulv interrupted. "All I hear is difference. The magter
+have done well though they live the wrong way. I myself have had bronze
+from them and there is water just for going. Now they tell us they are
+getting a different world for us all from the sky people and that is
+good, too. Your people are the essence of evil and there is no harm in
+killing them."
+
+"Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"
+
+"I could have. But there is something more important. What is truth?
+What is on the papers that fall from the sky?" He sighed once, deeply.
+"There are black marks on them that some can tell meaning from. What did
+the ship voices mean when they said the magter were destroying the world
+and must be put down? I did not hear the voices, but I know one who did
+and he went to talk to Lig-magte which was foolish, because he was
+killed as he should have known he would be."
+
+"The ships were telling you the truth, Ulv. The magter have bombs that
+will destroy Nyjord--the next planet--there." He pointed to the star
+newly rising in the east. "The bombs cannot be stopped. Unless the bombs
+are found or the magter drop their suicidal plans, this planet will
+burst into flames in three days time."
+
+Ulv turned and started away. Brion called after him. "Wait. Will you
+help me stop this? How can I find you again?"
+
+"I must think," the Disan answered still moving away. "I will find you."
+
+He was gone. Brion shivered in the sudden chill of the air, and wrapped
+the coat tighter around him. He started walking back towards the warmer
+streets of the city.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was dawn when he reached the Foundation building; a new guard was at
+the front entrance. No amount of hammering or threats could convince the
+man to open until Faussel came down, yawning and blinking with sleep. He
+was starting some complaint when Brion cut him off curtly and ordered
+him to finish dressing and report for work at once. Still feeling elated
+he steamed into his office and cursed the overly-efficient character who
+had turned on his air conditioner to chill the room again. When he
+turned it off this time he removed enough of the vital parts to keep it
+out of order for the duration.
+
+When Faussel came in he was still yawning behind his fist. Obviously a
+low morning-sugar type. "Before you fall on your face, go out and get
+some coffee," Brion said. "Two cups. I'll have a cup, too."
+
+"That won't be necessary," Faussel said, drawing himself up stiffly.
+"I'll call the canteen if you wish some." He said it in the iciest tone
+he could manage this early in the morning.
+
+In his enthusiasm Brion had forgotten the hate campaign he had directed
+against himself. "Suit yourself," he snapped, getting back into the
+role. "But the next time you yawn there'll be a negative entry in your
+service record. If that's clear--you can brief me on this organization's
+visible relations with the Disans. How do they take us?"
+
+Faussel choked and swallowed a yawn. "I believe they look on the C.R.F
+people as some species of simpleton, sir. They hate all offworlders,
+memory of their desertion has been passed on verbally for generations.
+So by their one-to-one logic we should either hate back or go away. We
+stay instead. And give them food, water, medicine and artifacts. Because
+of this they let us remain on sufferance. I imagine they consider us
+do-gooder idiots, and, as long as we cause no trouble, they'll let us
+stay." He was struggling miserably to suppress a yawn, so Brion turned
+his back and gave him a chance to get it out.
+
+"What about the Nyjorders? How much do they know of our work?" Brion
+looked out the window at dusty buildings, outlined in purple against the
+violent colors of the desert sunrise.
+
+"Nyjord is a co-operating planet, and has full knowledge at all
+executive levels. They are giving us all the aid they can."
+
+"Well now is the time to ask for more. Can I contact the commander of
+the blockading fleet?"
+
+"There is a scrambler connection right through to him. I'll set it up."
+Faussel bent over the desk and punched a number into the phone controls.
+The screen flowed with the black and white patterns of the scrambler.
+
+"That's all, Faussel. I want privacy for this talk. What's the
+commander's name?"
+
+"Professor Krafft, he's a physicist. They have no military men at all,
+so they called him in for the construction of the bombs and energy
+weapons. He's still in charge." Faussel yawned extravagantly as he went
+out the door.
+
+The professor-commander was very old, with wispy gray hair and a network
+of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. His image shimmered then cleared as
+the scrambler units aligned.
+
+"You must be Brion Brandd," he said. "I have to tell you how sorry we
+all are that your friend Ihjel--and the two others--had to die. After
+coming so far to help us. I'm sure you are very happy to have had a
+friend like that."
+
+"Why ... yes, of course," Brion said, reaching for the scattered
+fragments of his thought processes. It took an effort to remember the
+first conflict now that he was worrying about the death of a planet.
+"Very kind of you to mention it. But I would like to find out a few
+things about you, if I could."
+
+"Anything at all, we are at your disposal. Before we begin though, I
+shall pass on the thanks of our council for your aid in joining us. Even
+if we are eventually forced to drop the bombs, we shall never forget
+that your organization did everything possible to avert the disaster."
+
+Once again Brion was caught off balance. For an instant he wondered if
+Krafft was being insincere, then recognized the baseness of this
+thought. The completeness of the man's humanity was obvious and
+compelling. The thought passed through Brion's mind that now he had an
+additional reason for wanting the war ended without destruction on
+either side. He very much wanted to visit Nyjord and see these people on
+their home grounds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Professor Krafft waited, patiently and silently, while Brion pulled his
+thoughts together and answered. "I still hope that this thing can be
+stopped in time. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to
+see Lig-magte and I thought it would be better if I had a legitimate
+reason. Are you in contact with him?"
+
+Krafft shook his head. "No, not really in contact. When this trouble
+started I sent him a transceiver so we could talk directly. But he has
+delivered his ultimatum, speaking for the _magter_. The only terms he
+will hear are unconditional surrender. His receiver is on but he has
+said that is the only message he will answer."
+
+"Not much chance of him ever being told that," Brion said.
+
+"There was--at one time. I hope you realize Brion that the decision to
+bomb Dis was not easily arrived at. A great many people--myself
+included--voted for unconditional surrender. We lost the vote by a very
+small margin."
+
+Brion was getting used to these philosophical body blows and he rolled
+with the punches now. "Are there any of your people left on this planet?
+Or do you have any troops I can call on for help? This is still a remote
+possibility, but, if I do find out where the bombs or the launcher are,
+a surprise raid would knock them out."
+
+"We have no people left in Hovedstad now--all the ones who weren't
+evacuated were killed. But there are commando teams standing by here to
+make a landing if the weapons are detected. The Disans must depend on
+secrecy to protect their armament since we have both the manpower and
+the technology to reach any objective. We also have technicians and
+other volunteers looking for the weapon sites. They have not been
+successful as yet, and most of them were killed soon after landing."
+Krafft hesitated for a moment. "There is another group that you should
+know about, you will need all the factors. There are some of our people
+in the desert outside of Hovedstad. We do not officially approve of
+them, though they have a good deal of popular support. Mostly young men,
+operating as raiders, killing and destroying with very little
+compunction. They are attempting to uncover the weapons by sheer
+strength of arms."
+
+This was the best news yet. Brion controlled his voice and kept his
+expression calm when he spoke. "I don't know how far I can stretch your
+co-operation--but could you possibly tell me how to contact them?"
+
+Krafft allowed himself a small smile. "I'll give you the wave length on
+which you can reach their radio. They call themselves the 'Nyjord Army.'
+When you talk to them you can do me a favor. Pass on a message. Just to
+prove things aren't bad enough--they've become a little worse. One of
+our technical crews has detected jump-space energy transmissions in the
+planetary crust. The Disans are apparently testing their projector,
+sooner than we had estimated. Our deadline has been revised by one day.
+I'm afraid there are only two days left before you must evacuate." His
+eyes were large with compassion. "I'm sorry. I know this will make your
+job that much harder."
+
+Brion didn't want to think about the loss of a full day from his already
+small deadline. "Have you told the Disans this as yet?"
+
+"No," Krafft told him. "The decision was reached just a few minutes
+before your call. It is going on the radio to Lig-magte now."
+
+"Can you cancel the transmission and let me take the message in person?"
+
+"I can do that," Krafft thought for a moment, "but it would surely mean
+your death at their hands. They have no hesitation in killing any of our
+people. I would prefer to send it by radio."
+
+"If you do that, you will be interfering with my plans, and perhaps
+destroying them under the guise of saving my life. Isn't my life my
+own--to dispose of as I will?"
+
+For the first time, Professor Krafft was upset. "I'm sorry, terribly
+sorry. I'm letting my concerns and worry wash over into my public
+affairs. Of course you may do as you please. I could never think of
+stopping you." He turned and said something inaudible offscreen. "The
+call is cancelled. The responsibility is yours. All our wishes for
+success go with you. End of transmission."
+
+"End of transmission," Brion said, and the screen went dark.
+
+"Faussel!" he shouted into the intercom. "Get me the best and fastest
+sandcar we have, a driver who knows his way around and two men, who can
+handle a gun and know how to take orders. We're going to get some
+positive action at last."
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+"It's suicide," the taller guard grumbled.
+
+"Mine not yours, so don't worry about it," Brion snapped at him. "Your
+job is to remember your orders and keep them straight. Now--let's hear
+them again."
+
+The guard rolled his eyes up in silent rebellion and repeated in a
+toneless voice. "We stay here in the car and keep the motor running
+while you go inside the stone pile there. We don't let anybody in the
+car and we try and keep them clear of the car--short of shooting them
+that is. We don't come in no matter what happens or what it looks like,
+but wait for you here. Unless you call on the radio in which case we
+come in with the automatics going and shoot the place up and it doesn't
+matter who we hit. This will only be used as a last resort."
+
+"See if you can't arrange that last resort thing if you can," the other
+guard said, patting the heavy blue barrel of his weapon.
+
+"I meant that _last_ resort," Brion said angrily. "If any guns go off
+without my permission, you will pay for it and pay with your necks. I
+want that clearly understood. You are here as a rear guard and a base
+for me to get back to. This is my operation and mine alone--unless I
+call you in. Understood?"
+
+He waited until all three men had nodded in agreement, then checked the
+charge on his gun. Fully loaded. It would be foolish not to go in armed.
+But he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put it aside. The button
+radio on his collar was working and had a strong enough signal to get
+through any number of walls. He took off his coat, threw open the door
+and stepped out into the searing brilliance of the Disan noon.
+
+There was only the desert silence, broken by the steady throb of the
+car's motor behind him. Stretching away to the horizon in every
+direction were the eternal deserts of sand. The keep stood nearby,
+solitary, a massive pile of black rocks. Brion plodded closer, watching
+for any motion from the walls. Nothing stirred. The high-walled,
+irregularly shaped construction sat in a ponderous silence. Brion was
+sweating now, only partially from the heat.
+
+He circled the thing, looking for a gate. There wasn't one at ground
+level. A slanting cleft in the stone could be climbed easily, but it
+seemed incredible that this might be the only entrance. A complete
+circuit proved that it was. Brion looked unhappily at the slanting and
+broken ramp, then cupped his hands and shouted loudly.
+
+"I'm coming up. Your radio doesn't work any more. I'm bringing the
+message from Nyjord that you have been waiting to hear." A slight
+bending of the truth without fracturing it. There was no answer. Just
+the hiss of wind-blown sand against the rock and the mutter of the car
+in the background. He started to climb.
+
+The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to watch where he put his
+feet. At the same time he fought a constant impulse to look up, watching
+for anything falling from above. Nothing happened. When he reached the
+top of the wall he was breathing hard, sweat moistened his body. There
+was still no one in sight. He stood on an unevenly shaped wall that
+appeared to circle the building. Instead of a courtyard inside it, the
+wall was the outer face of the structure, the domed roof rising from it.
+At varying intervals dark openings gave access to the interior. When
+Brion looked down the sandcar was just a dun-colored bump in the desert,
+already far behind him.
+
+Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There was still no one in
+sight. The room inside was something out of a madman's funhouse. It was
+higher than it was wide, irregular, and more like a hallway than a room.
+At one end it merged into an incline that became a stairwell. The other
+ended in a hole that vanished in darkness below. Light of sorts filtered
+in through slots and holes drilled into the thick stone wall. Everything
+was built of the same crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took the
+stairs. After a number of blind passages and wrong turns he saw a
+stronger light ahead. There was food, metal, even artifacts of the
+unusual Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yet no
+people. The light ahead grew stronger as he approached, the passageway
+opening and swelling out until it met the larger central chamber.
+
+This was the heart of the strange structure. All the rooms, passageways
+and halls existed just to give form to this gigantic hall. The walls
+rose sharply, the room circular in cross section and growing narrower
+towards the top. It was a truncated cone since there was no ceiling; a
+hot blue disk of sky cast light on the floor below.
+
+On the floor stood a knot of men staring at Brion.
+
+Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very periphery of his
+consciousness, he was aware of the rest of the room. Barrels, stores,
+machinery, a radio transceiver, various bundles and heaps that made no
+sense at first glance. There was no time to look closer. Every fraction
+of his attention was focused on the muffled and hooded men.
+
+He had found the enemy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Everything that happened to him so far on Dis had been preparation for
+this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape, the dreadful heat of
+sun and sand. All this had tempered and prepared him. It had been
+nothing in itself. Now the battle would begin in earnest.
+
+None of this was conscious. His fighter's reflexes bent his shoulders,
+curved his hands before him as he walked softly in balance, ready to
+spring in any direction. Yet none of this was really necessary. All the
+danger so far was nonphysical. When he gave this thought conscious
+thought he stopped, startled. What was wrong here? None of the men had
+moved or made a sound. How could he even know they were men? They were
+so muffled and wrapped in cloth that only their eyes were exposed.
+
+No doubt existed in Brion's mind. In spite of muffled cloth and silence
+he knew them for what they were. The eyes were empty of expression and
+unmoving, yet filled with the same negative emptiness as a bird of prey.
+They could look on life, death, and the rending of flesh with the same
+lack of interest and compassion. All this Brion knew in an instant of
+time, without words being spoken. Between the time he lifted one foot
+and walked a step he understood what he had to face. There could be no
+doubt, not to an empathetic.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+From the group of silent men poured a frost-white wave of unemotion. An
+empathetic shares what other men feel. He gets his knowledge of their
+reaction by sensing lightly their emotions, the surges of interest,
+hate, love, fear, desire, the sweep of large and small sensations that
+accompany all thought and action. The empathetic is always aware of this
+constant and silent surge, whether he makes the effort to understand it
+or not. He is like a man glancing across the open pages of a tableful of
+books. He can see that the type, words, paragraphs, thoughts are there
+even without focusing his attention to understand any of it.
+
+Then how does the man feel when he glances at the open books and sees
+only blank pages? The books are there--the words are not. He turns the
+pages of one, then others, flipping pages, searching for meaning. There
+is no meaning. All of the pages are blank.
+
+This was the way in which the magter were blank, without emotions.
+There was a barely sensed surge and return that must have been neural
+impulses on a basic level. The automatic adjustments of nerve and muscle
+that keep an organism alive. Nothing more. Brion reached for other
+sensations and there was nothing there to grasp. Either these men were
+apparently without emotions or they were able to block them from his
+detection, it was impossible to tell which.
+
+Very little time has passed in the objective world while Brion made
+these discoveries. The knot of men still looked at him, silent and
+unmoving. They weren't expectant, their attitude could not have been
+called interest. But he had come to them and now they waited to find out
+why. Any questions or statements they spoke would be redundant, so they
+didn't speak. The responsibility was his.
+
+"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?" Brion didn't like the
+tiny sound his voice made in the immense room.
+
+One of the men gave a slight motion to draw attention to himself. None
+of the others moved. They still waited.
+
+"I have a message for you," Brion said, talking slowly to fill the
+silence of the room and the emptiness of his thoughts. This had to be
+handled right. But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation in the city,
+as you undoubtedly know. I've been talking to the people on Nyjord. They
+have a message for you."
+
+The silence grew longer. Brion had no intention of making this a
+monologue. He needed facts to operate, to form an opinion. Looking at
+the silent forms was telling him nothing. Time stretched taut and
+finally Lig-magte spoke.
+
+"The Nyjorders are going to surrender."
+
+It was an impossibly strange sentence. Brion had never realized before
+how much of the content of speech was made up of emotion. If the man had
+given it a positive emphasis, perhaps said it with enthusiasm, it would
+have meant, "Success! The enemy is going to surrender!" This wasn't the
+meaning.
+
+With a rising inflection on the end it would have been a question. "Are
+they going to surrender?" It was neither of these. The sentence carried
+no other message than that contained in the simplest meanings of the
+separate words. It had intellectual connotations, but these could only
+be gained from past knowledge, not from the sound of the words. There
+was only one message they were prepared to receive from Nyjord.
+Therefore, Brion was bringing the message. If that was not the message
+Brion was bringing, the men here were not interested.
+
+This was the vital fact. If they were not interested he could have no
+further value to them. Since he came from the enemy he was the enemy.
+Therefore, he would be killed. Because this was vital to his existence
+Brion took the time to follow the thought through. It made logical
+sense--and logic was all he could depend on now. He could be talking to
+robots or alien creatures for the amount of human response he was
+receiving.
+
+"You can't win this war--all you can do is hurry your own deaths." He
+said this with as much conviction as he could, realizing at the same
+time that it was wasted effort. No flicker of response stirred in the
+men before him. "The Nyjorders know you have cobalt bombs, and they have
+detected your jump-space projector. They can't take any more chances.
+They have pushed the deadline closer by an entire day. There are one and
+a half days left before the bombs fall and you are all destroyed. Do you
+realize what that means--"
+
+"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked.
