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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf6df31 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51866 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51866) diff --git a/old/51866-h.zip b/old/51866-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index abbfe43..0000000 --- a/old/51866-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51866-h/51866-h.htm b/old/51866-h/51866-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f87d19b..0000000 --- a/old/51866-h/51866-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8189 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of D-99, by H. 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Fyfe. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of D-99, by H.B. Fyfe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: D-99 - -Author: H.B. Fyfe - -Release Date: April 26, 2016 [EBook #51866] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK D-99 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="324" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>D-99</h1> - -<p>a science-fiction novel by</p> - -<p>H. B. FYFE</p> - -<p>PYRAMID BOOKS<br /> -NEW YORK</p> - -<p>D-99</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">A Pyramid Book</span></p> - -<p>First Printing, November 1962</p> - -<p><i>This book is fiction. No resemblance is intended<br /> -between any character herein and any person, living<br /> -or dead; any such resemblance is purely coincidental.</i></p> - -<p>Copyright, 1962 by Pyramid Publications, Inc.<br /> -All Rights Reserved</p> - -<p><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Pyramid Books</span> <i>are published by Pyramid Publications, Inc.,<br /> -444 Madison Avenue, New York 22, New York, U.S.A.</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any<br /> -evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>ROCKETS SLAMMED PAST</i></p> - - -<p>—just missing the tall, gaunt man who dodged down the stairs of the -Earth Embassy. A figure loomed in a doorway and he snapped off a quick -blaster shot at it—missed.</p> - -<p>He'd killed one man, wounded others—and was carrying papers stolen -from the secret Embassy files. They had to stop him—but they couldn't!</p> - -<p>—And, worlds away, the men of Department 99 watched on their -galaxy-spanning view-screen ... knowing they were responsible for this -disaster—and powerless to do anything about it!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph3">CONTENTS</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ONE">ONE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#TWO">TWO</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THREE">THREE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#FOUR">FOUR</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#FIVE">FIVE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#SIX">SIX</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#SEVEN">SEVEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#EIGHT">EIGHT</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#NINE">NINE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#TEN">TEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ELEVEN">ELEVEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#TWELVE">TWELVE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THIRTEEN">THIRTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#FOURTEEN">FOURTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#FIFTEEN">FIFTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#SIXTEEN">SIXTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#SEVENTEEN">SEVENTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#EIGHTEEN">EIGHTEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#NINETEEN">NINETEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#TWENTY">TWENTY</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="ONE" id="ONE">ONE</a></h2> - - -<p>At the ninety-fifth floor, Westervelt left the public elevator for -a private automatic one which he took four floors further. When he -stepped out, the dark, lean youth faced an office entrance whose -double, transparent doors bore the discreet legend: "Department 99."</p> - -<p>He crossed the hall and entered. Waving at the little blonde in the -switchboard cubby to the right of the doorway, he continued a few steps -into the office beyond. Two secretaries looked up from the row of desks -facing him, a third place being unoccupied. Behind them, long windows -filtered the late afternoon light to a mellow tint.</p> - -<p>"Did you get it all right, Willie?" asked the dark girl to his left. -"Mr. Smith wants you to take it right in. He expected you earlier."</p> - -<p>"My flight from London was late; I did the best I could after we -landed," said Westervelt. "It took me the whole day to fetch this -gadget. At least let me get my coat off!"</p> - -<p>He moved to his right, to a modest desk in an alcove formed by the end -of the office and the high partition that enclosed the switchboard.</p> - -<p>"How do you find yourself inside that?" asked the other secretary, a -golden haired girl with a lazy smile. "Talk about women's clothes! The -men are wearing topcoats like tents this year."</p> - -<p>Westervelt felt himself flushing, to his disgust. He struggled out of -the coat, removed an oblong package and a large envelope from inner -pockets, and tossed the coat on his desk.</p> - -<p>It had hardly settled before the door at the opposite end of the -office, beyond the dark girl, was flung open. From the next room -lumbered a man who looked even lankier than Westervelt because he was -an inch or two over six feet tall. His broad forehead was grooved by a -scowl of concentration that brought heavy eyebrows nearly together over -a high-bridged nose. His chin seemed longer for his chewing nervously -upon his lower lip. He was in shirtsleeves and badly needed a haircut.</p> - -<p>"I'm going down to the com room, Miss Diorio," he told the brunette. -"There's another weird report coming in!"</p> - -<p>He vanished into the hall with a clatter.</p> - -<p>His secretary looked at Westervelt, a smile tugging at the corners of -her full lips. She threw up her hands with a little flip.</p> - -<p>"I told you to take it right in," she reminded him.</p> - -<p>"Aw, come on, Si! What if I'd been in the doorway when he came through?"</p> - -<p>"What is it, anyway?" asked the other girl.</p> - -<p>Westervelt looked around as she rose. Beryl Austin, he thought, would -be a knockout if only there were less of a hint of ice about her. She -was, in her high heels, only an inch shorter than he. Her face was -round, but with a delicate bone structure that lent it an odd beauty. -Westervelt was privately of the opinion that she spoiled the effect by -wearing her hair in a style too short and too precisely arranged. <i>And -too bleached</i>, he told himself.</p> - -<p>The talk was that before coming to the Department, she had won two or -three minor beauty contests. That might explain the meticulous make-up -and the smart blue dress that followed the curves of her figure so -flatteringly. Westervelt suspected, from hints dropped by Simonetta -Diorio, that this was insufficient qualification for being a secretary, -even in such a peculiar institution as Department 99. Of course, maybe -Smith had ideas of making her a field agent.</p> - -<p>He held out the package in the palm of his hand.</p> - -<p>"They said at the London lab that it was a special flashlight that -would pass for an ordinary one."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the one for that Antares case," exclaimed Beryl. "Si was telling -me how they'll send out plans of that. Did they show you how it works?"</p> - -<p>"It gives just a dim beam until you press an extra switch," said -Westervelt. "Then it puts out a series of dashes bright enough to hurt -your eyes."</p> - -<p>"What in the world do they want that for?" asked Beryl.</p> - -<p>"What in some other world, you mean! On some of these planets, the -native life is so used to a dim red sun that a flash like this on their -sensitive eyes can knock them unconscious."</p> - -<p>"This place is just full of dirty tricks like that," said the blonde. -"Why can't they free these people some other way?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt and Simonetta looked at each other. Beryl had been in the -Department only a few weeks, and did not yet seem to have heard the -word.</p> - -<p><i>Or understood it, maybe</i>, thought Westervelt. <i>She might not look half -so intelligent without that nice chest expansion.</i></p> - -<p>"Some of them just get in trouble," Simonetta was saying. "The laws of -alien peoples we've been meeting around the galaxy don't necessarily -make sense to Terrans."</p> - -<p>"But why can't they stay away from such queer places?"</p> - -<p>"What would you do," asked Westervelt, "if you were in a spaceship that -blew up near a strange planetary system, and you took an emergency -rocket to land on the best looking planet, and the local bems arrested -you because they have a law against anyone passing through their system -without special permission?"</p> - -<p>"But how can they make a law like that?" demanded Beryl.</p> - -<p>"Who says they can't? They had a war with beings from the star nearest -them; and wound up suspicious of every kind of spaceship. We have a -case like that now."</p> - -<p>"They've been working on it two months," Simonetta confirmed. "Those -poor men were jailed over a month before anybody even heard about them."</p> - -<p>Beryl shrugged and turned back to her desk. Westervelt watched her -walk, thinking that the rear elevation was good too, until it occurred -to him that Simonetta might be taking in his expression. The blonde -settled herself and leaned back to stretch. He was willing to bet ten -credits that she did it just to get his goat.