+
+"Yes," Brion said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two things saved his life then. He had guessed what would happen as soon
+as they had his message, though he hadn't been sure. But even the
+suspicion had put him on his guard. This, combined with the reflexes of
+a Winner of the Twenties, was barely enough to enable him to survive.
+
+From frozen mobility Lig-magte had catapulted into headlong attack. As
+he leaped forward he drew a curved, double-edged blade from under his
+robes. It plunged unerringly through the spot where Brion's body had
+been an instant before.
+
+There had been no time to tense his muscles and jump, just space to
+relax them and fall to one side. His reasoning mind joined the battle as
+he hit the floor. Lig-magte plunged by him, turning and bringing the
+knife down at the same time. Brion's foot lashed out and caught the
+other man's leg, sending him sprawling.
+
+They were both on their feet at the same instant, facing each other.
+Brion now had his hands clasped before him in the unarmed man's best
+defense against a knife, the two arms protecting the body, the two hands
+joined to beat aside the knife arm from whichever direction it came. The
+Disan hunched low, flipped the knife quickly from hand to hand, then
+thrust it again at Brion's midriff.
+
+Only by the merest fractional margin did Brion evade the attack for the
+second time. Lig-magte fought with complete violence. Every action was
+as intense as possible, deadly and thorough. There could be only one end
+to this unequal contest if Brion stayed on the defensive. The man with
+the knife had to win.
+
+With the next charge Brion changed tactics. He leaped inside the thrust,
+clutching for the knife arm. A burning slice of pain cut across his arm,
+then his fingers clutched the tendoned wrist. Clamped down hard,
+grinding shut, compressing with the tightening intensity of a closing
+vise.
+
+It was all he could do to simply hold on. There was no science in it,
+just his greater strength from exercise and existence on a heavier
+planet. All of this strength went to his clutching hand, because he held
+his own life in that hand, forcing away the knife that wanted to
+terminate it forever. Nothing else mattered. Neither the frightening
+force of the knees that thudded into his body nor the hooked fingers
+that reached for his eyes to tear them out. He protected his face as
+well as he could, while the nails tore furrows through his flesh and the
+cut on his arm bled freely. These were only minor things to be endured.
+His life depended on the grasp of the fingers of his right hand.
+
+There was a sudden immobility as he succeeded in clutching Lig-magte's
+other arm. It was a good grip and he could hold the arm immobilized.
+They had reached stasis, standing knee to knee, their faces only a few
+inches apart. The muffling cloth had fallen from the Disan's face during
+the struggle and empty, frigid eyes stared into Brion's. No flicker of
+emotion crossed the harsh planes of the other man's face. A great
+puckered white scar covered one cheek and pulled up a corner of the
+mouth in a cheerless grimace. It was false, there was still no
+expression here. Even when the pain must be growing more intense.
+
+Brion was winning--if no one broke the impasse. His greater weight and
+strength counted now. The Disan would have to drop the knife before his
+arm was dislocated at the shoulder. He didn't do it. With sudden horror
+Brion realized that he wasn't going to drop it--no matter what happened.
+
+A dull, hideous snap jerked through the Disan's body and the arm hung
+limp and dead. No expression crossed the other man's face. The knife was
+still locked in the fingers of the paralyzed hand. With his other hand
+Lig-magte reached across and started to pry the blade loose, ready to
+continue the battle one-handed. Brion raised his foot and kicked the
+knife free, sending it spinning across the room.
+
+Lig-magte made a fist of his good hand and crashed it into Brion's body.
+He was still fighting, as if nothing had changed. Brion backed slowly
+away from the man. "Stop it," he said. "You can't win now. It's
+impossible." He called to the other men who were watching the unequal
+battle with expressionless immobility. No one answered him.
+
+With a terrible sinking sensation Brion then realized what would happen
+and what he had to do. Lig-magte was as heedless of his own life as he
+was of the life of his planet. He would press the attack no matter what
+damage was done to him. Brion had an insane vision of him breaking the
+man's other arm, fracturing both his legs, and the limbless broken
+creature still coming forward. Crawling, rolling, teeth bared since they
+were the only remaining weapon.
+
+There was only one way to end it. Brion feinted and the Lig-magte's arm
+moved clear of his body. The engulfing cloth was thin and through it
+Brion could see the outlines of the Disan's abdomen and rib cage. The
+clear location of the great nerve ganglion.
+
+It was the death blow of the kara-te. Brion had never used it on a man.
+In practice he had broken heavy boards, splintering them instantly with
+the short, precise stroke. The stiffened hand moving forward in a sudden
+surge, all the weight and energy of his body concentrated in his joined
+fingertips. Plunging deep into the other's flesh.
+
+Killing, not by accident or in sudden anger. Killing because this was
+the only way the battle could possibly end.
+
+Like a ruined tower of flesh the Disan crumpled and fell.
+
+Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion stood over the body of Lig-magte and
+stared at the dead man's allies.
+
+Death filled the room.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Facing the silent Disans, Brion's thoughts hurtled about in sweeping
+circles. There would be no more than an instant's tick of time before
+the magter avenged themselves bloodily and completely. He felt a
+fleeting regret for not having brought his gun, then abandoned the
+thought. There was no time for regrets--what could he do NOW.
+
+The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and Brion realized that
+they couldn't be positive yet that Lig-magte had been killed. Only Brion
+knew the deadliness of that blow. Their lack of knowledge might buy him
+a little more time.
+
+"Lig-magte is unconscious, but will revive quickly," Brion said,
+pointing at the huddled body. As the eyes turned automatically to follow
+his finger, he began walking slowly towards the exit. "I did not want to
+do this, but he forced me to, because he wouldn't listen to reason. Now
+I have something else to show you, something that I hoped it would not
+be necessary to reveal."
+
+He was saying the first words that came into his head, trying to keep
+them distracted as long as possible. He must only appear to be going
+across the room, that was the feeling he must generate. There was even
+time to stop for a second and straighten his rumpled clothing and brush
+the sweat from his eyes. Talking easily, walking slowly towards the hall
+out of the chamber. He was halfway there when the spell broke and the
+rush began. One of the magter knelt and touched the body, and shouted a
+single word.
+
+"Dead."
+
+Brion hadn't waited for the official announcement. At the first movement
+of feet he dived headlong for the shelter of the exit. There was a
+spatter of tiny missiles on the wall next to him and he had a brief
+glimpse of raised blowguns before the wall intervened. He went up the
+dimly-lit stairs five at a time.
+
+The pack was just behind him, voiceless and deadly. He could not gain on
+them--if anything they closed the distance as he pushed his already
+tired body to the utmost. There was no subtlety or trick he could use
+now, just straightforward flight back the way he had come. A single slip
+on the irregular steps and it would be all over.
+
+There was someone ahead of him. If the woman had waited a few seconds
+more, he would certainly have been killed. But instead of slashing at
+him as he went by the doorway she made the mistake of rushing to the
+center of the stairs, the knife ready to impale him as he came up.
+Without slowing Brion fell onto his hands and easily dodged under the
+blow. As he passed he twisted and seized her around the waist, picking
+her from the ground.
+
+When her legs lifted from under her the woman screamed--the first human
+sound Brion had heard in this human anthill. His pursuers were just
+behind him, and he hurled the woman into them with all his strength.
+They fell in a tangle and Brion used the precious seconds gained to
+reach the top of the building.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There must have been other stairs and exits because one of the magter
+stood between Brion and the way down out of this trap. Armed and ready
+to kill him if he tried to pass.
+
+As he ran towards the executioner, Brion flicked on his collar radio and
+shouted into it. "I'm in trouble here, can you--"
+
+The guards in the car must have been waiting for this message. Before he
+had finished there was the thud of a high-velocity slug hitting flesh
+and the Disan spun and fell, blood soaking his shoulder. Brion leaped
+over him and headed for the ramp.
+
+"The next one is me--hold your fire!" he called.
+
+Both guards must have had their telescopic sights zeroed on the spot.
+They let Brion pass, then threw in a hail of semiautomatic fire that
+tore chunks from the stone and screamed away in noisy ricochets. Brion
+didn't try to see if anyone was braving this hail of covering fire; he
+concentrated his energies on making as quick and erratic a descent as he
+could. Above the sounds of the firing he heard the car motor howl as it
+leaped forward. With their careful aim spoiled, the gunners switched to
+full automatic and unleashed a hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed
+the top of the tower.
+
+"Cease ... firing!" Brion gasped into the radio as he ran. The driver
+was good and timed his arrival with exactitude. The car reached the base
+of the tower at the same instant Brion did, and he burst through the
+door while it was still moving. No orders were necessary. He fell
+headlong onto a seat as the car swung in a dust-raising turn and ground
+into high gear back to the city.
+
+Reaching over carefully, the tall guard gently extracted a bit of
+pointed wood and fluff from a fold of Brion's pants. He cracked open the
+car door, and just as delicately threw it out.
+
+"I knew that thing didn't touch you," he said, "since you are still
+among the living. They got a poison on those blowgun darts that takes
+all of twelve seconds to work. Lucky."
+
+Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky he was to be out of
+the trap alive. With information. Now that he knew more about the
+magter he shuddered at his innocence in walking alone and unarmed into
+the tower. Skill had helped him survive--but better than average luck
+had been necessary. Curiosity had gotten him in, brashness and speed had
+taken him out. He was exhausted, battered and bloody--but cheerfully
+happy. The facts about the magter were shaping themselves into a theory
+that might explain their attempt at racial suicide. It just needed a
+little time to be put into shape.
+
+A pain cut across his arm and he jumped, startled, pieces of his
+thoughts crashing into ruin around him. The gunner had cracked the first
+aid box and was swabbing his arm with antiseptic. The knife wound was
+long, but not deep. Brion shivered while the bandage was going on, then
+quickly slipped into his coat. The air conditioner whined industriously,
+bringing down the temperature.
+
+There was no attempt to follow the car. When the black tower had dropped
+over the horizon the guards relaxed, ran cleaning rods through their
+guns and compared marksmanship. All of their antagonism towards Brion
+was gone--they actually smiled at him. He had given them the first
+chance to shoot back since they had been on this planet.
+
+The ride was uneventful and Brion was scarcely aware of it. A theory was
+taking form in his mind. It was radical, unusual and startling--yet it
+seemed to be the only one that fitted the facts. He pushed at it from
+all sides, but if there were any holes he couldn't find them. What it
+needed was dispassionate proving or disproving. There was only one
+person on Dis who was qualified to do this.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lea was working in the lab when he came in, bent over a low-power
+binocular microscope. Something small, limbless and throbbing was on the
+slide. She glanced up when she heard his footsteps, smiling warmly when
+she recognized him. Fatigue and pain had drawn her face, her skin
+glistening with burn ointment, was chapped and peeling. "I must look a
+wreck," she said, putting the back of her hand to her cheek. "Something
+like a well-oiled and lightly cooked piece of beef." She lowered her arm
+suddenly and took his hand in both of hers. Her palms were warm and
+slightly moist.
+
+"Thank you, Brion," was all she could say. Her society on Earth was
+highly civilized and sophisticated, able to discuss any topic without
+emotion and without embarrassment. This was fine in most circumstances,
+but made it difficult to thank a person for saving your life. However
+you tried to phrase it, it came out sounding like a last act speech from
+an historical play. There was no doubt, however, as to what she meant.
+Her eyes were large and dark, the pupils dilated by the drugs she had
+been given. They could not lie, nor could the emotions he sensed. He did
+not answer, just held her hand an instant longer.
+
+"How do you feel?" he asked, concerned. His conscience twinged as he
+remembered that he was the one who had ordered her out of bed and back
+to work today.
+
+"I should be feeling terrible," she said, with an airy wave of her hand.
+"But I'm walking on top of the world. I'm so loaded with pain-killers
+and stimulants that I'm high as the moon. All the nerves to my feet feel
+turned off--it's like walking on two balls of fluff. Thanks for getting
+me out of that awful hospital and back to work."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Brion was suddenly ashamed of having driven her from her sick bed.
+"Don't be sorry!" Lea said, apparently reading his mind, but really
+seeing only his sudden drooped expression. "I'm feeling no pain.
+Honestly, I feel a little light-headed and foggy at times, nothing more.
+And this is the job I came here to do. In fact ... well, it's almost
+impossible to tell you just how fascinating it all is! It was almost
+worth getting baked and parboiled for."
+
+She swung back to the microscope, centering the specimen with a turn of
+the stage adjustment screw. "Poor Ihjel was right when he said this
+planet was exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod, a lot like
+_Odostomia_, but it has parasitical morphological changes so profound--"
+
+"There's something else I remember," Brion said, interrupting her
+enthusiastic lecture, only half of which he could understand. "Didn't
+Ihjel also hope that you would give some study to the natives as well as
+their environment. The problem is with the Disans--not the local wild
+life."
+
+"But I am studying them," Lea insisted. "The Disans have attained an
+incredibly advanced form of commensalism. Their lives are so intimately
+connected and integrated with the other life forms that they must be
+studied in relation to their environment. I doubt if they show as many
+external physical changes as little eating-foot _Odostomia_ on the slide
+here, but there will be surely a number of psychological changes and
+adjustments that will crop up. One of these might be the explanation of
+their urge for planetary suicide."
+
+"That may be true--but I don't think so," Brion said. "I went on a
+little expedition this morning and found something that has more
+immediate relevancy."
+
+For the first time Lea became aware of his slightly battered condition.
+Her drug-grooved mind could only follow a single idea at a time and had
+overlooked the significance of the bandage and dirt.
+
+"I've been visiting," Brion said, forestalling the question on her lips.
+"The magter are the ones who are responsible for causing the trouble,
+and I had to see them up close before I could make any decision. It
+wasn't a very pleasant thing, but I found out what I wanted to know.
+They are different in every way from the normal Disans. I've compared
+them. I've talked to Ulv--the native who saved us in the desert--and I
+can understand him. He is not like us in many ways--he would certainly
+have to be, living in this oven--but he is still undeniably human. He
+gave us drinking water when we needed it, then brought help. The magter,
+the upper-class lords of Dis, are the direct opposite. As cold-blooded
+and ruthless a bunch of murderers as you can possibly imagine. They
+tried to kill me when they met me, without reason. Their clothes,
+habits, dwellings, manners--everything about them differs from that of
+the normal Disan. More important, the magter are as coldly efficient
+and inhuman as a reptile. They have no emotions, no love, no hate,
+anger, fear--nothing. Each of them is a chilling bundle of thought
+processes and reactions, with all the emotions removed."
+
+"Aren't you exaggerating?" Lea asked. "After all, you can't be sure. It
+might just be part of their training not to reveal any emotional state.
+Everyone must experience emotional states whether they like it or not."
+
+"That's my main point. Everyone does--except the magter. I can't go into
+all the details now, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Even at
+the point of death they have no fear or hatred. It may sound impossible,
+but it is true."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lea tried to shake the knots from her drug-hazed mind. "I'm dull today,"
+she said, "you'll have to excuse me. If these rulers had no emotional
+responses, that might explain their present suicidal position. But an
+explanation like this raises more new problems than it supplies answers
+to the old ones. How did they get this way? It doesn't seem humanly
+possible to be without emotions."
+
+"Just my point. Not _humanly_ possible. I think these ruling class
+Disans aren't human at all, like the other Disans. I think they are
+alien creatures--robots or androids--anything except men. I think they
+are living in disguise among the normal human dwellers."
+
+First Lea started to smile, then she changed her mind when she saw his
+face. "You are serious?" she asked.
+
+"Never more so. I realize it must sound as if I've had my brains bounced
+around too much this morning. Yet this is the only idea I can come up
+with that fits all of the facts. Look at the evidence yourself. One
+simple thing stands out clearly, and must be considered first if any
+theory is to hold up. That is the magters' complete indifference to
+death--their own or anyone else's. Is that normal to mankind?"
+
+"No--but I can find a couple of explanations that I would rather explore
+first, before dragging in an alien life form. There may have been a
+mutation or an inherited disease that had deformed or warped their
+minds."
+
+"Wouldn't that be sort of self-eliminating?" Brion asked. "Antisurvival?
+People who die before puberty would find it a little difficult to pass
+on a mutation to their children. But let's not beat this one point to
+death--it's the totality of these people that I find so hard to accept.
+Any one thing might be explained away, but not the collection of them.
+What about their complete lack of emotion? Or their manner of dress and
+their secrecy in general? The ordinary Disan wears a cloth kilt, while
+the magter cover themselves as completely as possible. They stay in
+their black towers and never go out except in groups. Their dead are
+always removed so they can't be examined. In every way they act like a
+race apart--and I think they are."
+
+"Granted for the moment that this outlandish idea might be true, how
+did they get here? And why doesn't anyone know about it besides them?"
+
+"Easily enough explained," Brion insisted. "There are no written records
+on this planet. After the breakdown, when the handful of survivors were
+just trying to exist here, the aliens could have landed and moved in.
+Any interference could have been wiped out. Once the population began to
+grow the invaders found they could keep control by staying separate, so
+their alien difference wouldn't be noticed."
+
+"Why should that bother them?" Lea asked. "If they are so indifferent to
+death, they can't have any strong thoughts on public opinion or alien
+body odor. Why would they bother with such a complex camouflage? And if
+they arrived from another planet what has happened to the scientific
+ability that brought them here?"