</p> - -<p>"Well, the work is interesting," Beryl admitted, "but I don't see why -it can't be done by the Department of Interstellar Relations. The -D.I.R. has trained diplomats and knows all about dealing with aliens."</p> - -<p>"Come on, now, dear!" said Simonetta. "Where do you think your paycheck -originates? Publicly, the D.I.R. doesn't like to admit that we exist. -To hide the connection, they named us after the floor we're on in this -building, and hoped that nobody would notice us."</p> - -<p>"I knew I was getting into something crooked!" exclaimed Beryl.</p> - -<p>"It depends," said Westervelt. "Suppose some Terran spacer is slung -into jail out there somewhere, for something that would never be a -crime in the Solar System. The D.I.R. protests, and the bems simply -deny they have him. How far can diplomacy go? We try getting him out -some other way."</p> - -<p>He held up the "flashlight."</p> - -<p>"Now they'll stellarfax plans of this out to Antares to our field -agents. After one is made and smuggled in to our case, all they have to -do is run in a fast ship to pick him up when he breaks out."</p> - -<p>"Speaking of that gadget," Simonetta suggested, "why don't you take it -down to Mr. Smith? He must be waiting out the message in the com room."</p> - -<p>Westervelt agreed. He took the package and the envelope of blueprints, -and walked into the hall. He turned first to his right, along the base -of the U-shaped corridor, then to his left after passing the door to -the fire stairs at the inner corner and the private entrance to Smith's -office opposite it.</p> - -<p>The walls were covered by a gray plastic that was softly monotonous in -the light of the luminous ceiling. The floor, nearly black, was of a -springy composition that deadened the sound of footfalls.</p> - -<p>Along the wing of the "U" into which he turned, Westervelt passed doors -to the department's reference library and to a conference room on his -right, and portal marked "Shaft" on his left. Beyond the latter was a -section of blank wall behind which, he knew, was a special shaft for -the power conduits that supplied the department's own communications -instruments.</p> - -<p>The place was a self-sufficient unit, he reflected. It had its own -TV equipment and a sub-space radio for reaching far-out spaceships, -although most routine traffic was boosted through relay stations on the -outer planets of the Solar System.</p> - -<p>Some lines of communication with the field agents were tenuous, but -messages usually got through. If the lines broke down, someone would be -sent to search the confidential files for a roundabout connection.</p> - -<p><i>I wonder how many of us would wind up in court if those files became -public knowledge?</i> thought Westervelt. <i>I'd like to see them trying to -handle Smitty! Nobody here can figure him out all the time, and we're -at least half as nutty as he is.</i></p> - -<p>Down beside the communications room, though normally reached by the -other wing of the corridor that enclosed the core of elevators, shafts -and rest rooms, the department even had a confidential laboratory. -Actually, this was more in the nature of a stock room for peculiar -gadgets and implements used for the fell purposes of the organization. -Westervelt did not like to wander about in there, for fear of setting -something off. It was more or less the domain of the one man in the -department whom he knew to have been in an alien prison.</p> - -<p>Robert Lydman was an ex-spacer who had joined the group after having -been rescued from just such an incarceration as he now specialized in -cracking. Westervelt had been told that the sojourn among the stars had -left Lydman a trifle strange, which was probably why they no longer -used him as a field agent.</p> - -<p>He came to the blank end of the corridor, the last door on the right -being that of the communications room. He opened it and stuck his head -inside.</p> - -<p>The room was dimmer than the corridor. The operators, who sometimes -had to contend with much-relayed faint images on their screens, liked -it that way. They kept the window filters adjusted so that it might -as well be night outside. Here and there, small lights glowed at -various radio receivers or tape recording instruments, and there was a -pervading background rustle of static blended with quiet whistles and -mutterings.</p> - -<p>At the moment, the operator on duty was Charlie Colborn, a quiet -redhead who kept a locker full of electronic gadgets for tinkering -during slow periods. Smith sat near him in a straight-backed chair, -watching the screen before Colborn.</p> - -<p>A message was coming in from the Pluto relay—Westervelt recognized -the distant operator who spoke briefly to Colborn before putting the -message through. The next face, blurry from repeated boosting of the -image, was that of a stranger.</p> - -<p>"This is Johnson, on Trident," the man said. "Capella IV tells me they -gave you the facts about Harris. That right?"</p> - -<p>Smith hitched himself closer, so the transmitter lens could pick him -up. Westervelt tip-toed inside and found himself a stool.</p> - -<p>"We just got the outlines," Smith said. "You say this spacer is being -held by the natives, and they won't let you communicate with him. Have -you reported to the D.I.R.?"</p> - -<p>The distance and the relaying caused a few seconds of lag, even with -the ultra-modern sub-space equipment.</p> - -<p>"I <i>am</i> the D.I.R.," said the face on the screen, after a bitter pause. -"Along with several other jobs, commercial and official. There are only -a few of us Terrans at this post, you know. The natives won't even -admit they have him."</p> - -<p>"Then how can you be sure they do? And why can't you get to him -somehow?"</p> - -<p>"We know because he managed to get a message out—we think." Johnson -frowned doubtfully. "That is, he did if we can believe the ... ah ... -messenger. We made inquiries of the natives, but it is impossible -to make much of an investigation because their civilization is an -underwater one."</p> - -<p>Smith noticed Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Willie," he whispered hastily, "get on the phone and have one of the -girls stop in the library and fetch me the volume of the <i>Galatlas</i> -with Trident in it."</p> - -<p>Westervelt dropped his package on a table and punched Beryl's number on -the nearest phone. Meanwhile, with its weird pauses, the interstellar -talk continued.</p> - -<p>The missing Terran, Harris by name, had insisted against all advice at -the outpost on one of the watery planet's few islands, upon conducting -submarine exploration in a converted space scout. Since ninety-five -percent of the surface of Trident was ocean, Johnson had only a vague -idea of where Harris had gone. The point was that the explorer had -been too long out of touch. The natives, a sea people of crustacean -evolution, who were to be found over most of the ocean bottom, and who -had a considerable culture with permanent cities and jet-propelled -submarine vehicles, admitted to having heard of Harris but denied -knowledge of his whereabouts.</p> - -<p>"So we reported to the D.I.R. sector headquarters," Johnson concluded. -"They sent an expert to coax the Tridentian officials into visiting the -shallows for a conference, but nothing came of it. Then we called in -one of your field agents and he referred us to you."</p> - -<p>Beryl entered the room quietly, bearing a large book. Westervelt held -out his hand for it, but she seemed not to see him until he rose to -offer her the stool. When he turned his attention back to the screen, -Smith was probing for information which the distant Johnson sounded -reluctant to give.</p> - -<p>"But if they deny everything, how do you know he's not dead instead of -being held in one of their cities? Why do you think he's being made a -sort of exhibit?"</p> - -<p>Johnson hemmed and hawed, but finally confessed.</p> - -<p>Besides the crustaceans, who were about man-sized and -"civilized," there was another form of intelligent—or at least -semi-intelligent—life on Trident. Certain large, fish-like inhabitants -of the planet's seas had been contacted more than once to deliver -messages to the exploring members of the outpost. This was always -promptly accomplished by having one of the "fish" contact another of -the same species who was in the right location.</p> - -<p>"<i>What</i> did you say?" demanded Smith. "Telepathic? A telepathic <i>fish</i>? -Oh, no! Don't ask us to—Well, what I mean is ... well, how do you know -they're reliable?"</p> - -<p>More in the same vein followed. Westervelt stopped listening when he -realized that Smith was being convinced, willing or not. Stranger -things were on record in the immensity of the known galaxy, but Smith -took the attitude that they were all a plot against Department 99. -Westervelt pried the book from Beryl's grasp and turned over pages to -the article on the planet Trident.</p> - -<p>He skimmed the opening, which dealt with galactic co-ordinates and the -type of star at the center of the system, and did the same with the -general description of the surface and what was known of the life forms -there. The history since discovery was laconically brief.</p> - -<p><i>Here it is</i>, he told himself. <i>A species of life resembling a Terran -fish in general configuration, about twenty feet in length and -suspected of having some undetermined sense whereby individuals can -locate each other at great distances. Well, by the time it's in print, -it's outdated.</i></p> - -<p>Someone turned on a brighter light, and he realized the interstellar -talk was at an end. Smith looked around. He held out his hand for the -book, seeming to take for granted that someone should have found the -page.</p> - -<p>"I don't see <i>how</i> we're going to reach this one," he grunted, plopping -the volume down on the table to scan the article.</p> - -<p>Colborn snatched at a small piece of apparatus he had evidently been -assembling. Only Beryl was impressed; the others knew that Smith said -this of every new case.</p> - -<p>"Tell Mr. Lydman and Mr. Parrish I want a conference," the department -head requested. "We'll use the room next door."</p> - -<p>Beryl and Westervelt left Colborn examining his gadget suspiciously and -retraced their steps up the corridor. At the door to the main office, -the blonde left him, presumably to go through to the corner office -occupied by Parrish, whose secretary she was. Westervelt dwelt on the -thought of sending her on the way with a small pat, but forced himself -to continue up the other wing of the "U."</p> - -<p>He passed two doors on his left: another conference room and a spare -office used mainly for old files. Doors to his right led to washrooms. -This end of the hall was not blank as on the other side; it had a -door labeled "Laboratory—No Admittance." The last door to the left, -corresponding to the location of the communications room, led to -Lydman's office.</p> - -<p>Westervelt knocked, waited for the sound of a voice inside, and walked -in. For a moment, he saw no one, then pivoted to his right as he -remembered that Lydman kept his desk on the inner wall, around the -short corner behind the door. Everyone else who had a corner office sat -out by the windows.</p> - -<p>He found himself facing a heavy man whose bleached crewcut and tanned -features bespoke much time spent outdoors. Very beautiful eyes of a -dark gray-blue regarded him steadily until Westervelt felt a panicky -urge to run.</p> - -<p>Instead, he cleared his throat and gave Smith's message. Lydman always -had the same effect upon him for the first few minutes, although he -seemed to like Westervelt better than anyone else at the office, even -to the point of inviting him home for weekends of swimming.</p> - -<p><i>I always get the feeling that he looks right through me and back -again,</i> thought Westervelt, <i>but I can't see an inch into him!</i></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="TWO" id="TWO">TWO</a></h2> - - -<p>Castor P. Smith sat at the head of a steel and plastic table in -the conference room, whistling thoughtfully as he waited for his -assistants. Next door in the communications room, the tortured tune his -lips emitted would have been treated as deliberate jamming. Simonetta -Diorio entered carrying a recorder, and he roused himself for a smile -of appreciation.</p> - -<p>"You won't forget to turn it on when you start, Mr. Smith?" she pleaded.</p> - -<p>"I'll keep my finger on the switch until then," he grinned. "Thanks, -Si."</p> - -<p>Left alone again, he told himself he would have to do something -about the reputation he was acquiring—quite without foundation, he -believed—for being absent minded. After all, he was hardly likely to -forget to record a conference when it had been his own idea. So many -ideas were tossed around on a good day that some were bound to be lost, -unless they were down on tape. Even a good steno like Simonetta could -not guarantee to keep up with it all when two or three got to talking -at once.</p> - -<p>Generally, he admitted to himself, he erased the tape without the -necessity of filing some brilliant solution. Still, the one in a -thousand that did turn up made the precaution worthwhile.</p> - -<p>He stared morosely at the volume of the <i>Galatlas</i> he had brought from -the communications room. Sometimes, in this job, he lost his sense of -galactic direction. Calls were likely to come in from stars of which he -had never heard.</p> - -<p><i>Wish I could get a little more help from the D.I.R.</i>, he thought. -<i>It's more than having one secretary on vacation just now; we're always -short-handed. They never brought us up to strength since old Murphy -blew himself up in the lab with that little redhead. Maybe Willie will -grow into something. That will take years, though. We ought to have -some kind of training school.</i></p> - -<p>In Smith's opinion, he should have had a larger force of full time -agents in the field, but he recognized the difficulties inherent -in the immensity of Terran-influenced space. Even recruiting was a -hit-or-miss process. He had made various working arrangements out of -chance contacts with independent spacers—he supposed that it was -unofficially expected of him—and most had worked out well. About a -dozen routine cases were currently being handled out there somewhere -by a motley group of his own men and piratical temporary help. In -addition, there were three hot cases that had required supervision from -headquarters.</p> - -<p><i>I wonder if we should stay a little late tonight?</i> he asked himself. -<i>I hate to ask them again, but who knows what will break with this new -skull-cracker?</i></p> - -<p>He looked up as Pete Parrish entered. His dapper assistant walked -around the other end of the table and took a seat on the window side.</p> - -<p>"I hear you have another one," he greeted Smith.</p> - -<p>Parrish was a trim man of thirty-six or thirty-seven, just about -average in height but slim enough to seem taller. Smith was aware that -the other took considerable pains to maintain that slimness. By his own -account, he rode well and played a fast game of squash.</p> - -<p>The wave in his dark hair was somewhat suppressed by careful grooming. -He smiled frequently, or at least made a show of gleaming teeth; but at -other times his neat, regular features were disciplined into a perfect -mask.</p> - -<p><i>Thank God that he doesn't wear a mustache!</i> thought Smith. <i>That would -put him over the brink.</i></p> - -<p>He was reasonably certain that Parrish had given the idea careful -calculation and stopped just short of the brink. That would be typical -of the man. He had been at one time a publicist, then a salesman, on -Terra and in space. Actually, he should have been a confidence man. It -was not until the Department had stumbled across him that he had found -opportunity to exercise his real talents. He was expert at estimating -alien psychology and constructing rationalizations with which to thwart -it.</p> - -<p>Smith realized, self-consciously, that he had been staring through -Parrish. He passed one hand down the back of his neck, reminding -himself that he must get a haircut. He could not imagine why he kept -forgetting; it occurred to him every time he faced Parrish. He decided -further to wear a freshly pressed suit the next day.</p> - -<p>Lydman padded in, glanced about the room, and sat down as near to the -door as he could without leaving an obvious gap between himself and the -others. He eyed Parrish briefly, and raised one hand to check the scarf -at his throat. Lydman dressed unobtrusively, and probably would have -preferred an old-fashioned tie to the bright neck scarves favored by -current fashion.</p> - -<p><i>I wonder why I get all the nuts?</i> Smith asked himself, avoiding -the beautiful eyes by looking squarely between them. <i>Even the -girls—people with romantic ideas of cloak and dagger work, or the ones -that owe us favors, keep sending us peaches. Then they marry off, or go -around acting so secretive that they draw attention to us.</i></p> - -<p>Sometimes, he had to admit, he would have preferred having a babe marry -and leave the department. Parrish was often helpful in such situations, -which was only fair since he created most of them. Twice divorced, the -assistant had lost none of his interest in women. He was as clever at -feminine psychology as at alien.</p> - -<p>"Well, I suppose you've heard something of the new squawk," Smith said -to break the silence. "I just don't see how we're going to reach this -one. The damned fool got himself taken on an ocean bottom."</p> - -<p>He proceeded to outline the facts so far reported. Parrish received -them impassively; Lydman began to scowl. The ex-spacer developed -special grudges against aliens who attempted to conceal the detention -of Terrans.</p> - -<p>"First, let's see where we are before we tackle this," suggested Smith. -"I've given you enough on Harris to let it percolate through your minds -while we review the other cases. It looks like something we should all -be in on."</p> - -<p>Sometimes he would put a case in the charge of one of them, but they -were accustomed to exchanging information and advice.</p> - -<p>"This business of the two spacers who were nailed for unauthorized -entry in the Syssokan system seems about ripe," he reminded them. -"Taranto and Meyers, you remember."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," said Lydman in a withdrawn tone. "The dope."</p> - -<p>"That's right. There was no trouble getting information about them, -just in comprehending the idiot reasoning that would maintain a law -that makes it a crime to crash-land on that planet. Terra, like any -other stellar government, is permitted one official resident there. -Fortunately, we got the D.I.R. to slip him a little memo about us -before he was sent out, and this is the outcome. They may even be on -the loose right now."</p> - -<p>"Let me see," mused Parrish. "Bob gave you the formula for something -that practically suspends animation, didn't he?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Lydman. "We figured on the bastards to carry the bodies -out and dump them. A bunch of tramp spacers is standing by to pick them -up."</p> - -<p>"No reason why it shouldn't work," said Smith. "Variations of it have -been keeping us in business. Some day we'll slip up just by relying on -it too much, but this looks okay. How is your Greenhaven case coming, -Pete?"