+
+"Peace," Brion said. "I don't know enough to even be able to guess at
+answers to half those questions. I'm just trying to fit a theory to the
+facts. And the facts are clear. The magter are so inhuman they would
+give me nightmares--if I were sleeping these days. What we need is more
+evidence."
+
+"Then get it," Lea said with finality. "I'm not telling you to turn
+murderer--but you might try a bit of grave-digging. Give me a scalpel
+and one of your fiends stretched out on a slab and I'll quickly tell you
+what he is or is not." She turned back to the microscope and bent over
+the eyepiece.
+
+That was really the only way to hack the Gordion knot. Dis had only
+thirty-six more hours to live, so individual deaths shouldn't be of any
+concern. He had to find a dead magter, and if none were obtainable in
+the proper condition he had to violently get one of them that way. For a
+planetary savior he was personally doing in an awful lot of the
+citizenry. He stood behind Lea, looking down at her thoughtfully while
+she worked. The back of her neck was turned up to him, lightly covered
+with gently curling hair. With one of the about-face shifts the mind is
+capable of his thoughts flipped from death to life, and he experienced a
+strong desire to lightly caress this spot, to feel the yielding texture
+of female flesh....
+
+Plunging his hands deep into his pockets he walked quickly to the door.
+"Get some rest soon," he called to her. "I doubt if those bugs will give
+you the answer. I'm going now to see if I can get the full-sized
+specimen you want."
+
+"The truth could be anywhere, I'll stay on these until you come back,"
+she said, not looking up from the microscope.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Up under the roof was a well-equipped communications room, Brion had
+taken a quick look at it when he had first toured the building. The duty
+operator had earphones on--though only one of the phones covered an
+ear--and was monitoring through the bands. His shoeless feet were on the
+edge of the table and he was eating a thick sandwich with his free
+hand. His eyes bugged when he saw Brion in the doorway and he jumped
+into a flurry of action.
+
+"Hold the pose," Brion told him, "it doesn't bother me. And if you make
+any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone, electrocute yourself
+or choke to death. Just see if you can set the transceiver on this
+frequency for me." Brion wrote the number on a scratchpad and slid it
+over to the operator. It was the frequency Professor-commander Krafft
+had given him for the radio of the illegal terrorists--the Nyjord army.
+
+The operator plugged in a handset and gave it to Brion. "Circuit open,"
+he mumbled around a mouthful of still unswallowed sandwich.
+
+"This is Brandd, director of the C.R.F. Come in please." He went on
+repeating this for more than ten minutes before he got an answer.
+
+"_What do you want?_"
+
+"I have a message of vital urgency for you--and I would also like your
+help. Do you want any more information on the radio?"
+
+"_No. Wait there--we'll get in touch with you after dark._" The carrier
+wave went dead.
+
+Thirty-five hours to the end of the world--and all he could do was wait.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat piles of paper. As he sat
+down and reached for them he was conscious of an arctic coldness in the
+air, a frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditioner grille
+which was now covered by welded steel bars. The control unit was sealed
+shut. Someone was either being very funny or very efficient. Either way
+it was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plate until it buckled, then bent
+it aside. After a careful look into the interior he disconnected one
+wire and shorted it to another. He was rewarded by a number of
+sputtering cracks and a good quantity of smoke. The compressor moaned
+and expired.
+
+Faussel was standing in the door with more papers and a shocked
+expression. "What do you have there?" Brion asked. Faussel managed to
+straighten out his face and brought the folders to the desk, arranging
+them on the piles already there.
+
+"These are the progress reports you asked for, from all units. Details
+to date, conclusions, suggestions, et cetera."
+
+"And the other pile?" Brion pointed.
+
+"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices, requisitions," he
+straightened the edges of the stack while he answered. "Daily report,
+hospital log--" His voice died away and stopped as Brion carefully
+pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into the wastebasket.
+
+"In other words, red tape," Brion said. "Well it's all filed."
+
+One by one the progress reports followed the first stack into the
+basket, until his desk was clear. Nothing. It was just what he had
+expected. But there had always been the off-chance that one of the
+specialists could come up with a new approach. They hadn't, they were
+all too busy specializing.
+
+Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance guard had been told to
+let in anyone who came asking for the director. There was nothing else
+Brion could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact. Irritation bit at
+him. At least Lea was doing something constructive, he could look in on
+her.
+
+He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of pleasant anticipation.
+It froze and shattered instantly. Her microscope was hooded and she was
+gone. _She's having dinner_, he thought, _or--she's in the hospital_.
+The hospital was on the floor below and he went there first.
+
+"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where else should a girl in
+her condition be? She was out of bed long enough today. Tomorrow's the
+last day, and if you want to get any more work out of her before the
+deadline, you have better let her rest tonight. Better let the whole
+staff rest. I've been handing out tranquilizers like aspirin all day.
+They're falling apart."
+
+"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"
+
+"Considering her shape she's fine. Go in and see for yourself if you
+won't take my word for it. I have other patients to look at."
+
+"Are you that worried, doctor?"
+
+"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the ills of the flesh as the rest
+of you. We're sitting on a ticking bomb and I don't like it. I'll do my
+job as long as it is necessary, but I'll also be glad to see the ships
+land to pull us out. The only skin that I really feel emotionally
+concerned about right now is my own. And if you want to be let in on a
+public secret--the rest of your staff feels the same way. So don't look
+forward to too much efficiency."
+
+"I never did," Brion said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light of Dis' moon slanting
+in the window. Brion let himself in and closed the door behind him.
+Walking quietly he went over to the bed. She was sleeping soundly, her
+breathing gentle and regular. A night's sleep now would do as much good
+as all the medication.
+
+He should have gone then, instead he sat down in the chair placed next
+to the head of the bed. The guards knew where he was, he could wait here
+just as well as any place else.
+
+It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the brink of destruction.
+He was grateful for it. Everything looked less harsh in the moonlight
+and he rubbed some of the tension from his eyes. Lea's face was ironed
+smooth by the light, beautiful and young; a direct contrast to
+everything else on this poisonous world. Her hand was outside of the
+covers and he took it in his own, obeying a sudden impulse. Looking out
+of the window at the desert in the distance, he let the peace wash over
+him, forcing himself to forget for the moment that in one more day life
+would be stripped from this planet.
+
+Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her eyes were open, though
+she hadn't moved. How long had she been awake? He jerked his hand away
+from hers, feeling suddenly guilty.
+
+"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if they're fit for the
+treadmill in the morning?" she asked. It was the kind of remark she had
+used with such frequency in the ship, though it didn't sound quite as
+harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it reminded him too well of her
+superior attitude towards the rubes from the stellar sticks. Here he
+might be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be only one more
+gaping yokel.
+
+"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating the triteness of the
+words, even as he said them.
+
+"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a piece of fruit from that
+bowl, will you? My mouth tastes like an old boot heel. Wonder how fresh
+fruit ever got here? Probably a gift to the working classes from the
+smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord," she took the apple Brion gave
+her and bit into it. "Did you ever think of going to Earth?"
+
+Brion was startled, this was too close to his own thoughts about
+planetary backgrounds. There couldn't possibly be a connection though.
+"Never," he told her. "Up until a few months ago I never even considered
+leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a big thing at home that it is
+hard to imagine that anything else exists while you are still taking
+part in them."
+
+"Spare me the Twenties," she pleaded. "After listening to you and Ihjel
+I know far more about them than I shall ever care to know. But what
+about Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states like Earth?"
+
+"Nothing like that. For its size it has a very small population. No big
+cities at all. I guess the largest centers of population are around the
+schools, packing plants, things like that."
+
+"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's eternal ability to
+make any general topic personal.
+
+"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't know for sure. And
+you must realize that when I say no big cities, I also mean no little
+cities. We aren't organized that way at all. I imagine the basic
+physical unit is family and the circle of friends. Friends get important
+quickly since the family breaks up when children are still relatively
+young. Something in the genes I suppose, we all enjoy being alone.
+Suppose you might call it an inbred survival trait."
+
+"Up to a point," she said, biting delicately into the apple. "Carry that
+sort of thing too far and you end up with no population at all. A
+certain amount of proximity is necessary for that."
+
+"Of course there is. And there must be some form of recognized
+relationship or control--that or complete promiscuity. On Anvhar the
+emphasis is on personal responsibility, and that seems to take care of
+the problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at ... things,
+our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals are brought together
+either by accident or design, and with this proximity must be some
+certainty of relations--"
+
+"You're losing me," Lea protested. "Either I'm still foggy from the dope
+or you are suddenly unable to speak a word of less than four syllables
+in length. You know--whenever this happens with you I get the distinct
+impression that you are trying to cover up something. For Occam's sake
+be specific! Bring together two of these hypothetical individuals and
+tell me what happens."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head and far from shore.
+"Well--take a bachelor like myself. Since I like cross-country skiing I
+make my home in this big house our family has, right at the edge of the
+Broken Hills. In summer I looked after a drumtum herd, but after
+slaughtering my time was my own all winter. I did a lot of skiing, and
+used to work for the Twenties. Sometimes I would go visiting. Then
+again, people would drop in on me--houses are few and far between on
+Anvhar. We don't even have locks on our front doors. You accept and give
+hospitality without qualification. Whoever comes. Male--female--in
+groups or just traveling alone--"
+
+"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl on your iceberg
+planet, she must surely have to stay home a lot."
+
+"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever she wishes and be
+welcomed as another individual. I suppose it is out of fashion in the
+rest of the galaxy--and would probably raise a big laugh on Earth--but a
+platonic, disinterested friendship between man and woman is an accepted
+thing on Anvhar."
+
+"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool and distant friends,
+what keeps your birthrate going?"
+
+Brion felt his ears flushing, not quite sure if he was being teased or
+not. "There are plenty of happy marriages. But it is up to the woman
+always to indicate if she is interested in a man. A girl who isn't
+interested won't get any proposals. I imagine this is a lot different
+from other planets--but so is our world. The system works well enough
+for us."
+
+"Just about the opposite of Earth," Lea told him, dropping the apple
+core into a dish and carefully licking the tips of her fingers. "I guess
+you Anvharians would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed of sin. The
+reverse of your system, and going full blast all the time. There are far
+too many people there for comfort. Birth control came late and is still
+being fought--if you can possibly imagine that. There are just too many
+crack-brained ideas that have been long entrenched in custom. The
+world's overcrowded. Men, women, children, a boiling mob wherever you
+look. And all of the physically mature ones seem to be involved in the
+Great Game of Love. The male is always the aggressor, and women take the
+most outrageous kinds of flattery for granted. At parties these are
+always a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning your neck. A girl has
+to keep her spike heels filed sharp."
+
+"She has to _what_--?"
+
+"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back all the time, if you
+don't want to be washed under by the flood."
+
+"Sounds rather"--Brion weighed the word before he said it, but could
+find none other suitable--"repellent."
+
+"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid we get so used to it
+that we even take it for granted. Sociologically speaking--" She stopped
+and looked at Brion's straight back and almost rigid posture. Her eyes
+widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken _oh_ of sudden realization.
+
+"I'm being a fool," she said. "You weren't speaking generally at all!
+You had a very specific subject in mind. Namely _me_!"
+
+"Please, Lea, you must understand--"
+
+"But I do!" she laughed. "All the time I thought you were being a frigid
+and hard-hearted lump of ice, you were really being very sweet. Just
+playing the game in good old Anvharian style. Waiting for a sign from
+me. We'd still be playing by different rules if you hadn't had more
+sense than I, and finally realized that somewhere along the line we must
+have got our signals mixed. And I thought you were some kind of frosty
+offworld celibate." She let her hand go out and her fingers rustled
+through his hair. Something she had been wanting to do for a long time.
+
+"I had to," he said, trying to ignore the light touch of her fingers.
+"Because I thought so much of you, I couldn't have done anything to
+insult you. Until I began to worry where the insult would lie, since I
+knew nothing about your planet's mores."
+
+"Well you know now," she said very softly. "The men aggress. Now that I
+understand, I think I like your way better. But I'm still not sure of
+all the rules. Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you so very much?
+You are more man, in one great big wide shouldered lump, than I have
+ever met before--"
+
+His arms were around her, holding her to him, and their lips sought each
+other's in the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+"He wouldn't come in, sir. Just hammered on the door and said, _I'm
+here, tell Brandd_."
+
+"Good enough," Brion said, seating his gun in the holster and sliding
+the extra clips into his pocket. "I'm going out now, and I should return
+before dawn. Get one of the wheeled stretchers down here from the
+hospital. I'll want it waiting when I get back."
+
+Outside the street was darker than he remembered. Brion frowned and his
+hand moved towards his gun. Someone had put all the nearby lights out of
+commission. There was just enough illumination from the stars to enable
+him to make out the dark bulk of a sandcar.
+
+The motor roared as soon as he had closed the door. Without lights the
+sandcar churned a path through the city and out into the desert. Though
+the speed picked up, the driver still drove in the dark, feeling his way
+with a light touch on the controls. The ground rose, and when they
+reached the top of a flat mesa he killed the engine. Neither the driver
+nor Brion had spoken a word since they left.
+
+A switch snapped and the instrument lights came on. In their dim glow
+Brion could just make out the other man's hawklike profile. When he
+moved Brion saw that his figure was cruelly shortened. Either accident
+or a mutated gene had warped his spine, hunching him forward in
+eternally bent supplication. Warped bodies are rare--his was the first
+Brion had ever seen. He wondered what series of events had kept him from
+medical attention all his life. This might explain the bitterness and
+pain in the man's voice.
+
+"Did the mighty brains on Nyjord bother to tell you that they have
+chopped another day off the deadline? That this world is about to come
+to an end?"
+
+"Yes, I know," Brion said. "That's why I'm asking your group for help.
+Our time is running out too fast."
+
+The man didn't answer, merely grunted and gave his full attention to the
+radar pings and glowing screen. The electronic senses reached out as he
+made a check on all the search frequencies to see if they were being
+followed.
+
+"Where are we going?" Brion asked.
+
+"Out into the desert," the driver made a vague wave of his hand.
+"Headquarters of the army. Since the whole thing will be blown up in
+another day, I guess I can tell you it's the only camp we have. All the
+cars, men and weapons are based there. And Hys. He's the man in charge.
+Tomorrow it will be all gone--along with this cursed planet. What's your
+business with us?"
+
+"Shouldn't I be telling Hys that?"
+
+"Suit yourself." Satisfied with the instrument search the driver kicked
+the car to life again and churned on across the desert. "But we're a
+volunteer army and we have no secrets from each other. Just from the
+fools at home who are going to kill this world." There was a bitterness
+in his words that he made no attempt to conceal. "They fought among
+themselves and put off a firm decision so long that now they are forced
+to commit murder."
+
+"From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around. They
+call your Nyjord Army terrorists."
+
+"We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists at home
+only understood that when it was too late. If they had backed us in the
+beginning, we would have blown open every black castle on Dis--searched
+until we found those bombs. But that would have meant wanton destruction
+and death. They wouldn't consider that. Now they are going to kill
+everyone, destroy everything." He flicked on the panel lights just long
+enough to take a compass bearing, and Brion saw the tortured unhappiness
+in his twisted body.
+
+"It's not over yet," Brion said. "There is more than a day left, and I
+think I'm onto something that might stop the war--without any bombs
+being dropped."
+
+"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread and Blankets
+Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do when the shooting
+starts?"
+
+"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying to
+insult me--don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high."
+
+The driver just grunted at this, slowing down as they ran through a
+field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked.
+
+"We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Alive or
+dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to have one
+around?"
+
+"No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their home
+grounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours. What
+good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where the bombs or
+the jump-space projector is."
+
+"I don't see why I should explain that to you--unless you are in charge.
+You are Hys, aren't you?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The driver grunted angrily and was silent while he drove. Finally he
+asked, "What makes you think that?"
+
+"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sandcar driver for one
+thing. Of course your army may be all generals and no privates--but I
+doubt it. I also know that time has almost run out for all of us. This
+is a long ride and it would be a complete waste of time if you just sat
+out in the desert and waited for me. By driving me yourself you could
+make your mind up before we arrived. Have a decision ready whether you
+are going to help me or not. Are you?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Yes--I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What do you
+want the body for?"
+
+"We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't think the
+magter are human. They are something living among men and disguised as
+men--but still not human."
+
+"Secret aliens?" Hys exploded the words in a mixture of surprise and
+disgust.
+
+"Perhaps. The examination will tell us that."
+
+"You're either stupid or incompetent," Hys said bitterly. "The heat of
+Dis has cooked your brains in your head. I'll be no part of this kind of
+absurd plan."
+
+"You must," Brion said, surprised at his own calmness. He could sense
+the other man's interest hidden behind his insulting manner. "I don't
+even have to give you my reasons. In another day this world ends and you
+have no way to stop it. I just might have an idea that could work and
+you can't afford to take any chances--not if you are really sincere.
+Either you are a murderer, killing Disans for pleasure, or you honestly
+want to stop the war. Which is it?"
+
+"You'll have your body all right," Hys grated, hurling the car viciously
+around a spire of rock. "Not that it will accomplish anything--but I can
+find no fault in killing another magter. We can fit your operation into
+our plans without any trouble. This is the last night and I have sent
+every one of my teams out on raids. We're breaking into as many magter
+towers as possible before dawn. There is a slim chance that we might
+uncover something. It's really just shooting in the dark, but it's all
+we can do now. My own team is waiting and you can ride along with us.