</p> - -<p>Parrish hesitated before answering. He stroked the edge of the table -with well manicured fingertips as he considered.</p> - -<p>"Maria Ringstad," he said thoughtfully. "These reporters should be more -careful, should have some knowledge of the cultures they poke into. -Greenhaven is hardly a colony to swash a buckle through. I suppose she -never thought they would bother a newswoman."</p> - -<p>"Did you ever get the answer to what she was after on Greenhaven?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, just passing through!" Parrish snapped his fingers in -contempt. "She was on a space liner enroute to Altair VII to gather -material for a book. It stopped on Greenhaven to deliver a consignment -of laboratory instruments."</p> - -<p>"Those Greenies," Lydman put in, "are as crazy as bems. What a way to -live!"</p> - -<p>"They <i>have</i> been described as the bluest colony ever derived from -Terra," agreed Smith. "I shudder to think of the life Pete would lead -there."</p> - -<p>Parrish smiled, but not very deeply.</p> - -<p>"Miss Ringstad's mistake was fairly simple-minded," he said. "They -had official prices posted in that shop she visited for souvenirs. -When they claimed to be out of the article she fancied, she had the -bad taste to offer a bonus price. On Greenhaven, this is regarded as -bribery, immorality, and economic subversion, to touch merely upon the -highlights."</p> - -<p>Smith sighed.</p> - -<p>"Why will these young girls run around doing—"</p> - -<p>"I don't believe you could call her a girl, exactly," Parrish -interrupted.</p> - -<p>"Well, this lady, then...."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't guarantee that either."</p> - -<p>Smith shrugged and pursed his lips. "You'd be a better judge than I," -he admitted innocently. "I yield to superior qualifications."</p> - -<p>Lydman grinned. Parrish maintained his mask.</p> - -<p>"I suppose that might make it even more dangerous for her," Smith went -on. "I forget what you said the sentence was, but suppose she starts to -get smart in jail. Would any snappy Terran humor pass there?"</p> - -<p>"By no means!" said Parrish emphatically. "I would not expect them to -burn her at the stake in this day and age, but they <i>would</i> talk about -it as being one of the good old ways. Fortunately, their speaking and -writing Terran makes this easy. Terrans are all black sinners, but -plenty of Terrans are necessary around the spaceports. We keep a few -agents among them. One of them is going to pull the paper trick to -spring her."</p> - -<p>"I'd rather leave them a bomb," said Lydman, almost to himself.</p> - -<p>Smith frequently wondered that such a rugged man should speak in so -quiet a voice. At times, Lydman used a monotone that was barely audible.</p> - -<p>"We hope to destroy all evidence," added Parrish. "Otherwise, it will -lead to the usual diplomatic notes, and the D.I.R. will be telling us -we never were authorized to do any such thing."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Smith, nodding wearily. "Actually, you couldn't find our -specific duties written down anywhere; and there is <i>nothing</i> we are -forbidden to do either—as long as it succeeds. Well, none of us will -see the day when the D.I.R. will publicly recognize us to the extent -of chopping our heads into the basket. They <i>have</i> been yapping at me, -though, for drawing complaints in the Gerson case."</p> - -<p>Lydman had been sitting with his gaze narrowed upon a pencil gripped in -his big fists. Now he raised his head, scenting interference in his own -project.</p> - -<p>"How can the Yoleenites complain? They claim they don't even have -Gerson!"</p> - -<p>"Easy!" Smith soothed him. "We have an embassy and spaceport there, -remember, that you've been relying on. You had them make some -inquiries, didn't you?"</p> - -<p>"Had to confirm the report somehow. All we had was the story of a -kidnapping from the captain of that freighter. It might not have been -true."</p> - -<p>"I realize that," said Smith.</p> - -<p>"It wouldn't have been the first time a spacer got left behind because -he didn't make countdown—or because they didn't want him around at -payoff."</p> - -<p>"Sure," Parrish agreed smoothly. "You could tell us about that."</p> - -<p>Lydman turned to look at him, so suddenly that a silence fell among -them. Parrish averted his gaze uncomfortably, and reached into the -breast pocket of his maroon jacket for a box of cigarettes. He busied -himself puffing one alight from the chemical lighter set in the bottom -of the box.</p> - -<p><i>One day I'll have to pull them apart</i>, thought Smith, <i>and I'm not big -enough. Where does my wife get the nerve to say the neighbors don't -know what to make of an average guy like me, just because I can't talk -about my work?</i></p> - -<p>"At any rate," he said quietly, "they took the attitude that even to -ask them about the incident was insulting. It seemed to rock the top -brass."</p> - -<p>"What do <i>they</i> know about Yoleen?" growled Lydman, giving up his -scrutiny of Parrish.</p> - -<p>"Not a thing, probably. They make decisions on the basis of how many -toes they've stubbed lately. Right now, it sounds like only routine -panic. That reminds me—I meant to check with Emil Starke about that."</p> - -<p>He shoved back his chair and stepped over to a phone table nearby. -Switching on both screen and sound, he waited until the cute little -blonde at the board came on.</p> - -<p>"Pauline, get me Emil Starke at the D.I.R., please. Extension 1563."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mr. Smith," said Pauline and disappeared from the screen.</p> - -<p>In a few moments, Smith was greeting a man of about fifty, gray at the -temples to the point of appearing over-distinguished.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Emil," he said, getting down to business after the amenities -about families and children had been observed. "I have a case on my -hands concerning a planet named Yoleen—"</p> - -<p>The man on the screen was already nodding.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I heard they were chewing you about that this morning," he said, -smiling. "I trust you preserved some sort of sang-froid?"</p> - -<p>"What's in their minds?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>"Oh ... it seems that the Space Force is nervous over the Yoleenites. -They are unable to evaluate the culture comfortably. To cover -themselves, I imagine, they send a warning now and then on the -possibilities of hostile relations."</p> - -<p>"Anything to it?"</p> - -<p>Starke grimaced briefly.</p> - -<p>"Unlikely. Some of the lads upstairs let it make them nervous."</p> - -<p>Smith chuckled. "Upstairs," they came and went, but Starke and men like -him ran things and knew what went on.</p> - -<p>"Then I can go ahead without covering my tracks too deeply?" he asked. -"I mean, I won't have to lie openly to my boss?"</p> - -<p>"Give him a few days to see the other side," Starke assured him, "and -he will be demanding to know why you have not taken steps. Have them -taken by then!"</p> - -<p>Smith thanked him for the advice, switched off, and returned to his -place at the table. Nods from the others confirmed that they had heard.</p> - -<p>"I have a feeling about those Yoleenites," grumbled Lydman.</p> - -<p>Smith waited for elucidation, but the big man had sunk into -contemplation. The other two eyed him, then each other. Parrish -shrugged ever so slightly. Smith gnawed at his lower lip.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you'll be going ahead with what you planned," he reminded -Lydman.</p> - -<p>"Oh, sure!" answered the ex-spacer, snapping out of it. "Can't help it. -I've already sent him something useful."</p> - -<p>The others smiled. "Something useful" was Lydman's term for a cleverly -designed break-out instrument. Smith hoped that in this case it would -not turn out to be a bomb.</p> - -<p>"We dug a little mechanical crawler out of the files," Lydman went -on. "The Yoleenites seem to build their cities like a conglomeration -of pueblos, very intricate and with hardly any open streets. There -would probably be a hundred routes in to Gerson, even if we knew -exactly where he is. This gadget is adjusted to home on certain body -temperatures which it can detect at some distance."</p> - -<p>"And Gerson would be the only living thing there at ninety-eight point -six."</p> - -<p>"Exactly. Of course, the thing has a general direction and search -pattern micro-taped in. That's the best they could do, because the boys -have only a rough idea of where the cell would be."</p> - -<p>"It sounds too easy to intercept," objected Parrish.</p> - -<p>"That worries me a little," admitted Lydman. "It would be worse to fly -something in, and it's impossible to send anyone in because they say -they haven't got him. The gadget is set to have an affinity for dark -corners, at least."</p> - -<p>"And how does it get him out?" pursued Parrish.</p> - -<p>"It carries a little pocket music player with micro-tapes that will -actually play for a couple of hours. They can't tell for sure that -Gerson didn't have it with him—if they spot it at all. When he opens -the back as a little jingle in the first tune will instruct him to do, -he has a miniature torch hot enough to cut the guts out of any lock -between him and the outside."</p> - -<p>"Someone will be watching for him, I suppose?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>"Sure. Once he's out of the place, the Yoleenites can hardly demand -that we give back what they say they never had. Off to the embassy with -him and onto the first ship! And I hope he kills a few of the bastards -on the way out—they won't even have grounds for an official complaint!"</p> - -<p>The other two avoided looking at him for a moment. Parrish stirred -uneasily.</p> - -<p>"I hope it—What I mean is, these Yoleenites give me an uneasy feeling -the same as they do you, Bob. Experience tells me that some of these -hive-like cultures think along peculiar lines. No wonder the Space -Force finds them hard to understand! I recommend that we open a general -file on them."</p> - -<p>"It might be just as well," Smith agreed, considering. "They may give -us more business in the future."</p> - -<p>He pushed back his chair and rose.</p> - -<p>"Let's take a break while I see if any new reports have come in. Then -maybe we can work out something on the new mess."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THREE" id="THREE">THREE</a></h2> - - -<p>Louis Taranto sat on his heels against the baked clay wall of the -cell, watching the sweat run down the face of his companion. Though -he privately considered Harvey Meyers a very weak link, he had so -far restrained himself from hinting as much. They were in this hole -together, and he might well need the blubbery loudmouth's help to get -out—if there were any way to get out.</p> - -<p>Meyers sat on the single bench with which their jailers had provided -them, staring mournfully at the rude table upon which he rested his -elbows. He was unusually quiet, as if the heat had drained him of all -anxiety.</p> - -<p><i>Sloppy bum!</i> thought Taranto. <i>He could at least comb his hair!</i></p> - -<p>They were allowed occasional access to toilet articles which the -Syssokans had obtained from the one Terran officially in residence on -the planet. Taranto had shaved the day before, but the other had not -bothered for more than a week. Meyers was perhaps an inch short of six -feet and must weigh two hundred pounds Terran. He had a loose mouth -between pudgy cheeks. His little blue eyes seemed always to be prying -except during periods such as the present when he was feeling sorry for -himself. He had been a medic in the same spaceship in which Taranto had -been a ventilation mechanic.</p> - -<p>"Glad I was never sick," Taranto muttered to himself.</p> - -<p>Meyers looked up.</p> - -<p>"Huh?"</p> - -<p>"I said I'm glad I was never sick," repeated Taranto deliberately, -thinking, <i>Let him figure that out if he can!</i></p> - -<p>"This heat's enough to make anybody sick," complained Meyers. "Why do -they have to keep us up on the top floor of the tower, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"You expect a luxury suite in the cellar? What kind of jail were you -ever in where the prisoners got the best?"</p> - -<p>"Who says I was ever in jail?" demanded Meyers defensively.</p> - -<p>Taranto grinned slightly, but made no reply. After a moment, the -other returned to his study of the table. He breathed in loudly, his -shoulders heaving as if he had been running. To avoid the sight, -Taranto let his eyes wander for the thousandth time around the walls of -the square cell.</p> - -<p>The large blocks of baked clay were turning from dun to gray in the -twilight seeping through the four small window openings. Overhead, -they curved together to form a high arch that was the peak of the -tower. Besides table and bench, the room contained a clay water jug a -yard high, a wooden bucket, a battered copper cooking pot, and a pile -of coarse straw upon which lay the two gray shirts the spacers had -discarded in the heat. In the center of the floor was a wooden trap -door which Taranto eyed speculatively.</p> - -<p>He reminded himself that he must suppress his longing to smash the next -Syssokan head that appeared in the opening.</p> - -<p>"It's getting near time," he remarked after a few minutes.</p> - -<p>Meyers peered at the patches of sky revealed by the windows. They were -losing the glare of Syssokan daylight. There had been a wisp or two -of cloud earlier, but these had either blown over or faded into the -deepening gray of the sky.</p> - -<p>"Listen at the door!" ordered Taranto, impatient at having to remind -the other.</p> - -<p>He rose, wiped perspiration from his face with the palms of both hands, -and rubbed them in turn on the thighs of his gray pants. He was inches -shorter than Meyers, and twenty pounds or more lighter, but his bare -shoulders bulged powerfully. A little fat softened the lines of his -belly without concealing the existence of an underlying layer of solid -muscle. He moved with a heavy, padding gait, like a large carnivore -whose natural grace is revealed only at top speed.</p> - -<p>Meyers watched him resentfully.</p> - -<p><i>Why couldn't I have made it to one of the other emergency rockets?</i> he -asked himself. <i>Imagine a bunch of crazy savages that say even landing -here is a crime!</i></p> - -<p>He supposed that Taranto would have pointed to the sizable city where -they were held if he had heard the Syssokans called savages. Meyers -thought the trouble with Taranto was that he was too physical, too -much of a dumb flunky who spoiled Meyers' efforts to talk them out of -trouble.</p> - -<p><i>I had a better break coming</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>He wished he had been in a rocket with one of the ship's officers who -might have known about Syssoka. They would have gone into an orbit -about the planet's star and put out a call for help to the nearest -Terran base or ship. As it was, they might be given up for lost even if -the other rockets were picked up. The course they had been on before -the explosion had been designed to pass this system by a good margin.</p> - -<p>Taranto, he recalled, had thought them lucky to have picked up the -planet on the little escape ship's instruments. Taranto, decided -Meyers, thought he was a hot pilot because he had been a few years in -space. He had not looked so good bending the rocket across that ridge -of rock out in the desert. They should have taken a chance on coming -down in the city here.</p> - -<p>They had just about straightened themselves out after that landing -when they had seen the party of Syssokans on the way. It had not taken -them long to reach the wreck. They could even speak Terran, and no -pidgin-Terran either. Then it turned out that they did not like spacers -of any race landing without permission. There had been a war with the -next star system; and the laws now said there should be only one alien -of any race permitted to reside on Syssoka except for brief visits by -licensed spaceships.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with our government?" muttered Meyers.</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Taranto, turning from one of the windows.</p> - -<p>"I said what's the matter with the Terran Government? Why don't they -pitch a couple of bombs down here, an' show these skinny nuts who's -running the galaxy? Who are they to call us aliens?"</p> - -<p>Taranto turned again to the eighteen inch square window, set like the -other three in the center of its wall at the level of his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"They're posting their sentries on the city wall for the night," he -told Meyers. "The thing should be flying in here any time now."</p> - -<p>"<i>If</i> it comes," said Meyers grumpily. "Something will go wrong with -that too."</p> - -<p>The other spat out the window that faced the main part of the Syssokan -city, then padded to the one opposite. Strange patterns of stars -gleamed already in the sky over the desert. The air that blew against -his damp face was a trifle cooler.</p> - -<p><i>Should I tell the slob about that?</i> he wondered. <i>Naw—he'd try to -breathe it all! Let him sweat, as long as he listens for the Syssokans!</i></p> - -<p>Meyers had left his bench to crouch over the trap door. There was -no reason to expect their jailers, but the Syssokans had a habit of -popping up at odd times. The evening meal was usually brought well -after dark, however.</p> - -<p>"Do you think it will really get here again?" asked Meyers. "What if -they spot it?"</p> - -<p>Taranto grunted. He was watching something he thought was one of the -flying insects that thickened the Syssokan twilight. Seconds later, he -ducked away from the window as a pencil-sized thing with two pairs of -flailing wings darted through the opening.</p> - -<p>It whirled about the dim cell. Meyers flapped his hands about his head. -The third time around, the insect passed within Taranto's reach; and he -batted it out of the air with a feline sweep of his left hand. It fell -against the base of the wall and twitched for a few minutes.</p> - -<p>Meyers squinted at him, examining the slightly flattened nose and the -meaty cheeks that gave Taranto a deceptively plump look.</p> - -<p>"You're quick, all right," he admitted. "They used to say in the ship -that you were a boxer. What made you a spacer?"</p> - -<p>"Too short," said Taranto laconically. "Five-eight, an' I grew into a -light-heavy."</p> - -<p>"What did that have to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"I did all right for a while. When I could get in on them, they'd go -down an' stay down. Then they learned to stick an' run on me. It was -either grow a longer arm or quit."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you should have quit sooner," said Meyers, for no good reason -except that he resented Taranto and blamed him for their predicament.</p> - -<p>"Why should I?" asked Taranto, with a cold stare. "It was good money. -Even after having my eyebrows fixed, I got a nice nest-egg back on -Terra. Nothing really shows on me except the habit of a short haircut."</p> - -<p>Meyers ran his fingers through his own unkempt hair.</p> - -<p>"What was that for?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh ... it don't wave in the air so much when you stop a jab. Looks -better, to the judges."</p> - -<p>Meyers grunted. <i>He'd like to believe it doesn't show on him!</i> he -thought.