+The others left earlier. We're going to hit a small tower on this side
+of the city. We raided it once before and captured a lot of small arms
+that they had stored there. There is a good chance that they may have
+been stupid enough to store something there again. Sometimes the magter
+seem to suffer from a complete lack of imagination."
+
+"You have no idea just how right you are," Brion told him.
+
+The sandcar slowed down now, as they approached a slab-sided mesa that
+rose vertically from the desert. They crunched across broken rocks,
+leaving no tracks. A light blinked on the dashboard and Hys stopped
+instantly and killed the engine. They climbed out, stretching and
+shivering in the cold desert night.
+
+It was dark walking in the shadow of the cliff and they had to feel
+their way along a path through the tumbled boulders. A sudden blaze of
+light made Brion wince and shield his eyes. Near him, on the ground, was
+the humming shape of a cancellation projector, sending out a fan-shaped
+curtain of vibration that absorbed all the light rays falling upon it.
+This incredible blackness made a lightproof wall for the recessed hollow
+at the foot of the cliff. In this shelter, under the overhang of rock,
+were three open sandcars. They were large and armor-plated, warlike in
+their scarred gray paint. Men sprawled, talked and polished their
+weapons. Everything stopped when Hys and Brion appeared.
+
+"Load up," Hys called out. "We're going to attack now, same plan I
+outlined earlier. Get Telt over here." Talking to his own men some of
+the harshness was gone from his voice. The tall soldiers of Nyjord
+moved in ready obedience to the commander. They loomed over his bent
+figure, most of them twice as tall as him. Yet there was no hesitation
+in jumping when he commanded. They were the body of the Nyjord striking
+force--he was the brains.
+
+A square-cut, compact man rolled up to Hys and saluted with a leisurely
+flick of his hand. He was weighted and slung about with packs and
+electronic instruments. His pockets bulged with small tools.
+
+"This is Telt," Hys said to Brion, "he'll take care of you. Telt's my
+personal technical squad. Goes along on all my operations with his
+meters to test the interiors of the Disan forts. So far he's found no
+trace of a jump-space generator, or excess radioactivity that might
+indicate a bomb. Since he's useless and you're useless, you can both
+take care of each other. Use the car we came in."
+
+Telt's wide face split in a frog-like grin, his voice was hoarse and
+throaty. "Wait! Just wait! Some day those needles gonna flicker and all
+our troubles be over. What you want me to do with the stranger?"
+
+"Supply him with a corpse--one of the magter," Hys said. "Take it where
+he wants and then report back here." Hys scowled at Telt. "Some day your
+needles will flicker! Poor fool--this is the last day." He turned away
+and waved the men into their sandcars.
+
+"He likes me," Telt said, attaching a final piece of equipment. "You can
+tell because he calls me names like that. He's a great man, Hys is, but
+they never found out until it was too late. Hand me that meter, will
+you?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion followed the technician out to the car and helped him load his
+equipment aboard. When the larger cars appeared out of the darkness,
+Telt swung around after them. They snaked forward in a single line
+through the rocks, until they came to the desert of rolling sand dunes.
+Then they spread out in line abreast and rushed towards their goal.
+
+Telt hummed to himself hoarsely as he drove. He broke off suddenly and
+looked at Brion. "What you want the dead Dis for?"
+
+"A theory," Brion answered sluggishly. He had been half napping in the
+chair, taking the opportunity for some rest before the attack. "I'm
+still looking for a way to avert the end."
+
+"You and Hys," Telt said with satisfaction. "Couple of idealists. Trying
+to stop a war you didn't start. They never would listen to Hys. He told
+them in the beginning exactly what would happen, and he was right. They
+always thought his ideas were crooked, like him. Growing up alone in the
+hill camp, with his back too twisted and too old to be fixed when he
+finally did come out. Ideas twisted the same way. Made himself an
+authority on war. Hah! War on Nyjord. That's like being an icecube
+specialist in hell. But he knew all about it, but they never would let
+him use what he knew. Put granddaddy Krafft in charge instead."
+
+"But Hys is in charge of an army now?"
+
+"All volunteers, too few of them and too little money. Too little and
+too damned late to do any good. I'll never be good enough. And for this
+we get called butchers." There was a catch in Telt's voice now, an
+undercurrent of emotion he couldn't suppress. "At home they think we
+like to kill. Think we're insane. They can't understand we're doing the
+only thing that has to be done--" He broke off as he quickly locked on
+the brakes and killed the engine. The line of sandcars had come to a
+stop. Ahead, just visible over the dunes, was the summit of a dark
+tower.
+
+"We walk from here," Telt said, standing and stretching. "We can take
+our time because the other boys go in first, soften things up. Then you
+and I head for the sub-cellar for a radiation check and find you a
+handsome corpse."
+
+Walking at first, then crawling when the dunes no longer shielded them,
+they crept up on the Disan keep. Dark figures moved ahead of them,
+stopping only when they reached the crumbling black walls. They didn't
+use the ascending ramp, but made their way up the sheer outside face of
+the ramparts.
+
+"Linethrowers," Telt whispered. "Anchor themselves when the missile
+hits, have some kind of quicksetting goo. Then we go up the filament
+with a line-climbing motor. Hys invented them."
+
+"Is that the way you and I are going in?" Brion asked.
+
+"No, we get out of the climbing. I told you we hit this rock once
+before. I know the layout inside." He was moving while he talked,
+carefully pacing the distance around the base of the tower. "Should be
+right about here."
+
+High-pitched keening sliced the air and the top of the magter building
+burst into flame. Automatic weapons hammered above them. Something fell
+silently through the night and hit heavily on the ground near them.
+
+"Attack's started," Telt shouted. "We have to get through now, while all
+the creepies are fighting it out on top." He pulled a plate-shaped
+object from one of his bags and slapped it hard against the wall. It
+hung there. He twisted the back of it, pulled something and waved Brion
+to the ground. "Shaped charge. Should blow straight in, but you never
+can tell."
+
+The ground jumped under them and the ringing thud was a giant fist
+punching through the wall. A cloud of dust and smoke rolled clear and
+they could see the dark opening in the rock, a tunnel driven into the
+wall by the directional force of the explosion. Telt shone a light
+through the hole at the crumbled chamber inside.
+
+"Nothing to worry about from anybody who was leaning against this wall.
+But let's get in and out of this black beehive before the ones upstairs
+come down to investigate."
+
+Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they skidded and tumbled over
+it. Telt pointed the way with his light, down a sharply angled ramp.
+"Underground chambers in the rock. They always store their stuff down
+there--"
+
+A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's mouth, hitting at
+their feet. Telt just gaped, but even as it hit the floor Brion was
+jumping forward. He caught it with the side of his foot, kicking it back
+into the dark opening of the tunnel. Telt hit the ground next to him as
+the orange flame of an explosion burst below. Bits of shrapnel rattled
+from the ceiling and wall behind them.
+
+"Grenades!" Telt gasped. "They only used them once before--can't have
+many. Gotta warn Hys." He plugged a throat mike into the transmitter on
+his back and spoke quickly into it. There was a stirring below and Brion
+poured a rain of fire into the tunnel.
+
+"They're catching it bad on top, too! We gotta pull out. Go first and
+I'll cover you."
+
+"I came for my Disan--I'm not leaving until I get one."
+
+"You're crazy! You're dead if you stay!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Telt was scrambling back towards their crumbled entrance as he talked.
+His back was turned when Brion fired. The magter appeared silently as
+the shadow of death. They charged without a sound, running with
+expressionless faces into the bullets. Two died at once, curling and
+folding, the third one fell at Brion's feet. Shot, pierced, dying, but
+not yet dead. Leaving a crimson track it hunched closer, lifting its
+knife to Brion. He didn't move. How many times must you murder a man?
+Or was it a man. His mind and body rebelled against the killing and was
+almost ready to accept death himself, rather than kill again.
+
+Telt's bullets tore through the body and it dropped with grim finality.
+
+"There's your corpse--now get it out of here!" Telt screeched.
+
+Between them they worked the sodden weight of the dead magter through
+the hole, their exposed backs crawling with the expectation of instant
+death. There were no more attacks as they ran from the tower, other than
+a grenade that exploded too far behind them to do any harm.
+
+One of the armored sandcars circled the keep, headlights blazing,
+keeping up a steady fire from its heavy weapons. The attackers climbed
+into it as they beat a retreat. Telt and Brion dragged the Disan behind
+them, struggling through the loose sand toward the circling car. Telt
+glanced over his shoulder and broke into a shambling run.
+
+"They're following us--!" he gasped. "The first time they ever chased us
+after a raid!"
+
+"They must know we have the body," Brion said.
+
+"Leave it behind--!" Telt choked. "Too heavy to carry ... anyway!"
+
+"I'd rather leave you," Brion snapped. "Let me have it." He pulled the
+corpse away from the unresisting Telt and heaved it across his
+shoulders. "Now use your gun to cover us!"
+
+Telt threw a rain of slugs back towards the dark figures following
+them. The driver must have seen the flare of their fire, because the
+truck turned and started towards them. It braked in a choking cloud of
+dust and ready hands reached to pull them up. Brion pushed the body in
+ahead of himself and scrambled after it. The truck engine throbbed and
+they churned away into the blackness, away from the gutted tower.
+
+"You know, that was more like kind of a joke, when I said I'd leave the
+corpse behind," Telt told Brion. "You didn't believe me, did you?"
+
+"Yes," Brion said, holding the dead weight of the magter against the
+truck's side. "I thought you meant it."
+
+"Ahhh--" Telt grumbled. "You're as bad as Hys. Take things too
+seriously."
+
+Brion suddenly realized that he was wet with blood, his clothing sodden.
+His stomach rose at the thought and he clutched the edge of the sandcar.
+Killing like this was too personal. Talking abstractedly about a body
+was one thing. But murdering a man, then lifting his dead flesh and
+feeling his blood warm upon you is an entirely different matter. Yet the
+magter weren't human, he knew that. The thought was only mildly
+comforting.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After they had reached the rest of the waiting sandcars, the raiding
+party split up. "Each one goes in a different direction," Telt said, "so
+they can't track us to the base." He clipped a piece of paper next to
+the compass and kicked the motor into life. "We'll make a big _U_ in the
+desert and end up in Hovedstad, I got the course here. Then I'll dump
+you and your friend and beat it back to our camp. You're not still
+burned at me for what I said, are you? Are you?"
+
+Brion didn't answer. He was staring fixedly out of the side window.
+"What's doing?" Telt asked. Brion pointed out at the rushing darkness.
+
+"Over there," he said, pointing to the growing light on the horizon.
+
+"Dawn," Telt said. "Lotta rain on your planet? Didn't you ever see the
+sun come up before?"
+
+"Not on the last day of a world."
+
+"Lock it up," Telt grumbled. "You give me the crawls. I know they're
+going to be blasted. But at least I know I did everything I could to
+stop it. How do you think they are going to be feeling at home--on
+Nyjord--from tomorrow on?"
+
+"Maybe we can still stop it?" Brion said, shrugging off the feeling of
+gloom, Telt's only answer was a wordless sound of disgust.
+
+By the time they had cut a large loop in the desert the sun was high in
+the sky, the daily heat begun. Their course took them through a chain of
+low, flinty hills that cut their speed almost to zero. They ground ahead
+in low gear while Telt sweated and cursed, struggling with the controls.
+Then they were on firm sand and picking up speed towards the city.
+
+As soon as Brion saw Hovedstad clearly he felt a clutch of fear. From
+somewhere in the city a black plume of smoke was rising. It could have
+been one of the deserted buildings aflame, a minor blaze. Yet the closer
+they came, the greater the tension grew. Brion didn't dare put it into
+words himself, it was Telt who vocalized the thought.
+
+"A fire or something. Coming from your area, somewhere close to your
+building."
+
+Within the city they saw the first signs of destruction. Broken rubble
+on the streets. The smell of greasy smoke in their nostrils. More and
+more people appeared, going in the same direction they were. The
+normally deserted streets of Hovedstad were now almost crowded. Disans,
+obvious by their bare shoulders, mixed with the few offworlders who
+still remained.
+
+Brion made sure the tarpaulin was well wrapped around the body before
+they pushed slowly through the growing crowd.
+
+"I don't like all this publicity," Telt complained, looking at the
+people. "It's the last day, or I'd be turning back. They know our cars,
+we've raided them often enough." Turning a corner he braked suddenly.
+
+Ahead was destruction. Black, broken rubble had been churned into
+desolation. It was still smoking, pink tongues of flame licking over the
+ruins. A fragment of wall fell with a rumbling crash.
+
+"It's your building--the Foundation building!" Telt shouted. "They've
+been here ahead of us, must have used the radio to call a raid. They did
+a job, explosive of some kind."
+
+Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead, mixed and broken with
+the other rubble, were the bodies of all the people who had trusted him.
+Lea. Beautiful and cruelly dead Lea. Dr. Stine, his patients, Faussel,
+all of them. He had kept them on this planet and now they were dead.
+Every one of them. Dead.
+
+Murderer!
+
+[Illustration: Illustrated by van Dongen]
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Life was ended. Brion's mind contained nothing but despair and the pain
+of irretrievable loss. If his brain had been complete master of his body
+he would have died there, for at that moment there was no will to live.
+Unaware of this his heart continued to beat and the regular motion of
+his lungs drew in the dreadful sweetness of the smoke-tainted air. With
+automatic directness his body lived on.
+
+"What you gonna do?" Telt asked, even his natural exuberation stilled by
+this. Brion only shook his head as the words penetrated. What could he
+do? What could possibly be done?
+
+"Follow me," a voice said in guttural Disan through the opening of a
+rear window. The speaker was lost in the crowd before they could turn.
+Aware now, Brion saw a native move away from the edge of the crowd and
+turn in their direction. It was Ulv.
+
+"Turn the car--that way!" He punched Telt's arm and pointed. "Do it
+slowly and don't draw any attention to us." There was sudden hope,
+which he kept himself from considering. The building was gone and the
+people in it all dead. That fact had to be faced.
+
+"What's going on?" Telt asked. "Who was that talked in the window?"
+
+"A native--that one up ahead. He saved my life in the desert, and I
+think he is on our side. Even though he's a native Disan, he can
+understand facts that the magter can't. He knows what will happen to
+this planet." Brion was talking, filling his brain with words so he
+wouldn't begin to have hope.
+
+Ulv moved slowly and naturally through the streets, never looking back.
+They followed, as far behind as they dared, yet still keeping him in
+sight. There were fewer people about here among the deserted offworld
+storehouses. Ulv vanished into one, LIGHT METALS TRUST LTD. the sign
+read above the door. Telt slowed the car.
+
+"Don't stop here," Brion said. "Drive on around the corner, and pull
+up."
+
+Brion climbed out of the car with an ease he did not feel. There was no
+one in sight now, in either direction. Walking slowly back to the corner
+he checked the street they had just left--hot, silent and empty!
+
+A sudden blackness appeared where the door of the warehouse had been,
+and the sudden flickering motion of a hand. Brion signaled Telt to
+start, and jumped into the already moving sandcar.
+
+"Into that open door--quickly before anyone sees us!" The car rumbled
+down a ramp into the dark interior and the door slid shut behind them.
+
+"Ulv. What is it? Where are you?" Brion called, blinking in the murky
+interior. A gray form appeared next to him.
+
+"I am here."
+
+"Did you--" There was no way to finish the sentence.
+
+"I heard of the raid. The magter called together all of us they could to
+help them carry explosives. I went along. I could not stop them and
+there was no time to warn anyone in the building."
+
+"Then they are all dead--?"
+
+"Yes," Ulv nodded, "all except one. I knew I could possibly save one,
+and I was not sure who. So I took the woman you were with in the desert,
+she is here now. She was hurt, but not badly, when I brought her out."
+
+Guilty relief flooded through Brion. He shouldn't exult, not with the
+death of everyone in the Foundation still fresh in his mind. But at that
+instant he was happy.
+
+"May I see her?" he asked Ulv. He was seized by the sudden fear that
+there might be a mistake. Perhaps Ulv had saved a different girl.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ulv led the way across the empty loading bay. Brion followed closely,
+fighting down the temptation to tell him to hurry. When he saw that Ulv
+was heading towards an office in the far wall, he could control himself
+no longer and ran on ahead.
+
+It was Lea, lying unconscious on a couch. Sweat beaded her face and she
+moaned and stirred without opening her eyes.
+
+"I gave her _sover_, then wrapped her in cloth so no one would know,"
+Ulv said.
+
+Telt was close behind them looking in through the open door.
+
+"_Sover_ is a drug they take from one of their plants," he said. "We got
+a lot of experience with it. A little makes a good knock-out drug, but
+it's deadly poison in large doses. I got the antidote in the car, wait
+and I'll get it." He went out.
+
+Brion sat next to Lea and wiped her face clean of dirt and perspiration.
+The dark shadows under her eyes were almost black now and her elfin face
+even thinner. Yet she was alive, that was the important thing. Some of
+the tension drained away and he could think again. There was still the
+job to do. After this last experience she should be in a hospital bed.
+Yet this was impossible. He had to drag her to her feet and put her back
+to work. The answer might still be found. Each second ticked away
+another fraction of the planet's life.
+
+"Good as new in a minute," Telt said, banging down the heavy medbox. He
+watched intently as Ulv left the room. "Hys should know about this
+renegade. Might be useful as a spy or for information. Of course it's
+too late now to do anything, so the hell with it." He pulled a
+pistol-shaped hypodermic gun from the box and dialed a number on the
+side. "Now, if you'll roll her sleeve up I'll bring her back to life."
+He pressed the bell-shaped sterilizing muzzle against her skin and
+pulled the trigger. The hypo gun hummed briefly, ending its cycle with a
+large click.
+
+"Does it work fast?" Brion asked.
+
+"Couple of minutes. Just let her be and she'll come to by herself."
+
+"Killer!" Ulv hissed from the doorway. His blowgun was in his hand, half
+raised to his mouth.
+
+"He's been in the car--he's seen it!" Telt shouted and grabbed for his
+gun.
+
+Brion sprang between them, raising his hands. "Stop it! No more
+killing!" he shouted this in Disan. Then he shook his fist at Telt.
+"Fire that gun and I'll stuff it down your throat. I'll handle this." He
+turned to face Ulv who hadn't raised the blowgun any closer to his lips.
+This was a good sign. The Disan was still uncertain.
+
+"You have seen the body in the car, Ulv. So you must have seen that it
+is that of a magter. I killed him myself, because I would rather kill
+one, ten or even a hundred men rather than have everyone on this planet
+destroyed. I killed him in a fair fight and now I am going to examine
+his body. There is something very strange and different about the
+magter, you know that yourself. If I can find out what it is, perhaps we
+can make them stop this war, and not bomb Nyjord."
+
+Ulv was still angry, yet he lowered the blowgun a little. "I wish there
+were no offworlders, that none of you had ever come. Nothing was wrong
+until you started coming. The magter were the strongest, and they
+killed, but they also helped. Now they want to fight a war with your
+weapons and for this you are going to kill my world. And you want me to
+help you?"
+
+"Not me--yourself!" Brion said wearily. "There's no going back, that's
+the one thing we can't do. Maybe Dis would have been better off without
+offplanet contact. Maybe not. In any case you have to forget about that.
+You have contact now with the rest of the galaxy, for better or for
+worse. You've got a problem to solve, and I'm here to help you solve
+it."
+
+Seconds ticked by as Ulv, unmoving, fought with questions that were
+novel to his life. Could killing stop death? Could he help his people by
+helping strangers to fight and kill them? His world had changed and he
+didn't like it. He must make a giant effort to change with it.
+
+Abruptly, he pushed the blowgun into a thong at his waist, turned and
+strode out.
+
+"Too much for my nerves," Telt said, settling his gun back in the
+holster. "You don't know how happy I'm gonna be when this thing is over.
+Even if the planet goes bang, I don't care. I'm finished." He walked out
+to the sandcar, keeping a careful eye on the Disan crouched against the
+wall.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion turned back to Lea whose eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
+He went to her.
+
+"Running," she said, and her voice had a toneless emptiness that
+screamed louder than any emotion. "They ran by the open door of my room
+and I could see them when they killed Dr. Stine. Just butchered him
+like an animal, chopping him down. Then one came into the room and
+that's all I remember." She turned her head slowly and looked at Brion.
+"What happened? Why am I here?"
+
+"They're ... dead," he told her. "All of them. After the raid the Disans
+blew up the building. You're the only one that survived. That was Ulv
+who came into your room, the Disan we met in the desert. He brought you
+away and hid you here in the city."
+
+"When do we leave?" she said, in the same empty tones, turning her face
+to the wall. "When do we get off this planet?"
+
+"Today is the last day. The deadline is midnight. Krafft will have a
+ship pick us up when we are ready. But we still have our job to do. I've
+got that body. You're going to have to examine it. We must find out
+about the magter--"
+
+"Nothing can be done now except leave," her voice was a dull monotone.
+"There is only so much that a person can do and I've done it. Please
+have the ship come, I want to leave now."
+
+Brion chewed his lip in helpless frustration. Nothing seemed to be able
+to penetrate the apathy she had sunk into. Too much shock, too much
+terror, in too short a time. He took her chin in his hand and turned her
+head to face him. She didn't resist, but her eyes were shining with
+tears, tears trickled down her cheeks.
+
+"Take me home, Brion, please take me home."
+
+He could only brush her sodden hair back from her face then and force
+himself to smile at her. The particles of time were running out, faster
+and faster, and he no longer knew what to do. The examination had to be
+made. Yet he couldn't force her. He looked for the medbox and saw that
+Telt had taken it back to the sandcar. There might be something in it
+that could help. A tranquilizer perhaps.
+
+Telt had some of his instruments open on the chart table and was
+examining a tape with a pocket magnifier. He jumped nervously and put
+the tape behind his back when Brion entered, then relaxed when he saw
+who it was.
+
+"Thought you were the creepie out there, coming for a look," he
+whispered. "Maybe you trust him--but I can't afford to. Can't even use
+the radio. I'm getting out of here now, I have to tell Hys!"
+
+"Tell him what?" Brion asked sharply. "What is all the mystery about?"
+
+Telt handed him the magnifier and tape. "Look at that. Recording tape
+from my scintillation counter. Red verticals are five-minute intervals,
+the wiggly black horizontal line is the radioactivity level. All this
+where the line goes up and down, that's when we were driving out to the
+attack. Varying hot level of the rock and ground."
+
+"What's the big peak in the middle?"
+
+"That coincides exactly with our visit to the house of horrors! When we
+went through the hole in the bottom of the tower!" He couldn't keep the
+enthusiasm out of his voice.
+
+"Does it mean that--"
+
+"I don't know. I'm not sure. I have to compare it with the other tapes
+back at base. It could be the stone of the tower, some of these heavy
+rocks got a high natural count. There maybe could be a box of
+instruments there with fluorescent dials. Or it might be one of those
+tactical atom bombs they threw at us already, some arms runner sold them
+a few."
+
+"Or it could be the cobalt bombs?"
+
+"It could be," Telt said, packing his instruments swiftly. "A badly
+shielded bomb, or an old one with a crack in the skin, could give a
+trace like that. Just a little radon leaking out would do it."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Why don't you call Hys on the radio, let him know."
+
+"Don't want Grandaddy Krafft's listening posts to hear about it. This is
+our job--if I'm right. And I have to check my old tapes to make sure.
+But it's gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in my bones. Let's
+unload your corpse." He helped Brion, then slipped into the driver's
+seat.
+
+"Hold it," Brion said. "Do you have anything in the medbox I can use for
+Lea. She seems to have cracked. Not hysterical, but withdrawn. Won't
+listen to reason, won't do anything but lie there and ask to go home."
+
+"Got the potion here," Telt said, cracking the medbox.
+"Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it. Hit a lot of our boys.
+Grow up all your life hating the idea of violence, it goes rough when
+you have to start killing people. Guys breakup, breakdown, go to pieces
+lots of different ways. The medic mixed up this stuff. Don't know how it
+works, probably tranquilizers and some of the cortex drugs. But it peels
+off recent memories. Maybe for the last ten, twelve hours. You can't get
+upset about what you don't remember." He pulled out a sealed package.
+"Directions on the box. Good luck."
+
+"Luck," Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused hand. "Let me
+know if the traces are strong enough to be bombs." He checked the street
+to make sure it was clear, then pressed the door button. The sandcar
+churned out into the brilliant sunshine and was gone, the throb of it's
+motor dying in the distance. Brion closed the door and went back to Lea.
+Ulv was still crouched against the wall.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the box. Lea made no
+protest when he broke the seal and pressed the needle against her arm.
+She sighed and her eyes closed again. When he saw she was resting
+easily, he dragged in the tarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A
+workbench ran along one wall and he struggled the corpse up onto it. He
+unwrapped the tarpaulin and the sightless eyes stared accusingly up into
+his.
+
+Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, bloodsoaked clothing.
+Strapped under the clothes, around the man's waist, was the familiar
+collection of Disan artifacts. This could have significance either way.
+Human or humanoid, it would still have to live on Dis. Brion threw it
+aside, along with the rest of the clothing. Nude, pierced, bloody, the
+corpse lay before him.
+
+In every external physical detail the man was human.
+
+Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery. If
+the magter weren't alien, how could he explain their complete lack of
+emotions? A mutation of some kind? He didn't see how it was possible.
+There _had_ to be something alien, about the dead man before him. The
+future of a world rested on this flimsy hope. If Telt's lead to the
+bombs proved to be false, there would be no hope left at all.
+
+Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her. There was no way of
+telling how long the coma would last. He would probably have to waken
+her out of it, but didn't want to do it too early. It took an effort to
+control his impatience, even though he knew the drug needed time to work
+in. He finally decided on at least a minimum of an hour before he should
+try to disturb her. That would be noon--twelve hours before destruction.
+
+One thing he should do was get in touch with Professor-Commander Krafft.
+Maybe it was being defeatist, yet he had to make sure that they had a
+way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft had installed a relay
+radio that would forward calls from his personal set. If this relay had
+been in the Foundation building, contact was broken. This had to be
+found out before it was too late. He thumbed on his radio and sent the
+call. The reply came back instantly.
+
+"This is fleet communications. Will you please keep this circuit open?
+Commander Krafft is waiting for this call and it is being put directly
+through to him now." Krafft's voice broke in while the operator was
+still talking.
+
+"Who is making this call--is it anyone from the Foundation?" The old
+man's voice was shaky with emotion.
+
+"Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me--"
+
+"No more? Are there no other survivors from the disaster that destroyed
+your building?"
+
+"That's it, other than us it's a ... complete loss. With the building
+and all the instruments gone I have no way to contact our ship in orbit.
+Can you arrange to get us out of here if necessary?"
+
+"Give me your location, a ship is coming now--"
+
+"I don't need a ship now," Brion interrupted. "Don't send it until I
+call. If there is a way to stop your destruction, I'll find it. So I'm
+staying--to the last minute if necessary."
+
+Krafft was silent. There was just the crackle of an open mike and the
+sound of breathing. "That is your decision," he said finally. "I'll have
+a ship standing by. But won't you let us take Miss Morees out now?"
+
+"No. I need her here. We are still working, looking for--"
+
+"What answer can you find that could possibly avert destruction now?"
+His tone was between hope and despair. Brion couldn't help him.
+
+"If I succeed--you'll know. Otherwise, that will be the end of it. End
+of transmission." He switched the radio off.
+
+Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her, and there was still a
+good part of the hour left before he could wake her. How could he put it
+to use? She would need tools, instruments to examine the corpse, there
+were certainly none here. Perhaps there were some he could find in the
+ruins of the Foundation building. With this thought he had the sudden
+desire to see the wreckage up close, and talk to the men he had seen
+working there. There might be other survivors. He had to find out.
+
+Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer room. He looked up
+angrily when Brion came over, but said nothing.
+
+"Will you help me again?" Brion asked. "Stay and watch the girl while I
+go out. I'll be back at noon." Ulv didn't answer. "I am still looking
+for the way to save Dis," Brion said.
+
+"Go, I'll watch the girl!" Ulv spat the words in impotent fury. "I do
+not know what to do. You may be right. Go. She will be safe with me."
+
+Brion slipped out into the deserted street and half running, half
+walking, made his way towards the rubble that had been the Cultural
+Relationships Foundation. He used a different course than the one they
+had come by, striking first towards the outer edge of the city. Once
+there he could swing and approach from the other side, so there would be
+no indication where he had come from. The magter might be watching and
+he didn't want to lead them to Lea and the stolen body.
+
+Turning a corner he saw a sandcar stopped in the street ahead. There was
+something familiar about the lines of it. It could be the one he and
+Telt had used, but he wasn't sure. He looked around, but the dusty,
+packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering in silence under the
+sun. Staying close to the wall and watching carefully, Brion slipped
+towards the car. When he came close to the rear tracks he was positive
+it was the one he had been in the night before. What was it doing here?
+
+Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and doors were empty and
+there was no motion in their shadows. Putting his foot on a bogey wheel
+he reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of the open window. He
+pulled himself up and stared at Telt's smiling face.
+
+Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal the grinning teeth, the
+eyes bursting from the head, the features swollen and contorted from the
+deadly poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck innocently in the brown
+flesh on the side of his neck.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust and filth
+of the road. No poison dart sought him out, the empty silence still
+reigned. Telt's murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly, using the
+bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door and slipped inside.
+
+They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls had
+been battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushed
+equipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging like
+mechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver.
+
+It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car had been
+seen when they entered the city--probably by some of the magter who had
+destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen where it had gone,
+or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they must have spotted it when
+Telt tried to leave the city. And stopped it in the most effective way
+possible, a dart through the open window into the unsuspecting driver's
+neck.
+
+Telt dead. The brutal impact of the man's death had driven all thought
+of its consequences from Brion's mind. Now he began to realize. Telt had
+never sent word of his discovery of the radioactive trace to the Nyjord
+army. He had been afraid to use the radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in
+person, and to show him the tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed
+with all the others, the brain that could have analyzed it dead.
+
+Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for the
+door. Running swiftly and erratically he fled from the sandcar. His own
+survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on his not being seen
+near it. He must contact Hys and pass on the information. Until he did
+that he was the only offworlder on Dis who knew which magter tower might
+contain the world-destroying bombs.
+
+Once out of sight of the sandcar he went slower, wiping the sweat from
+his streaming face. He hadn't been seen leaving the car, and he wasn't
+being followed. The streets here weren't familiar, but he checked his
+direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pace towards the
+destroyed building. More of the native Disans were in the streets now.
+They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowled fiercely. With his
+empathic awareness he felt their anger and hatred. A knot of men
+radiated death and he put his hand on his gun as he passed them. Two of
+them had their blowguns ready, but didn't use them. By the time he had
+turned the next corner he was soaked with nervous perspiration.
+
+Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to it was
+the tapered form of a spacer's pinnace. Two men had come from the open
+lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage. The men turned
+quickly towards him, guns raised. Both of them carried ion-rifles. They
+relaxed when they saw his offworld clothes.
+
+"Savages," one of them growled. He was a heavyplanet man, a squashed
+down column of muscle and gristle, whose head barely reached Brion's
+chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed-sliderule symbol of ship's
+computer man.
+
+"Can't blame them, I guess," the second man said. He wore purser's
+insignia. His features were different, but with the same compacted body
+they were as physically alike as twins. Probably from the same home
+planet. "They gonna get their whole world blown from under them at
+midnight. Looks like the poor slob in the streets finally realized what
+is happening. Hope we're in jump-space by then. I saw Estrada's World
+get it and I don't want to see that again, not twice in one lifetime!"
+
+The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sideways to
+see his face. "You need transportation offworld?" he asked. "We're the
+last ship at the port, and we're going to boil out of here as soon as
+the rest of our cargo is aboard. Give you a lift if you need it."
+
+Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal the destroying
+sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at that shattered wasteland,
+the graveyard of so many. "No," he said. "That won't be necessary. I'm
+in touch with the blockading fleet and they'll pick me up before
+midnight."
+
+"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled.
+
+"No," Brion said, still only half aware of the men. "But there is
+trouble with my own ship." He realized that they were looking intently
+at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation. "I thought I could
+find a way to stop the war. Now ... I'm not so sure." He hadn't intended
+to be so frank with the spacemen, but the words had been topmost in his
+thoughts and had simply slipped out.
+
+The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate speared him
+in the side with his elbow. "We blast soon--and I don't like the way
+these Disans are looking at us. Captain said to find out what caused the
+fire, then get back. So let's go."
+
+"Don't miss your ship," the computer man said to Brion and started for
+the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. "Sure there's nothing we can
+do for you."
+
+Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregs of
+emotion from his mind and to think clearly. "You can help me," he said.
+"I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instruments you might
+have." Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt's undelivered
+message. "Do you have a portable radio transceiver--I can pay you for
+it."
+
+The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minute
+later with a small package. "There's a scalpel and a magnetized tweezers
+in here, all I could find in the medkit. Hope they'll do." He reached
+inside and swung out the metal case of a self-contained transceiver.
+"Take this, it's got plenty of range, even on the longer frequencies."
+He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation," he said. "If
+you can save this planet, I'll give you the whole pinnace as well. We'll
+tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble with the natives.
+Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the purser in the chest with a
+finger that would have punched a hole in a weaker man.
+
+"I read you loud and clear," the purser said. "I'll make out an invoice
+so stating, back in the ship." They were both in the pinnace then, and
+Brion had to move fast to get clear of the take-off blast.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sense of obligation, the spacemen had felt it too. The realization of
+this raised Brion's spirits a bit as he searched through the rubble for
+anything useful. He recognized part of a wall still standing as a corner
+of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins he unearthed broken
+instruments and a single, battered case that had barely missed
+destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, the right tube bent,
+its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece still seemed to be
+functioning. Brion carefully put it back in the case. He looked at his
+watch.
+
+It was almost noon. These few pieces of equipment would have to do for
+the dissection. Watched suspiciously by the onlooking Disans, he started
+back to the warehouse. It was a long, circuitous walk, since he didn't
+dare give any clues to his destination. Only when he was positive he had
+not been observed or followed did he slip through the building's
+entrance, locking it behind him.
+
+Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. "A friendly
+smile here among the cannibals," she called. Her strained expression
+gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. "What has happened? Since I
+woke up, the great stone face over there," she pointed to Ulv, "has been
+telling me exactly nothing."
+
+"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion asked carefully. He
+didn't want to tell her too much, less this bring on the shock again.
+Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her.