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, he bent down to place an ear against the trap door. A -petulant grimace twisted his features.</p> - -<p>"They're on the ladder," he whispered. "Wouldn't you know?"</p> - -<p>He straightened up and walked softly back to his bench. Taranto -remained at the window. It was a perfectly natural place for him to be, -he decided.</p> - -<p>A few moments later, the trap door creaked up, letting yellow light -burst into the cell. It came from a clumsy electric lantern in -the grip of the first Syssokan who climbed into the chamber. Two -others followed, suggestively fingering pistols that would have been -considered crude on Terra two centuries earlier.</p> - -<p>The individual with the light was typical of his race, a tall, -cadaverous humanoid with pale, greenish-gray skin made up of tiny -scales. His nose was flatter than that of a Terran ape, and his chin -consisted mostly of a hanging fold of scaly skin. His ears were set -very low on a narrow, pointed skull. Occasionally, they made small -motions as if to fold in upon themselves.</p> - -<p>The Syssokans were clad in garments not unlike loose, sleeveless -pajamas, over which they wore leather harness for their weapons. The -leader's suit was red, but the other two wore a dull brown.</p> - -<p>"Iss all ssatissfactory?" asked the one in charge, staring about the -cell with large, black eyes.</p> - -<p>"All right," said Taranto stonily.</p> - -<p>He thought that a Syssokan would never have answered that way. They -were vain of their extraordinary linguistic ability, and commonly spoke -three or four alien tongues. Only an unfortunate inability to control -excessive sibilance marred their Terran. Taranto felt like wiping his -face, but realized that it was only sweat.</p> - -<p>The Syssokan prowled around the room, examining each of the simple -furnishings with a flickering glance. He took note of the food left in -the copper pot. He checked the level of water in the big jar. He found -the dead insect, which he sniffed and slipped into a pouch at his belt. -When he passed Taranto, the latter eyed him in measuring fashion.</p> - -<p>The Syssokan halted out of reach.</p> - -<p>"You have been warned to obey all orderss here," he said, staring -between the two Terrans.</p> - -<p>"What's the trouble now?" demanded Meyers when it became apparent that -the poker-faced Taranto intended to say nothing.</p> - -<p>"There wass a quesstion by the Terran we allow on the world. How can he -know of your complaints? He was told only or your ssentence."</p> - -<p>"We told you there would be protests from our government," said -Meyers. "All we did was land on your planet in an emergency: We're only -too willing to leave. You have no right to keep us locked up in these -conditions."</p> - -<p>"It iss a violation of our law," said the Syssokan imperturbably. "You -go automatically to jail. We permit only one of every sky people to -live here. Who could tell yours that you complain of thiss place?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, you better be careful of us Terrans!" blustered Meyers. "We -have ways—"</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" said Taranto without raising his voice.</p> - -<p>He had inched forward, but stopped now as the two guards at the trap -door gave him their attention.</p> - -<p>The Syssokan with the lantern also turned to him. Taranto looked over -the latter's shoulder. The window was black; the twilight of Syssoka -was brief.</p> - -<p>Meyers had flushed and was scowling at him with out-thrust lower lip, -but Taranto's icy order had spilled the wind from his sails.</p> - -<p>"Perhapss you have had too much water," suggested the Syssokan, -regarding Taranto with interest. "If you have done ssomething, it iss -besst to tell me."</p> - -<p>Taranto returned the stare. He wondered why all the Syssokans he had -seen, though rather fragile in build, were relatively thick-waisted. -They looked to him as if a couple of solid hooks to the body would find -a soft target.</p> - -<p>It was unlikely that the Syssokan could read the facial expression of -an alien Terran. It was probably some tenseness in Taranto's stance -that caused the native to step back.</p> - -<p>The Terran strained his ears to pick up any unusual noise outside the -window during the pause. He heard nothing except the whir of night -insects.</p> - -<p>Their jailer paced once more around the cell, and Taranto cursed -himself for arousing suspicion. Perhaps, he hoped, it was only -annoyance.</p> - -<p><i>But what could I do?</i> he asked himself. <i>Let Meyers spill it?</i></p> - -<p>In the end, with Taranto answering in monosyllables and Meyers -intimidated into an unnatural reserve, the Syssokans retired. The -darkness closed in upon the Terrans as they listened to the creaking of -the ladder below the trap door.</p> - -<p>"Give them time," advised Taranto, hearing Meyers move toward the exit.</p> - -<p>They waited in the silent dark until Meyers could stand it no longer.</p> - -<p>"They won't come back," he whispered.</p> - -<p>"Well, make sure," said Taranto shortly. "Get your ear to the wood!"</p> - -<p>He felt his way to the window that faced away from the city. After the -heat of the day, the air blowing in was almost cold; and he considered -putting on his shirt. The realization that he would have to scrabble -around the pile of straw for it gave him pause. His next thought was -that he might come up with the wrong shirt, and that discouraged him -completely.</p> - -<p>His eyes had adjusted enough to the night to pick out the low hills of -the desert where they broke the line of the horizon. Starlight glinted -softly where there were stretches of sand. He settled down to wait, his -arms folded upon the ledge of the window.</p> - -<p>It was nearly half an hour later, when he suspected Meyers of dozing -on the trap door, that Taranto heard something more than an insect zip -past the window. He backed away and hissed to attract Meyers' attention.</p> - -<p>"Did it come?" whispered the other.</p> - -<p>"I think so," answered Taranto.</p> - -<p>A tiny hum drifted through the window. Into the opening, timidly, edged -a small, hovering shape.</p> - -<p>"Okay," said Taranto in a low voice, even though he knew the room was -being scanned by an infra-red detector.</p> - -<p>The shape blossomed out with a midget light. Enough of the glow was -reflected from the adobe walls to reveal that a miniature flying -mechanism the size of a man's hand had landed on the window ledge. -After a moment, its rotors ceased their whirring. Taranto jabbed -backward with an elbow as he heard Meyers creep up behind him.</p> - -<p>"Listen at the door, dammit!" he snarled. "All we need is to get caught -at this, an' we'll be here till they turn out the sun!"</p> - -<p>"Taranto!" piped a tiny voice from the machine. "Are you ready, -Taranto?"</p> - -<p>"Go ahead!"</p> - -<p>"Two pills coming out of the hold." The voice was clear enough in the -stillness of the Syssokan night.</p> - -<p>A hatch in the belly of the little flyer slid back. Two capsules -spilled out on the window ledge. Taranto scooped them up.</p> - -<p>"You each take one, with water," instructed the voice. "Better wait -till just before dawn. You told me they bring your food an hour later."</p> - -<p>"That's right," whispered Taranto.</p> - -<p>"That will give the stuff time to act. For all they can tell, you will -both be deader than a burned-out meteorite."</p> - -<p>"Then what?"</p> - -<p>"So they will follow their normal custom with the dead—take you out -to the desert to mummify. This thing will hover overhead to spot the -location."</p> - -<p>"Do they just ... leave us?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, as far as anybody has ever been able to find out. I talked to the -Capellan next door in the foreign quarter here, and he says they might -not leave you in one of their own burial grounds. Otherwise, I would -hate to take the chance of having this gadget seen in the daylight."</p> - -<p>"All right, so we're out in the desert," said Taranto. "How does this -ship you arranged for pick us up? We'll still be out for the count."</p> - -<p>"I plan to tell them where to touch down. I can talk louder by radio, -you know, than I can to you now. They will grab your 'bodies' and -scramble for space. Against the sunset, they may not even be seen from -the city. If they are, I never heard of them."</p> - -<p>"Who are they?" asked Taranto.</p> - -<p>"Some bunch hired for the job by the D.I.R.'s Department 99. Just as -well not to ask where they come from or what their usual line is."</p> - -<p>"I ain't got any questions at all, if they get us out of here," said -Taranto.</p> - -<p>He watched as the hatch closed itself and the tiny light blinked out. -The rotors began to spin, and two minutes later they were alone.</p> - -<p>"Come and get yours," said the spacer.</p> - -<p>He reached out with his empty hand to guide Meyers to him, then very -carefully delivered one of the capsules to the other.</p> - -<p>"We're supposed to swallow that big lump?" whispered Meyers.</p> - -<p>"Just don't lose it," admonished Taranto.</p> - -<p>He relayed the instructions as precisely as he could.</p> - -<p>"One thing more," he concluded. "You stay awake to make sure I stay -awake until it's time to take the stuff."</p> - -<p>"We could take watches," suggested Meyers.</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> could," said Taranto bluntly, "but I'm not sure about you. In the -second place, I ain't going to have you sleep while I don't. We're -going to play this as safe as possible."</p> - -<p>Meyers grumbled something inaudibly. In the darkness, a sardonic smile -twisted Taranto's lips.</p> - -<p>"If you know how," he advised, "pray! We're goin' to our funeral in the -morning."