+
+"If you must know," Lea said, "I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd. I
+shan't go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept from the
+natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep after you
+left. And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep in that lumpy
+hospital bed and woke up on this couch. Feeling simply terrible. With
+_him_ just simply sitting there and scowling at me. Won't you please
+tell me what is going on?"
+
+A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he could for
+later. "The magter attacked the Foundation building," he said. "They are
+getting angry at all offworlders now. You were still knocked out by a
+sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It's afternoon now--"
+
+"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While I'm playing sleeping
+beauty the world is coming to an end. Was anyone hurt in the attack? Or
+killed?"
+
+"There were a number of casualties--and plenty of trouble," Brion said.
+He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse he threw
+back the cover from its face. "But this is more important right now.
+It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some other things
+here--will you perform an autopsy?"
+
+Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around herself, looking chilled
+in spite of the heat of the day. "What happened to the people at the
+building?" she asked in a thin voice. The injection had removed her
+memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strain and shock still
+reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel so ... exhausted. Please tell
+me what happened. I have the feeling you're hiding something."
+
+Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not surprised to find
+them cold. Looking into her eyes he tried to give her some of his
+strength. "It wasn't very nice," he said. "You were shaken up by it, I
+imagine that's why you feel the way you do now. But--Lea, you'll have to
+take my word for this. Don't ask any more questions. There's nothing we
+can do now about it. But we can still find out about the magter. Will
+you examine the corpse?"
+
+She tried to ask something, then changed her mind. When she dropped her
+eyes Brion felt the thin shiver that went through her body. "There's
+something terribly wrong," she said. "I know that. I guess I'll have to
+take your word that it's best not to ask questions. Help me up, will
+you, darling? My legs are absolutely liquid."
+
+Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting most of her weight,
+she went slowly across to the corpse. She looked down and shuddered.
+"Not what you would call a natural death," she said. Ulv watched
+intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder. "You don't have to
+look at this," she told him in halting Disan. "Not if you don't want
+to."
+
+"I want to," he told her, not taking his eyes from the body. "I have
+never seen a magter dead before, or without covering, like ordinary
+people." He continued to stare fixedly.
+
+"Find me some drinking water, will you Brion," Lea said. "And spread the
+tarp under the body. These things are quite messy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and could stand without
+holding onto the table with both hands. Placing the tip of the scalpel
+just below the magter's breast bone, she made the long continuous
+post-mortem incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great, body-length
+wound gaped open like a red mouth. Across the table Ulv shuddered but
+didn't avert his eyes.
+
+One by one she dissected the internal organs and removed them. Once she
+looked up at Brion, then quickly returned to work. The silence stretched
+on and on until Brion had to break it.
+
+"Tell me, can't you. Have you found out anything?"
+
+His words snapped the thin strand of her strength, and she staggered
+back to the couch and collapsed on to it. Her blood-stained hands hung
+over the side, making a strangely terrible contrast to the whiteness of
+her skin.
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion," she said. "But there's nothing, nothing at all.
+There are minor differences, organic changes I've never seen before--his
+liver is tremendous for one thing. But changes like this are certainly
+consistent within the pattern of Homo sapiens as adopted to a different
+planet. He's a man. Changed, adopted, modified--but still just as human
+as you or I."
+
+"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You haven't examined him
+completely, have you?" She shook her head now. "Then go on. The other
+organs. His brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said, pushing
+the microscope case towards her with both hands.
+
+She dropped her head onto her forearms and sobbed. "Leave me alone,
+can't you! I'm tired and sick and fed up with this awful planet. Let
+them die. I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that! And
+let me wash the filth from my hands--" Sobbing drowned out her words.
+
+Brion stood over her and drew in a shuddering breath. Was he wrong? He
+didn't dare think about that. He had to go on. Looking down at the
+thinness of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her spine
+pushing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense pity--a pity he
+couldn't surrender to. This thin, helpless, frightened woman was his
+only resource. She had to work. He had to _make_ her work.
+
+Ihjel had done it. Used projective empathy to impress his emotions upon
+Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. There had been some sessions in
+the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient. Nevertheless he
+had to try.
+
+Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply "You can do it. You
+have the will and the strength to finish." And silently his mind cried
+out the order to obey, to share his power now that hers was drained and
+finished.
+
+Only when she lifted her face and he saw the dried tears did he realize
+that he had succeeded. "You will go on?" he asked simply.
+
+Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She shuffled like a
+sleep-walker, jerked along by invisible strings. Her strength wasn't her
+own and it reminded him unhappily of that last event of the Twenties
+when he had experienced the same kind of draining activity. Wiping her
+hands roughly on her clothes she opened the microscope case.
+
+"The slides are all broken," she said.
+
+"This will do," Brion told her, crashing his heel through the glass
+partition. Shards tinkled and crashed to the floor. He took some of the
+bigger pieces and broke them to rough squares that would fit under the
+clips on the stage. Lea accepted them without a word. Putting a drop of
+the magter's blood on the slide she bent over the eyepiece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing. Using low power
+she examined the specimen, squinting through the angled tube. Once she
+turned the substage mirror a bit to catch direct the light streaming in
+the window. Brion stood behind her, fists clenched, forcefully
+controlling his anxiety. "What do you see?" he finally blurted out.
+
+"Phagocytes, platelets ... leucocytes ... everything seems normal." Her
+voice was dull, exhausted, her eyes blinking with fatigue as she stared
+into the tube.
+
+Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced with failure he refused
+to accept it. He reached over her shoulder and savagely twisted the
+turret of microscope until the longest lens was in position. "If you
+can't see anything--try the high power! It's there--I know it's there!
+I'll get you a tissue specimen." He turned back to the disemboweled
+cadaver.
+
+His back was turned and he did not see the sudden stiffening of her
+shoulders, or the sudden eagerness that seized her fingers as they
+adjusted the focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that welled from
+her, impinging directly on his empathic sense. "What is it?" he called
+to her, as if she had spoken aloud.
+
+"Something ... something here," she said, "in this leucocyte. It's not a
+normal structure, but it's familiar. I've seen something like it before,
+but I just can't remember." She turned away from the scope and
+unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to her forehead. "I know I've
+seen it before."
+
+Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and made out a dim shape in
+the center of the field. It stood out sharply when he focused--the
+white, jellyfish shape of a single-celled leucocyte. To his untrained
+eye there was nothing unusual about it. He couldn't know what was
+strange--when he had no idea of what was normal.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped together?" Lea asked.
+Before Brion could answer she gasped "I remember now!" Her fatigue was
+forgotten in her excitement. "_Icerya purchasi_ that was the name,
+something like that. It's a coccid, a little scale insect. It had those
+same shapes collected together within its individual cells."
+
+"What do they mean? What is the connection with Dis?"
+
+"I don't know," she said, "it's just that they look so similar. And I
+never saw anything like this in a human cell before. In the coccids, the
+green particles grow into a kind of yeast that lives within the insect.
+Not a parasite, but a real symbiote--"
+
+Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance of her own words. A
+symbiote--and Dis was the world where symbiosis and parasitism had
+become more advanced and complex than on any other planet. Lea's
+thoughts spun around this fact and chewed at the fringes of the logic.
+Brion could sense her concentration and absorption. He did nothing to
+break the mood. Her hands were clenched into fists, her eyes staring
+unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brion and Ulv sat quietly, watching her, waiting for her conclusions.
+The pieces were falling into shape at last.
+
+Lea opened her clenched fists and smoothed them on her sodden skirt. She
+blinked and turned until she saw Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she
+asked.
+
+Her words were so unexpected that it took Brion a moment to answer.
+Before he could say anything she spoke again.
+
+"No hand tools, it would take too long. Could you find anything like a
+power saw--that would be ideal?" She turned back to the microscope, so
+he didn't have any opportunity to question her. Ulv was still looking at
+the body of the magter and had understood nothing of what they had said.
+Brion went out into the loading bay.
+
+There was nothing he could use on the ground floor, so he took the
+stairs to the floor above. A corridor here passed by a number of rooms.
+All of the doors were locked, including one with the hopeful sign TOOL
+ROOM on it. He battered at the metal door with his shoulder without
+budging it. As he stopped to look for a way in he glanced at his watch.
+
+Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on Dis.
+
+The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be no noise--someone in
+the street might hear it. He quickly stripped off his shirt and wrapped
+it in a loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extending it in a loose
+tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled cloth in his left hand,
+he jammed the gun up tight against the door, the muzzle against the
+lock. The single shot was only a dull thud, inaudible outside of the
+building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarred and rattled inside the lock
+and the door swung open.
+
+Lea was standing by the body when he came back, holding up the small
+power saw with a rotary blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs off its
+own battery, almost fully charged, too."
+
+"Perfect," she answered. "You're both going to have to help me." She
+switched into the Disan language. "Ulv, would you find some place where
+you can watch the street without being seen. Signal me when it is empty.
+I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot of noise."
+
+Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, climbing a heap of empty crates so
+he could peer through the small windows set high in the wall. He looked
+carefully in both directions, then waved to her to go ahead.
+
+"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin, Brion," she said. "Hold
+it firmly so the head doesn't shake around when I cut. This is going to
+be a little gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be the fastest way to cut
+the bone." The saw bit into the skull.
+
+Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank back himself into the
+shadows next to the window. They waited impatiently until he gave them a
+sign to continue again. Brion held steady while the saw cut a circle
+completely around the skull.
+
+"Finished," Lea said and the saw dropped from her limp fingers to the
+floor. She massaged life back into her hands before she finished the
+job. Carefully and delicately she removed the cap of bone from the
+magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light from the window.
+
+"You were right all the time, Brion," she said. "There is your alien."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Ulv joined them as they looked down at the exposed brain of the magter.
+The thing was so clearly evident that even Ulv noticed it.
+
+"I have seen dead animals and my people dead with their heads open, but
+I have never seen anything like that before," he said.
+
+"What is it?" Brion asked.
+
+"The invader, the alien you were looking for," Lea told him.
+
+The magter's brain was only two-thirds of its normal size. Instead of
+filling the skull completely, it shared the space with a green,
+amorphous shape. This was ridged somewhat like a brain, but the green
+shape had still darker nodules and extensions. Lea took her scalpel and
+gently prodded the dark moist mass.
+
+"It reminds me very much of something that I've seen before on Earth,"
+she said. "The green-fly--_Drepanosiphum platanoides_--and an unusual
+organ it has, called the pseudova. Now that I have seen this growth in
+the magter's skull I can think of a positive parallel. The fly
+_Drepanosiphum_ also has a large green organ, only it fills half of the
+body cavity instead of the head. Its identity puzzled biologists for
+years, and they had a number of complex theories to explain it away.
+Finally someone managed to dissect and examine it. The pseudova turned
+out to be a living plant, a yeastlike growth that helps with the
+green-fly's digestion. It produces enzymes that enable the fly to digest
+the great amounts of sugar it gets from plant juice."
+
+"That's not unusual," Brion said, puzzled. "Termites and human beings
+are a couple of other creatures whose digestion is helped by internal
+flora. What's the difference in the green-fly?"
+
+"Reproduction, mainly. All the other gut-living plants have to enter the
+host and establish themselves as outsiders, permitted to remain as long
+as they are useful. The green-fly and its yeast plant have a permanent
+symbiotic relationship that is essential to the existence of both. The
+plant spores appear in many places throughout the fly's body--but they
+are _always_ in the germ cells. Every egg cell has some, and every egg
+that grows to maturity is infected with the plant spores. The
+continuation of the symbiosis is unbroken and guaranteed.
+
+"Do you think those green spheres in the magter's blood cells could be
+the same kind of thing?" Brion asked.
+
+"I'm sure of it," Lea said. "It must be the same process. There are
+probably green spheres throughout the magters' bodies, spores or
+offspring of those things in their brains. Enough will find their way to
+the germ cells to make sure that every young magter is infected at
+birth. While the child is growing--so is the symbiote. Probably a lot
+faster since it seems to be a simpler organism. I imagine it is well
+established in the brain pan within the first six months of the infant's
+life."
+
+"But why?" Brion asked. "What does it do?"
+
+"I'm only guessing now, but there is plenty of evidence that gives us an
+idea of its function. I'm willing to bet that the symbiote itself is not
+a simple organism, it's probably an amalgam of plant and animal like
+most of the other creatures on Dis. The thing is just too complex to
+have developed since mankind has been on this planet. The magter must
+have caught the symbiotic infection by eating some Disan animal. The
+symbiote lived and flourished in its new environment. Well protected by
+a bony skull in a long-lived host. In exchange for food, oxygen and
+comfort, the brain-symbiote must generate hormones and enzymes that
+enable the magter to survive. Some of these might aid digestion,
+enabling the magter to eat any plant or animal life they can lay their
+hands on. The symbiote might produce sugars, scavenge the blood of
+toxins--there are so many things it could do. Things it must have done,
+since the magter are obviously the dominant life form on this planet.
+They paid a high price for their symbiote, but it didn't really matter
+to race-survival until now. Did you notice that the magter's brain is no
+smaller than normal?"
+
+"It must be--or how else could that brain-symbiote fit in inside the
+skull with it?" Brion said.
+
+"If the magter's total brain were smaller in volume than normal, it
+could fit into the remaining space in the cranial hollow. But the brain
+is full-sized--it is just that part of it is missing, absorbed by the
+symbiote."
+
+"The frontal lobes," Brion said with sudden realization. "This hellish
+growth has performed a prefrontal lobotomy!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It's done even more than that," Lea said, separating the convolutions
+of the gray matter with her scalpel to uncover a green filament beneath.
+"These tendrils penetrate farther back into the brain, but always remain
+in the cerebrum. The cerebellum appears to be untouched. Apparently just
+the higher functions of mankind have been interfered with, selectively.
+Destruction of the frontal lobes made the magter creatures without
+emotions or ability for really abstract thought. Apparently they
+survived better without these. There must have been some horrible
+failures before the right balance was struck. The final product is a
+man-plant-animal symbiote that is admirably adapted for survival on
+this disaster world. No emotions to cause complications or desires that
+might interfere with pure survival. Complete ruthlessness--mankind has
+always been strong on this anyway, so it didn't take much of a push."
+
+"The other Disans, like Ulv here, managed to survive without turning
+into such a creature. So why was it necessary for the magter to go so
+far?"
+
+"Nothing is necessary in evolution, you know that," Lea said. "Many
+variations are possible and all the better ones continue. You might say
+that Ulv's people survive, but the magter survive better. If offworld
+contact hadn't been re-established, I imagine that the magter would
+slowly have become the dominant race. Only they won't have the chance
+now. It looks as though they have succeeded in destroying both races
+with their suicidal urge."
+
+"That's the part that doesn't make sense," Brion said. "The magter have
+survived and climbed right to the top of the evolutionary heap here. Yet
+they are suicidal. How come they haven't been wiped out before this?"
+
+"Individually they have been aggressive to the point of suicide. They
+will attack anything and everything with the same savage lack of
+emotion. Luckily there are no bigger animals on this planet. So where
+they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness has guaranteed
+their survival as a group. Now they are faced with a problem that is too
+big for their half-destroyed minds to handle. Their personal policy has
+become their planetary policy--and that's never a very smart thing. They
+are like men with knives who have killed all the men who were only armed
+with stones. Now they are facing men with guns and they are going to
+keep charging and fighting until they are all dead."
+
+"It's a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the forces of
+evolution. Men infected by this Disan life form were the dominant
+creatures on this planet. The creature in the magters' brains was a true
+symbiote then, giving something and receiving something. Making a union
+of symbiotes where all were stronger together than any could be
+separately. Now this is changed. The magter brain cannot understand the
+concept of racial death, in a situation where it must understand to be
+able to survive. Therefore, the brain-creature is no longer a symbiote
+but a parasite."
+
+"And as a parasite it must be destroyed!" Brion broke in. "We're not
+fighting shadows any more," he exulted. "We've found the enemy--and it's
+not the magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm that is too
+stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it have a brain--can
+it think?"
+
+"I doubt it very much," Lea said. "A brain would be of absolutely no use
+to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers they would be
+gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internally like this
+always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions...."
+
+"Tell me about it? What is this thing?" Ulv broke in, producing the
+soft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talk but
+had not understood a word.
+
+"Explain it to him, will you Lea, as best you can," Brion said, looking
+at her and realized how exhausted she was. "And sit down while you do
+it, you're long overdue for a rest. I'm going to try--" He broke off
+when he looked at his watch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after four in the afternoon--less than eight hours to go. What
+was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half of the
+problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless the
+Nyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Even if
+they understood--would it make any difference to them? The threat of the
+hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed.
+
+With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgotten
+completely about Telt's death. Even before he contacted the Nyjord fleet
+he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Telt and his
+sandcar. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn't be checked
+against the records now to see how important they might be, but Hys
+might make another raid on the strength of the suspicion. This call
+wouldn't take long, then he would be free to tackle Professor-Commander
+Krafft.
+
+Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebel army, he
+sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer.
+
+There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted the
+transmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled in the
+microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt his ears. He
+tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a response this time.
+
+"Brion Brandd here, can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once."
+
+Shockingly, it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered.
+
+"I'm sorry Brion, but it's impossible to talk to Hys. We are monitoring
+his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys and his rebels lifted
+ship about a half an hour ago, and are already on the way back to
+Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soon become dangerous to
+make any landings. Even now I will have to ask for volunteers to get you
+out of there."
+
+Hys and the rebel army gone. Brion assimilated the thought at the same
+moment he realized he was talking to Krafft. He was thrown off balance,
+not prepared for the encounter.