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="FOUR" id="FOUR">FOUR</a></h2> - - -<p>Westervelt sat at his little desk in the corner, doodling out possible -ways and means of breaking out of a cell thirty fathoms or so under -water. From time to time Beryl or Simonetta offered a suggestion. He -knew that everyone in the office was probably engaged in the same -puzzle. Smith believed in general brain-storming in getting a project -started, since no one could tell where a good idea might not originate.</p> - -<p>"If I ever get into space," Willie muttered, "it will never be to a -planet as wet as Trident. What ever made this Harris think he was a -pearl diver?"</p> - -<p>"Is that what he was after?" asked Beryl.</p> - -<p>"No, I just made that up."</p> - -<p>He glanced over at Simonetta, who winked and continued with the letter -she was transcribing. An earphone reproduced Smith's dictation from -his tape. As she listened, she edited mentally and spoke into the -microphone of her typing machine, which transcribed her words as type. -Westervelt realized that it was more difficult than it seemed to do -the job so smoothly. He had noticed Beryl rewriting letters two or -three times, and Parrish was more likely than the boss to set down his -thoughts in a logical order.</p> - -<p>"I've heard so many wild ideas in this office," said Beryl, "that I -simply don't know where to start. How do they decide on a good way?"</p> - -<p>"They guess, just the way we've been doing. They're better guessers -than we are, from experience."</p> - -<p>"It's just a matter of judgment, I suppose," Beryl admitted.</p> - -<p>"They make their share of mistakes," Simonetta put in.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, I read an old report on a great one," said Westervelt. "Ever -hear of the time they were shipping oxygen tanks to three spacers -jailed out around Mizar?"</p> - -<p>Simonetta stopped talking her letter, and the girls gave Willie their -attention.</p> - -<p>"It seems," he continued, "that an exploring ship landed on a planet of -that star and found a kind of civilization they hadn't bargained for. -The natives breathed air with a high chlorine content; so when they -grabbed three of the crew for hostages, the ship had to keep supplying -fresh tanks of oxygen."</p> - -<p>"How long could they keep that up?" asked Beryl.</p> - -<p>"Not indefinitely, anyway. They weren't recovering any carbon dioxide -for processing, the way they would in the ship. The captain figured -he'd better lift and orbit while he tried to negotiate. Meanwhile, he -sent to the Department for help, and they came up with a poor guess."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"They got the captain to disguise some spacesuit rockets as oxygen -tanks and send them down by the auxiliary rocket they were using to -make deliveries and keep contact. The idea was that the prisoners would -fly themselves over the walls like angels, the rocket would snatch them -up, and they'd all filter the green-white light of Mizar from their -lenses forever."</p> - -<p>"And why didn't it work?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it worked," said Westervelt. "It worked beautifully. The only -trouble was that when they got these three guys aboard and were picking -up stellar speed, they found that the Mizarians had pulled a little -sleight of hand. They'd stuck three of their own into the Terran -spacesuits—pretty cramped, but able to move—and sent them to spy out -the ship. Well, the captain took one look and realized it was all over. -He couldn't supply the Mizarians with enough chlorine to keep them -alive until they could be sent back. He just kept going."</p> - -<p>"But the men they left behind!" exclaimed Beryl. "What happened to -them?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt shrugged.</p> - -<p>"They never exactly found out."</p> - -<p>Beryl, horrified, turned to Simonetta, who stared reflectively at the -wall.</p> - -<p>"For all we know," said the dark girl, "they were dead already."</p> - -<p>"It was about even," said Westervelt. "The Mizarians never heard -exactly what happened to theirs either."</p> - -<p>There was a period of silence while they considered that angle. -Simonetta finally said, "Why don't you tell her about the time they -gave that spacer the hormone treatment for a disguise?"</p> - -<p>"Oh ... you tell it," said Westervelt, trapped. "You know it better -than I do."</p> - -<p>"That one," began Simonetta, "happened on a world where there's a -colony from Terra that isn't much talked about. It's a sort of Amazon -culture, and they don't allow men. They were set to execute this fellow -who smuggled himself in for a lark, when the Department started -shipping him drugs that changed his appearance."</p> - -<p>Westervelt admired Beryl's wide-eyed intentness.</p> - -<p>"Finally," Simonetta continued, "his appearance changed so much that -he could dress up and pass for a woman anywhere. He just walked out -when the next scheduled spaceship landed, and was halfway back to Terra -before they finished searching the woods for him. It made trouble, -though."</p> - -<p>"What happened?" breathed Beryl.</p> - -<p>"They never quite succeeded in changing him back. His wife wound up -divorcing him for infidelity when he gave birth to twins."</p> - -<p>Beryl straightened up abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Oh...! You—come on, now!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt reminded himself that the blush must have resulted less -from the joke than from having been taken in. They were still laughing -when a buzzer sounded at Beryl's desk phone. She flipped the switch, -listened for a moment, then rose with a toss of her blonde head at -Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Parrish wants me to help him research in the dead files," she -said. "I bet <i>he</i> won't try that kind of gag on me!"</p> - -<p>"No," muttered Westervelt as she strode out, "he has some all his own."</p> - -<p>He looked up to find Simonetta watching him with a grin. She shook her -head ruefully as Westervelt grew a flush to match Beryl's.</p> - -<p>"Willie, Willie!" she said sadly. "You aren't letting that bottle -blonde bother you? I didn't think you were that kind of boy!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt grinned back, at some cost.</p> - -<p>"Is there another kind?" he asked. "After, all, Si, she's only been -around a few weeks. It's the novelty. I'll get used to her."</p> - -<p>"<i>Sure</i> you will," said Simonetta.</p> - -<p>She returned to her letters, and Westervelt hunched over his desk -to brood. He wondered what Parrish and Beryl were up to in the file -room. He could think of no innocent reason to wander in on business of -his own. Perhaps, he reflected, he did not really want to; he might -overhear something he would regret.</p> - -<p>He passed some time without directing a single thought to the problems -of the Department. Then the door beyond Simonetta opened and Smith -strolled out. He carried a pad as if he, too, had been doodling.</p> - -<p>"Well, Willie," he said cheerfully, "what are we going to do about this -Harris fellow?"</p> - -<p>"All I can think of, Mr. Smith, is to offer to trade them a few people -we could do without," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>Smith grinned. He seemed to be willing to make up a little list.</p> - -<p>"Some who never would be missed, eh? And let's head the page with -people who take messages from thinking fish!"</p> - -<p>He pottered about for a few moments before winding up seated on a -corner of the unoccupied secretarial desk.</p> - -<p>"I was actually thinking of skin divers," he confided. "Then I realized -that if it takes a twenty foot monster to wander the undersea wilds of -Trident without being intimidated, maybe those waters wouldn't be too -safe for Terran swimmers."</p> - -<p>"Unless they could get one of the monsters for a guide," suggested -Westervelt.</p> - -<p>The three of them pondered that possibility.</p> - -<p>"I can see it now," said Simonetta. "My name Swishy. Me good guide. You -want find pearl? Not allowed here; we no steal from other fish!"</p> - -<p>They laughed, and Smith demanded to know how one <i>thought</i> in pidgin -talk. They discussed the probability of fraud in the reports that Smith -had received, and concluded reluctantly that, whether or not some trick -might be involved, there was bound to be some truth in the story.</p> - -<p>"I suppose we'll have to use this fishy network to locate him," sighed -Smith at last. "It would take too long to ship out parts of a small sub -to be assembled on Trident. The whole thing makes me wonder if I'll -ever eat another seafood dinner!"</p> - -<p>"Maybe somebody else will think of something," said Westervelt, partly -to conceal the fact that he himself had come up with nothing.</p> - -<p>"Tell you what," said Smith, nodding. "Suppose you go along and see how -Bob Lydman is making out, while I sign these letters. You might check -at the com room sometime, too, in case anything else on the case comes -in."</p> - -<p>Westervelt agreed, made sure he had something in his pocket to write -upon should the need arise, and left.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later, he reached the end of the corridor, having cocked -an ear at the door of the old file office as he passed and heard Beryl -giggling at some remark by Parrish. He unclenched his teeth and knocked -on Lydman's door.</p> - -<p>He waited a minute and tried again, but there was still no answer.</p> - -<p>He hesitated, wondering what would happen should he walk in and find -that Lydman was physically present but not in a mood to recognize any -one else's existence. Slowly, he walked back to the washroom on the -opposite side of the hall.