+
+"If they're gone--well, then there's nothing I can do about it," Brion
+said. "I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen and try
+to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I've found out about the
+magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we can correct
+that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord--"
+
+"Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?" Krafft broke in. He was
+abrupt and sounded annoyed. Even saints get tired.
+
+"No, of course not." Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing the talk
+was going all wrong, but not knowing how to fix it. "But it won't take
+too long. I have evidence here that will convince you that what I say is
+the truth."
+
+"I believe you without seeing it, Brion." The trace of anger was gone
+from Krafft's voice now and it was heavy with fatigue and defeat. "I'll
+admit you are probably right. A little while ago I admitted to Hys, too,
+that he was probably right in his original estimation of the correct way
+to tackle the problem of Dis. We have made a lot of mistakes, and in
+making them we have run out of time. I'm afraid that is the only fact
+that is relevant now. The bombs fall at twelve and even then they may
+drop too late. A ship is already on its way from Nyjord with my
+replacement. I exceeded my authority by running a day past the maximum
+the technicians gave me. I realize now I was gambling the life of my own
+world in the vain hope I could save Dis. They can't be saved. They're
+dead. I won't hear any more about it."
+
+"You must listen--"
+
+"I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do. That fact
+will not be changed by anything you say. All the offworlders--other than
+your party--are gone. I'm sending a ship down now to pick you up. As
+soon as that ship lifts I am going to drop the first bombs. Now--tell me
+where you are so they can come for you."
+
+"Don't threaten me, Krafft!" Brion shook his fist at the radio in an
+excess of anger. "You're a killer and a world destroyer, don't try and
+make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avert this
+slaughter and you won't listen to me. And I know where the cobalt bombs
+are--in the magter tower that Hys raided last night. Get those bombs and
+there is no need to drop any of your own!"
+
+"I'm sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you're trying to do, yet at the
+same time I know the futility of it. I'm not going to accuse you of
+lying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from this end?
+First a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters' intransigency.
+Then, when that had no results, you suddenly remember that you know
+where the bombs are. The best kept magter secret...."
+
+"I don't know for sure, but there is a very good chance," Brion said,
+trying to repair his defenses. "Telt made readings, he had other records
+of radioactivity in this same magter keep. Proof that something is
+there. But Telt is dead now, the records destroyed. Don't you see--" He
+broke off, realizing how vague and unprovable his case was. This was
+defeat.
+
+The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave as Krafft
+waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voice was empty of
+all hope.
+
+"Send your ship down," he said tiredly. "We're in a building that
+belonged to the Light Metals Trust Ltd., a big warehouse of some kind. I
+don't know the address here, but I'm sure you have someone there who
+can find it. We'll be waiting for you."
+
+"You win Krafft."
+
+He turned off the radio.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+"Do you mean what you said, about giving up?" Lea asked. Brion realized
+that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and had been
+listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, trying to put
+his feeling into words.
+
+"We've tried--and almost succeeded. But if they won't listen what can we
+do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded with H-bombs?"
+
+As if in answer to his question Ulv's voice drowned him out. The harsh
+Disan words slashing the silence of the room.
+
+"Kill you, the enemy!" he said. "Kill you _umedvirk_!"
+
+He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In a single
+swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips. A tiny
+dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in the magter's
+skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken lance, the
+declaration of war.
+
+"Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think," Lea said. "He
+knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get him a job as a
+lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just what the
+brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it, one
+that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life form that you
+can live with or co-operate with is called _medvirk_. One that works to
+destroy you is _umedvirk_. He also understands that life forms can
+change, and be _medvirk_ or _umedvirk_ at different times. He has just
+decided that the brain symbiote is _umedvirk_ and is out to kill it. So
+will the rest of the Disans as soon as he can show them the evidence and
+explain."
+
+"You're sure of this," Brion asked, interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Positive. The Disans have a very absolute attitude towards survival,
+you should realize that. Not the same as the magter, but not much
+different in the results. They will kill the brain-symbiote, even if it
+means killing every magter who harbors one."
+
+"If that is the case, we can't leave now," Brion said. With these words
+it suddenly became very clear what he had to do. "The ship is coming
+down now from the fleet. Get in it and take the body of the magter. I
+won't go."
+
+"Where will you be?" she asked.
+
+"Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet means that Krafft won't
+keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than the midnight
+deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt if my
+presence past midnight will stop him, but it should keep the bombs away
+at least until then."
+
+"What will you accomplish besides committing suicide?" Lea pleaded. "You
+just told me how a single man can't stop the bombs. What will happen to
+you at midnight?"
+
+"I'll be dead--but in spite of that I can't run away. Not now. I must do
+everything possible right up until the last instant. Ulv and I will go
+to the magter tower, try to find out if the bombs are there. He will
+fight on our side now. He may even know more about the bombs, things
+that he didn't want to tell me before. We can get help from his people.
+Some of them must know where the bombs are, being native to this
+planet." Lea started to say something, but he rushed on, drowning out
+her words.
+
+"You have just as big a job. Show the magter to Krafft, explain the
+significance of the brain-parasite to him. Try and get him to talk to
+Hys about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'll
+keep the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I'll call in. This
+is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff, but it is all we
+can do."
+
+"Because if we do nothing it means the end of Dis."
+
+Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen to her. He only
+kissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convince her
+that everything would be all right. In their hearts they both knew it
+wasn't, yet they left it that way because it was the least painful
+solution.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened as a ship
+settled in the street outside. The Nyjord crew came in with guns
+pointed, alert for anything. With a little convincing they took the
+cadaver, as well as Lea, when they lifted ship. Brion watched the
+spacer become a pinpoint in the sky and vanish. He shrugged his
+shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling that this was the last time
+he would see any of them.
+
+"Let's get out of here fast," he told Ulv, picking up the radio. "Before
+anyone comes around to see why the ship landed."
+
+"What will you do," Ulv asked, as they went down the street towards the
+desert. "What can we do in the few hours we have left?" He pointed at
+the sun, nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weight of the radio to
+his other hand before replying.
+
+"Get to the magter tower we raided last night, that's the best chance.
+The bombs might be there. Unless you know where the bombs are?"
+
+Ulv shook his head. "I do not know, but some of my people may. We will
+capture a magter then kill him so they can all see the _umedvirk_. Then
+they will tell us everything they know."
+
+"The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter. What's the fastest
+way we can get there?"
+
+Ulv frowned in thought. "If you can drive one of the cars the
+offworlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildings in this
+city. None of my people know how they are made to move."
+
+"I can work them--let's go."
+
+Chance was with them this time. The first sandcar they found still had
+the keys in the lock. It was battery powered, but contained a full
+charge. Much quieter than the heavy atomic cars it sped smoothly out of
+the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sun sank in a red wave
+of color and it was six o'clock. By the time they reached the tower it
+was seven and Brion's nerves felt as if they were writhing under his
+skin.
+
+Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the tower brought blessed
+relief. It was movement and action, and for moments at a time he forgot
+the bombs hanging over his head.
+
+The attack was nerve-wrackingly anticlimactic. They used the main
+entrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight. Once
+inside they crept down towards the lower rooms where the radiation had
+been detected. Only gradually did they realize that the magter tower was
+completely empty.
+
+"Everyone gone," Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in every room that they
+passed. "Many magter were here earlier, they are gone now."
+
+"Do they often desert their towers?" Brion asked.
+
+"Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think of no
+reason why they should do a thing like this."
+
+"Well I can," Brion told him. "They would leave their home if they took
+something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombs were
+hidden here, they might move them after the attack." Sudden fear hit
+him. "Or they might move them because it is time to take them--to the
+launcher! Let's get out of here, the quickest way we can."
+
+"I smell air from outside," Ulv said, "coming from down there. This
+cannot be, because the magter have no entrances this low in their
+towers."
+
+"We blasted one in earlier--that could be it. Can you find it?"
+
+Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor, and stars
+were visible through the gaping opening in the wall.
+
+"It looks bigger than it was," Brion said, "as if the magter enlarged
+it." He looked through and saw the tracks on the sand outside. "As if
+they enlarged it to bring something bulky up from below--and carried it
+away in whatever made those tracks!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Using the opening themselves they ran back to the sandcar. Brion ground
+it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks. There were
+the marks of a sandcar's treads, half obscured by thin, unmarked wheel
+tracks. He turned off the lights and forced himself to move slowly and
+to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse of his watch showed him there
+were four hours left to go. The moonlight was bright enough to
+illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand he turned on the radio
+transmitter, already set for Krafft's wave length.
+
+When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion reported what they had
+discovered and his conclusions. "Get that message to Commander Krafft
+now. I can't wait to talk to him--I'm following the tracks." He killed
+the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The sandcar churned
+and bounced down the track.
+
+"They are going to the mountains," Ulv said half an hour later, as the
+tracks still pointed straight ahead. "There are caves here and many
+magter have been seen near them, that is what I have heard."
+
+The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the ground humped into a
+range of foothills and the darker masses of mountains could be seen
+behind them, rising up to obscure the stars.
+
+"Stop the car here," Ulv said, "The caves begin not too far ahead. There
+may be magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly."
+
+Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulv came and
+went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hidden watchers.
+As far as he could discover there were none.
+
+By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the sandcar too soon.
+The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. They passed some
+caves, Ulv pointed them out to him, but the tracks never stopped. Time
+was running out and the nightmare stumbling through the darkness
+continued.
+
+"More caves ahead," Ulv said. "Go quietly."
+
+They came cautiously to the crest of the hill, as they had done so many
+times before, and looked into the shallow valley beyond. Sand covered
+the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shone over the
+tracks at a flat angle, setting them off sharply as lines of shadow.
+They ran straight across the sandy valley and disappeared into the dark
+mouth of a cave on the far side.
+
+Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the pilot light with his
+hand and turned on the transmitter. Ulv stayed above him, staring at the
+opening of the cave.
+
+"This is an important message," Brion whispered into the mike, "Please
+record." He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing at his watch to
+make sure of the time, since the seconds of waiting stretched to minutes
+in his brain. Then, clearly as possible without raising his voice above
+a whisper, he told of the discovery of the tracks and the cave.
+
+"... The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in to find
+out. I'll leave my personal transmitter here with the broadcast power
+turned on, so you can home on its signal. That will give you a
+directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the other radio in, it
+has more power. If we can't get back to the entrance, I'll try a signal
+from inside. I doubt if you will hear it because of the rock, but I'll
+try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer me because I have the
+receiver turned off. There are no earphones on this set and the speaker
+would be too loud here."
+
+He switched off, held his thumb on the button for an instant, then
+flicked it back on.
+
+"Good-by, Lea," he said, and killed the power for good.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They circled and reached the rocky wall of the cliff. Creeping silently
+in the shadows here they slipped up on the dark entrance of the cave.
+Nothing moved ahead and there was no sound from the entrance of the
+cave. Brion glanced at his watch and was instantly sorry.
+
+Ten-thirty.
+
+The last shelter concealing them was five meters from the cave. They
+started to rise, to rush the final distance when Ulv suddenly waved
+Brion down. He pointed to his nose, then to the cave. He could smell the
+magter there.
+
+A dark figure separated itself from the greater darkness of the cave
+mouth. Ulv acted instantly. He stood up and his hand went to his mouth;
+air hissed faintly through the tube in his hand. Without a noise the
+magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the body hit Ulv crouched
+low and rushed in. There was the sudden scuffling of feet on the floor,
+then silence.
+
+Brion walked in, gun ready and alert, not knowing what he would find.
+His toe pushed against a body on the ground and from the darkness Ulv
+whispered. "There were only two. We can go on now."
+
+Finding their way through the cave was a maddening torture. They had no
+light, nor could they dare use one if they had. There were no wheel
+marks to follow on the stone floor. Without Ulv's sensitive nose they
+would have been completely lost. The caves branched and rejoined and
+they soon lost all sense of direction.
+
+Walking was maddening and almost impossible. They had to grope with
+their hands before them like blind men. Stumbling and falling against
+the rock, their fingers were soon throbbing and raw from brushing
+against the rough walls. Ulv followed the scent of the magter that hung
+in the air where they had passed. When it grew thin he knew they had
+left the frequently used tunnels and entered deserted ones. They could
+only retrace their steps and start again in a different direction.
+
+More maddening than the walking was the time. Inexorably the glowing
+hands crept around the face of Brion's watch until they stood at fifteen
+minutes before twelve.
+
+"There is a light ahead," Ulv whispered, and Brion almost gasped with
+relief. They moved slowly and silently until they stood, concealed by
+the darkness, looking out into a domed chamber brightly lit by glowing
+tubes.
+
+"What is it," Ulv asked, blinking in the painful wash of illumination
+after the long darkness.
+
+Brion had to fight to control his voice, to stop from shouting.
+
+"The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space generator. The pointed,
+sliver shapes next to it are bombs of some kind, probably the cobalt
+bombs. We've found it!"
+
+His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call that would stop
+the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But an unconvincing message would be
+worse than no message at all. He had to describe exactly what he saw
+here so the Nyjorders would know he wasn't lying. What he told them had
+to fit exactly with the information they already had about the launcher
+and the bombs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's jump-space generator,
+that was obvious. The generator and its controls were neatly cased and
+mounted. Cables ran from them to a roughly constructed cage of woven
+metal straps, hammered and bent into shape by hand. Three technicians
+were working on the equipment. Brion wondered what sort of bloodthirsty
+war-lovers the magter had found to handle the bombing for them. Then he
+saw the chains around their necks and the bloody wounds on their backs.
+He still found it difficult to have any pity for them. They had been
+obviously willing to accept money to destroy another planet--or they
+wouldn't have been working here. They had probably rebelled only when
+they had discovered how suicidal the attack would be.
+
+Thirteen minutes to midnight.
+
+Cradling the radio against his chest, Brion rose to his feet. He had a
+better view of the bombs now. There were twelve of them, alike as eggs
+from the same deadly clutch. Pointed like the bow of a spacer, each one
+swept smoothly back for its two meters of length, to a sharply chopped
+off end. They were obviously incomplete, the war heads of rockets. One
+had its base turned towards him and he saw six projecting studs that
+could be used to attach it to the missing rocket. A circular inspection
+port was open in the flat base of the bomb.
+
+This was enough. With this description the Nyjorders would know he
+couldn't be lying about finding the bombs. Once they realized this they
+couldn't destroy Dis without first trying to neutralize them.
+
+Brion carefully counted fifty paces before he stopped. He was far enough
+from the cavern so he couldn't be heard, and an angle of the cave cut
+off all light from behind him. With carefully controlled movements he
+turned on the power, switched the set to transmit and checked the
+broadcast frequency. All correct. Then, slowly and clearly, he described
+what he had seen in the cavern behind him. He kept his voice
+emotionless, recounting facts, leaving out anything that might be
+considered an opinion.
+
+It was six minutes before midnight when he finished. He thumbed the
+switch to receive and waited.
+
+There was only silence.
+
+Slowly, the empty quality of the silence penetrated his numbed mind.
+There were no crackling atmospherics nor hiss of static, even when he
+turned the power full on. The mass of rock and earth of the mountain
+above was acting as a perfect grounding screen, absorbing his signal
+even at maximum output.
+
+They hadn't heard him. The Nyjord fleet didn't know that the cobalt
+bombs had been discovered before their launching. The attack would go
+ahead as planned. Even now the bomb-bay doors were opening, armed
+H-bombs hung above the planet, held in place only by their shackles. In
+a few minutes the signal would be given and the shackles would spring
+open, the bombs drop clear....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Killers!" Brion shouted into the microphone. "You wouldn't listen to
+reason, you wouldn't listen to Hys, or me, or to any voice that
+suggested an alternative to complete destruction. You are going to
+destroy Dis and _it's not necessary_! There were a lot of ways you could
+have stopped it. You didn't do any of them and now it's too late. You'll
+destroy Dis and in turn this will destroy Nyjord. Ihjel said that and
+now I believe him. You're just another failure in a galaxy full of
+failures!"
+
+He raised the radio above his head and sent it crashing into the rock
+floor. Then he was running back to Ulv, trying to run away from the
+realization that he, too, had tried and failed. The people on the
+surface of Dis had less than two minutes left to live.
+
+"They didn't get my message," Brion said to Ulv. "The radio won't work
+this far underground."
+
+"Then the bombs will fall?" Ulv asked, looking searchingly at Brion's
+face in the dim reflected light from the cavern.
+
+"Unless something happens that we know nothing about, the bombs will
+fall."
+
+They said nothing after that, they simply waited. The three technicians
+in the cavern were also aware of the time. They were calling to each
+other and trying to talk to the magter. The emotionless, parasite-ridden
+brains of the magter saw no reason to stop work, so the men were beaten
+back to their tasks. In spite of the blows they didn't go, just gaped in
+horror as the clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the
+magter dimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They
+stopped, too, and waited.
+
+The hour hand touched twelve on Brion's watch, then the minute hand. The
+second hand closed the gap and for a tenth of a second the three black
+hands were one. Then the second hand moved on.
+
+Brion's immediate sensation of relief was washed away by the chilling
+realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismic waves were
+slow and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seen here. If the
+bombs had been dropped at twelve, they wouldn't know it at once.
+
+A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heaved under
+them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted down from
+the roof above.
+
+Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He could not face the
+accusation in the Disan's eyes.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knocked him
+down and beat him into silence. Seeing this the other two men returned
+to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surface of the
+planet were dead, this would have no effect on the magter. They would go
+ahead as planned, without emotion or imagination enough to alter their
+set course. As they worked the technicians' attitude changed from
+shocked numbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had been
+killed--the invisible death of radiation must already be penetrating
+into the caves--but they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftly they
+brought their work to completion, with a speed and precision they had
+concealed before.
+
+"What are those offworlders doing?" Ulv asked.
+
+Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and looked across the cavern
+floor. The men had a wheeled hand-truck and were rolling one of the
+atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the latticework of the
+jump-field.
+
+"They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Nyjord bombed Dis. That
+machine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet."
+
+"Will you stop them?" Ulv asked. He had his deadly blowgun in his hand
+and his face was an expressionless mask.
+
+Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite of
+everything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord had dropped the bombs. And
+this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Brion had it within
+his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he? Should he
+save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice the ancient
+blood-oath that had echoed and destroyed down through the ages--_An eye
+for an eye, a tooth for a tooth._ It would be so simple. He literally
+had to do nothing. The score would be evened and his and the Disans'
+deaths avenged.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to kill Brion if he should try to stop
+the launchings? Or had he misread the Disan entirely?
+
+"Will _you_ stop them, Ulv?" he asked.
+
+How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The cave man first had this
+feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until men fought and
+died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, then for whole
+planets. Would the time ever come when men might realize that the
+obligation should be to the largest and most encompassing reality of
+all? Mankind. And beyond that to life of all kinds.
+
+Brion saw this idea not in words, but as a reality. When he posed the
+question to himself in this way he found that it stated clearly its
+inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did he wondered what
+Ulv's answer might be.
+
+"Nyjord is _medvirk_," Ulv said, raising his blowgun and sending a dart
+across the cavern. It struck one of the technicians who gasped and fell
+to the floor.
+
+Brion's shots crashed into the control board, shorting and destroying
+it, removing the menace to Nyjord for all time.
+
+_Medvirk_, Ulv had said. A life form that co-operates and aids other
+life forms. It may kill in self-defense, but is essentially not a killer
+or destroyer. Ulv had a lifetime of knowledge about the interdependency
+of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and ignored all the verbal
+complications and confusions. He had killed the magter, who were his own
+people, because they were _umedvirk_--against life. And saved his
+enemies because they were _medvirk_.
+
+With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planet and
+the people that had produced this understanding were dead.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of their plans, and the
+cave mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushed to kill
+their enemy. A concerted wave of emotionless fury.
+
+Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed no
+matter what happened could not resign Brion to death at the hands of the
+magter. To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simply killing
+_umedvirk_. A believer in life, he destroyed the anti-life.
+
+They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The magter had lights
+and ion-rifles, and were right behind them. Knowing the caverns better
+than the men they chased, pursuers circled. Brion saw lights ahead and
+dragged Ulv to a stop.
+
+"They know their way through these caves, and we don't," he said. "If we
+try to run, they'll just shoot us down. Let's find a spot we can defend
+and settle into it."
+
+"Back here," Ulv gave a tug in the right direction, "there is a cave
+with only one very narrow entrance."
+
+"Let's go!"
+
+Running as silently as they could in the darkness, they reached the
+deadend cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lost in
+other footsteps that echoed and sounded through the connecting caves.
+Once inside they found cover behind a ridge and waited. The end was
+certain.
+
+The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into all the
+places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men and at
+the same instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as the magter fell.
+Even if his loss was not known, the shot would surely have been heard.
+
+Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran over and grabbed the
+still functioning light. Propping it on the rocks so it shone on the
+entrance, he hurried back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited for the
+attack.
+
+It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in and died. There were
+more outside, and Brion wondered how long it would be before they
+remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter.
+
+An indistinct murmur sounded outside and some sharp explosions. In their
+shelter, Brion and Ulv crouched low and wondered why the attack didn't
+come. Then one of the magter came in and Brion hesitated before
+shooting.
+
+The man had _backed_ in, firing behind him as he came.
+
+Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn't penetrate
+the magter's thick clothing. As the magter turned Ulv's breath pulsed
+once and death stung the back of the other man's hand. He collapsed into
+a crumpled heap.
+
+"Don't shoot," a voice said from outside the cave, and a man stepped
+through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beam from the light.
+
+Brion clutched wildly at Ulv's arm, dragging the blowgun from the
+Disan's mouth.
+
+The man in the light wore a protective helmet, thick boots and a
+pouch-hung uniform.
+
+He was a Nyjorder.
+
+This shock of reality was almost impossible to accept. Brion had heard
+the bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier was here. The two facts couldn't
+be accepted together.
+
+"Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case," the soldier said,
+glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe. "I know what those darts can do." He
+pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spoke into it.
+
+More soldiers crowded into the cave and Professor-Commander Krafft came
+in behind them. He looked strangely out of place in the dusty combat
+uniform. The gun was even more grotesque in his blue-veined hand. After
+relievedly giving the pistol to the nearest soldier, he stumbled quickly
+over to Brion and took his hand.
+
+"It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you in person," he said.
+"And your friend Ulv as well."
+
+"Would you kindly explain what is going on," Brion said thickly. He was
+obsessed by the strange feeling that none of this could possibly be
+happening.
+
+"We will always remember you as the man who saved us from ourselves,"
+Krafft said, once again the professor instead of the commander.
+
+"What he wants are facts, Grandpa, not speeches," Hys said. The bent
+form of the leader of the rebel Nyjord army pushed through the crowd of
+taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply stated, Brion, your
+plan succeeded. Krafft relayed your message to me--and as soon as I
+heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'm sorry that Telt's
+dead--but he found what we were looking for. I couldn't ignore his
+report of radioactive traces. Your girl friend arrived with the hacked
+up corpse at the same time I did, and we all took a long look at the
+green leech in its skull. Her explanation of what it is made significant
+sense. We were already carrying out landings when we had your call about
+something having been stored in the magter tower. After that it was just
+a matter of following tracks--and the transmitter you planted."
+
+"But the explosions at midnight," Brion broke in, "I heard them!"
+
+"You were supposed to," Hys laughed. "Not only you, but the magter in
+this cave. We figured they would be armed and the cave strongly
+defended. So at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosive bombs
+at the entrance. Enough to kill the guards without bringing the roof
+down. We also hoped that the magter deeper in would leave their posts or
+retreat from the imagined radiation. They did. Worked like a charm. We
+came in quietly and took them by surprise. Made a clean sweep. Killed
+the ones we couldn't capture."
+
+"One of the renegade jump-space technicians was still alive," Krafft
+said. "He told us about your stopping the bombs aimed at Nyjord, the
+two of you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+None of the Nyjorders there could add anything to his words, not even
+the cynical Hys. Yet Brion could empathize their feelings, the warmth of
+their intense relief and happiness. It was a sensation he would never
+forget.
+
+"There is no more war," Brion translated for Ulv, realizing that the
+Disan had understood nothing of the explanation. As he said it, he
+realized that there was one glaring error in the story.
+
+"You couldn't have done it," Brion said, astonished. "You landed on this
+planet _before_ you had my message about the tower. That means you still
+expected the magter to be sending their bombs to Nyjord--and you made
+the landings in spite of this knowledge."
+
+"Of course," Professor Krafft said, astonished at Brion's lack of
+understanding. "What else could we do? The magter are sick!"
+
+Hys laughed aloud at Brion's baffled expression. "You have to understand
+Nyjord psychology," he said. "When it was a matter of war and killing my
+planet could never agree on an intelligent course. War is so alien to
+our philosophy that it couldn't even be considered correctly. That's the
+trouble with being a vegetable eater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're
+easy prey for the first one that lands on your back. Any other planet
+would have jumped on the magter with both feet and shaken the bombs out
+of them. We fumbled it so long it almost got both worlds killed. Your
+mind-parasite drew us back from the brink."
+
+"I still don't understand," Brion said. "Why--"
+
+"Simple matter of definition. Before you came we had no way to deal with
+the magter here on Dis. They really were alien to us. Nothing they did
+made sense--and nothing we did seemed to have the slightest effect on
+them. But you discovered that they were _sick_, and that's something we
+know how to handle. We're united again, my rebel army was instantly
+absorbed into the rest of the Nyjord forces by mutual agreement. Doctors
+and nurses are on the way here now. Plans were put under way to evacuate
+what part of the population we could until the bombs were found. The
+planet is united again and working hard."
+
+"Because the magter are sick, infected by a destructive life form?"
+Brion asked.
+
+"Exactly so," Professor Krafft said. "We are civilized, after all. You
+can't expect us to fight a war--and you surely can't expect us to ignore
+the plight of sick neighbors?"
+
+"No ... you surely can't," Brion said, sitting down heavily. He looked
+at Ulv, who knew nothing of the incomprehensible speech. Beyond him Hys
+wore his most cynical expression as he considered the frailties of his
+people.
+
+"Hys," Brion called out. "You translate all that into Disan and explain
+to Ulv. I wouldn't dare."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a schoolroom globe in
+space. No clouds obscured its surface, and from this distance it seemed
+warm and attractive set against the cold darkness. Brion almost wished
+he were back there now, as he sat shivering inside the heavy coat. He
+wondered how long it would be before his confused body-temperature
+controls decided to turn off the summer adjustment.
+
+Delicate as a dream, Lea's reflection swam in space next to the planet.
+She had come up quietly behind him in the spaceship's corridor, only her
+gentle breath and mirrored face telling him she was there. He turned
+quickly and took her hands in his.
+
+"You're looking better," he said.
+
+"Well I should," she said, pushing her hair in an unconscious gesture
+with the back of her hand. "I've been doing nothing but lie in the
+ship's hospital, while you were having such a fine time this last week.
+Rushing around down there shooting all the magter."
+
+"Just gassing them," he told her. "The Nyjorders can't bring themselves
+to kill any more, even if it does raise their own casualty rate. In fact
+they are having difficulty restraining the Disans led by Ulv, who are
+happily killing any magter they see as being pure _umedvirk_."
+
+"What will they do when they have all those frothing magter madmen?"
+
+"They don't know yet," he said. "They won't really know until they see
+what an adult magter is like with his brain-parasite dead and gone.
+They're having better luck with the children. If they catch them early
+enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has done too much
+damage."
+
+Lea shuddered delicately.
+
+"I hate to think of a magter deprived of his symbiote," she said. "If
+his system can stand the shock, I imagine there will be nothing left
+except a brainless hulk. This is one series of experiments I don't care
+to witness. I rest secure in the knowledge that the Nyjorders will find
+the most humane solution."
+
+"I'm sure they will," Brion said.
+
+"Now what about us," she said disconcertingly.
+
+This jarred Brion. He didn't have her ability to put past horrors out of
+the mind by substituting present pleasures. "Well, what about us?" he
+said with masterful inappropriateness.
+
+She smiled and leaned against him. "You weren't as vague as that, the
+night in the hospital room. I seem to remember a few other things you
+said. You can't claim you're completely indifferent to me, Brion Brandd.
+So I'm only asking you what any outspoken Anvharian girl would. Where do
+we go from here? Get married?"
+
+There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight body in his arms and
+feeling her hair against his cheek. They both sensed it, and this
+awareness made his words sound that much more ugly.
+
+"Lea ... darling! You know how important you are to me--but you
+certainly realize that we could never get married."
+
+Her body stiffened and she tore herself away from him.
+
+"Why you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat," she screamed. "What do
+you mean by that? I like you Lea, we have plenty of fun and games
+together, but surely you realize that you aren't the kind of girl one
+takes home to mother!"
+
+"Lea, hold on," he said. "You know better than to say a thing like that.
+What I said has nothing to do with how I feel towards you. But marriage
+means children, and you are biologist enough to know about Earth's
+genes--"
+
+"Intolerant yokel!" she cried, slapping his face. He didn't move or
+attempt to stop her. "I expected better from you, with all your
+pretensions of understanding. But all you can think of are the horror
+stories about the worn out genes of Earth. You're the same as every
+other big, strapping bigot from the frontier planets. I know how you
+look down on our small size, our allergies and hemophilia and all the
+other weaknesses that have been bred back and preserved by the race. You
+hate--"
+
+"But that's not what I meant at all," he interrupted, shocked, his voice
+drowning hers out. "Yours are the strong genes, the viable
+strains--_mine_ are the deadly ones. A child of mine would kill itself
+and you in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term. You're
+forgetting that you are the original Homo sapiens. I'm a recent
+mutation."
+
+Lea was frozen by his words. They revealed a truth she had known, but
+would never permit herself to consider.
+
+"Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed," he said. "The last
+few thousand years you may have been breeding weaknesses back into the
+genetic pool. But that's nothing compared to the hundred millions of
+years that it took to develop man. How many newborn babies live to be a
+year of age on Earth?"
+
+"Why ... almost all of them."
+
+"Earth is home," he said gently. "When men leave home they can adapt to
+different planets, but a price must be paid. A terrible price in dead
+infants. The successful mutations live, the failures die. Natural
+selection is a brutally simple affair. When you look at me you see a
+success. I have a sister--a success too. Yet my mother had six other
+children who died when they were still babies. And at least fifteen
+others that never came to term. You know these things, don't you Lea?"
+
+"I know, I know...." she said sobbing into her hands. He held her now
+and she didn't pull away. "I know it all as a biologist--but I am so
+awfully tired of being a biologist, and top of my class and a mental
+match for any man. But when I think about you, I do it as a woman, and
+can't admit any of this. I need someone Brion, and I needed you so much
+because I loved you." She sniffed and pushed at her eyes. "You're going
+home, aren't you? Back to Anvhar. When?"
+
+"I can't wait too long," he said, unhappily. "Aside from my personal
+wants I find myself remembering that I'm a part of Anvhar. When you
+think of the number of people who suffered and died--or adapted--so that
+I could be sitting here now. Well, it's a little frightening. I suppose
+it doesn't make sense logically that I should feel indebted to them. But
+I do. Whatever I do now, or in the next few years, won't be as important
+as getting back to Anvhar."
+
+"And I won't be going back with you." It was a flat statement the way
+she said it, not a question.
+
+"No, you won't be," he said.
+
+Lea was looking out of the port at Dis and her eyes were dry now. "Way
+back in my deeply buried unconscious I think I knew it would end this
+way," she said. "If you think your little lecture on the Origins of Man
+was a novelty, it wasn't. Just reminded me of a number of things my
+glands had convinced me to forget. In a way I envy you your weightlifter
+wife-to-be, and your happy kiddies. But not very much. Very early in
+life I resigned myself to the fact that there was no one on Earth I
+would care to marry. I always had these teen-age dreams of a hero from
+space who would carry me off, and I guess I slipped you into the pattern
+without realizing it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Don't we look happy," Hys said, shambling towards them.
+
+"Fall dead and make me even happier then," Lea snapped bitterly.
+
+Hys ignored the acid tone of her answer and sat down on the couch next
+to them. Since leaving command of his rebel Nyjord Army he seemed much
+mellower. "Going to keep on working for the Cultural Relationships
+Foundation, Brion?" he asked. "You're the kind of man we need."
+
+Brion's eyes widened as the meaning of the last words penetrated. "Are
+you in the C.R.F.?"
+
+"Field agent for Nyjord," he said. "I hope you don't think those
+helpless office types like Faussel or Mervv really represented us there?
+They just took notes and acted as a front and cover for the
+organization. Nyjord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding hand behind
+the scenes is needed, to help them find their place in the galaxy before
+they are pulverized."
+
+"What's your dirty game, Hys?" Lea asked, scowling. "I've had enough
+hints to suspect for a long time that there was more to the C.R.F. than
+the sweetness-and-light-part I have seen. Are you people egomaniacs,
+power hungry or what?"
+
+"That's the first charge that would be leveled at us, if our activities
+were publicly known," Hys told her. "That's why we do most of our work
+under cover. The best fact I can give you to counter the charge is
+_money_. Just where do you think we get the funds for an operation this
+size?" He smiled at their blank looks. "You'll see the records later so
+there won't be any doubt. The truth is that all our funds are donated by
+planets we have helped. Even a tiny percentage of a planetary income is
+large--add enough of them together and you have enough money to help
+other planets. And voluntary gratitude is a perfect test, if you stop to
+think about it. You can't talk people into liking what you have done.
+They have to be convinced. There have always been people on C.R.F.
+worlds who knew about our work, and agreed with it enough to see that we
+are kept in funds."
+
+"Why are you telling me all this super-secret stuff," Lea asked.
+
+"Isn't that obvious? We want you to keep on working for us. You can name
+whatever salary you like, as I've said there is no shortage of ready
+cash." Hys glanced quickly at them both and delivered the clinching
+argument. "I hope Brion will go on working with us, too. He is the kind
+of field agent we desperately need, and it is almost impossible to
+find."
+
+"Just show me where to sign," she said, and there was life in her voice
+once again.
+
+"I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail," Brion smiled, "yet I suppose if
+you people can juggle planetary psychologies, you must find that
+individuals can be pushed around like chess men. Though you should
+realize that very little pushing is required this time."
+
+"Will you sign on?" Hys asked.
+
+"I must go back to Anvhar," Brion said, "but there really is no pressing
+hurry."
+
+"Earth," said Lea, "is overpopulated enough as it is."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sense of Obligation, by 
+Henry Maxwell Dempsey (AKA Harry Harrison)
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