</p> - -<p>Washing his hands with deliberation, Westervelt decided that it might -be best to get Lydman on the phone. He could not, in fact, understand -why inside phone calls were not more popular in the office. He supposed -that the face-to-face habit had grown up among the staff, probably -reflecting Smith's preference for getting everyone personally involved -in everything. There might even be a deeper cause—they were so often -in contact with distant places by the tenuous beaming of interstellar -signals that there must be a certain reassurance and sense of security -in having within physical reach the person to whom one was speaking.</p> - -<p>"I'll have to watch for that if I stay here long enough," Westervelt -told himself. "You don't have to be a prizefighter to get punchy, I -guess."</p> - -<p>He examined himself critically in the mirror over the sink, thinking -that he could do with a neater appearance. A coin in the slot of a -dispenser on the wall bought him a disposable paper comb with which he -smoothed down his dark hair.</p> - -<p><i>I need a haircut almost as bad as Castor P.</i> he thought. <i>I wonder if -that really stands for Pollux? What a thing for parents to do! On the -other hand, from people that came up with one like him, you'd expect -almost anything!</i></p> - -<p>No one came in while he was in the washroom, much as he would have -welcomed an excuse for conversation. He dawdled his way through the -door into the corridor, not liking the thought of inflicting his -presence upon Beryl and Parrish. That meant he would have to walk back -as far as the spare conference room to find a phone.</p> - -<p>"Of course, there's the lab," he muttered.</p> - -<p>That was only a few steps away, and he could hardly do much damage -between the door and the phone.</p> - -<p>Reaching the end of the corridor once more, he decided to make one last -try at Lydman's door. Again, there was no reply to his knock, so he -turned away to the laboratory door and entered.</p> - -<p>He was faced by a vista of tables, workbenches with power tools, and -diverse assemblies of testing apparatus, most of the latter dusty and -presenting the appearance of gold-bergs knocked together for temporary -use and then shoved aside until someone might need a part from one -of them. By far the greater space, however, was occupied by shelves -and crates and stacks of small cartons or loosely wrapped packages -in which various gadgets seemed to be stored after plans of them had -been transmitted to the field. Half a dozen large files for drawings -and blueprints reached nearly to the ceiling. Racks of instruments in -relatively recent use or consideration stood here and there among the -tables and workbenches.</p> - -<p>To Westervelt's right, near the far wall behind which lay the -communications room, he caught sight of a prowling figure. He -recognized Lydman's broad shoulders and hesitated.</p> - -<p>The ex-spacer had paused to examine a gadget lying on one of the -tables. From Westervelt's position, it appeared to be a wristwatch or -something similar. Lydman picked it up and turned toward a part of -the wall where a thick steel plate had been fastened to an insulated -partition of brick. He raised the "watch" to eye level, as if aiming.</p> - -<p>A thin pencil of white flame leaped from the instrument to spatter -sparks against the already scarred and stained steel. Sucked up by -the air-conditioning, the small puff of smoke disappeared so quickly -that Westervelt realized that the scorched odor was entirely in his -imagination.</p> - -<p>Lydman replaced the instrument casually before strolling over to -another table. He inspected an open pack of cigarettes with a grim -smile, but let them lie there in plain sight. Westervelt reminded -himself never to grub one of those, just on general principles. Lydman -went on to a small cylinder somewhat larger than an old-fashioned -battery flashlight. Something clicked under his finger, and from one -end of the cylinder emerged the folding blades of a portable fan. The -ex-spacer pressed a second switch position to start them spinning. He -turned the fan to blow across his face, as if to check its cooling -power, then held the thing at arm's length as he thumbed the switch to -a third position.</p> - -<p>A low, humming sound reached Westervelt. It rose rapidly in pitch until -it passed beyond his hearing range. He shook his head slightly. For -some reason, he found it difficult to concentrate. Perhaps Lydman's -presence, unexpected as it was, had upset him, he thought. He decided -that he must be getting a dizzy spell of some sort. Then he became -concerned lest he turn nauseous.</p> - -<p>The final stage, hardly a minute after Lydman had last moved the -switch, found Westervelt tensing as a wave of sheer panic swept over -him.</p> - -<p>He stepped back toward the door, noticing dizzily that Lydman wore a -strange expression too. Part of the youth's mind wondered if some of -the ultra-sonic effect were reflected from the walls to the ex-spacer; -another part insisted upon leaving the scene as hastily as possible.</p> - -<p>He got himself into the corridor again, actually panting as he eased -the door closed behind him. He started to walk, finding his knees -a trifle loose. Passing the washroom, he hesitated; but he decided -that he could make it to the conference room. Once there, however, he -slipped inside and sat down to recover.</p> - -<p>"What does it take to have a mind like that?" he whispered to, himself. -"It's like a hobby to him. I think some day I ought to look for a job -with reasonably normal people!"</p> - -<p>A few minutes of peace and quiet refreshed him. He returned to the main -office, just as Smith was surrendering a stack of signed letters to -Simonetta Diorio. They looked around as he entered.</p> - -<p>"Well, Willie, did he have anything going?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>"I ... uh ... he was kind of busy," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"What did he seem to have in mind?" Smith started to reach for -Simonetta's phone switch.</p> - -<p>"He ... that is ... I didn't ask him. He was ... busy, in the lab."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Smith.</p> - -<p>He peered at Westervelt's expression, and added, "Then ... perhaps we'd -better not disturb him. It might spoil any ideas he's putting together."</p> - -<p>Westervelt managed a grunt of assent as he turned to walk back to his -desk.</p> - -<p><i>Whatever he's putting together</i>, he thought, <i>I'd rather stay out of -the way.</i></p> - -<p>He hunched over his desk, staring unseeingly at the notes he had -scribbled earlier. He was vaguely conscious of the cessation of talk in -the background, but he did not notice Simonetta's approach until the -girl stood beside him.</p> - -<p>"What happened, Willie?" she asked. "You look as if he threw you out."</p> - -<p>"No. Not deliberately, anyhow," said Westervelt. "At least, I don't -<i>think</i> he knew I was even there—although how can you tell if he -doesn't want to let on?"</p> - -<p>He told her what had happened in the laboratory. She nodded -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"I suppose it has its uses," said Westervelt. "I hate to think of the -way he plays around with things in there. Wasn't there a time when -someone killed himself in that lab?"</p> - -<p>"That was years ago," said Simonetta.</p> - -<p>She hugged herself as if feeling a sudden chill, her large, soft eyes -serious. Westervelt realized that she was actually a very beautiful -girl, much more so than Beryl, and he wondered why he felt so -differently about them. Simonetta seemed too nice to fit the ideas he -got concerning Beryl. Something told him that his thinking was mixed up.</p> - -<p><i>I guess you just grow out of that</i>, he reflected silently. <i>Maybe -they're the same under the skin.</i></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="FIVE" id="FIVE">FIVE</a></h2> - - -<p>When Beryl walked in, Westervelt was at one of the tall windows with -Simonetta, dialing filter combinations to make the most of the setting -sun. They had the edge of it showing as a deep crimson ball beside -another building in the vicinity.</p> - -<p>"What are you two doping out?" asked the blonde. "Some disappearing -trick?"</p> - -<p>Simonetta laughed as Westervelt shoved the dial setting to afternoon -normal.</p> - -<p>"It's an idea," he said, scowling at Beryl.</p> - -<p>"For underwater?" she demanded mockingly.</p> - -<p>"Ever hear of a squid?" retorted Westervelt. "<i>They</i> hide themselves -underwater. Maybe a cloud of dye would be as good as a filter."</p> - -<p>"Willie, that <i>is</i> an idea!" said Simonetta. "You ought to tell Mr. -Smith."</p> - -<p>Westervelt looked at her sourly. Now Beryl knew that they really had -been wasting time, and had a point to score against him in their next -exchange.</p> - -<p><i>Oh, well. I can't hold a thing like that against Si</i>, he thought. <i>I -can think of people who'd be on the way to Smitty already, calling it -their own idea.</i></p> - -<p>Beryl had done a ladylike collapse into her chair and crossed her legs. -She dug into her purse for cigarettes and requested a light.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you buy a brand with a lighter in the box?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he walked over to the switchboard cubicle for the office -desk lighter that had been appropriated by Pauline. Returning with it -after a moment, he lit Beryl's cigarette and inquired, "Well, what did -you and Parrish dig up?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," she sighed, leaning back, "but, boy, did we dig!"</p> - -<p>"Yeah, I thought I heard the shovel clink once," said Westervelt, -thinking of the laughter he had heard through the door of the dead file -office.</p> - -<p>Beryl, concerned with her own complaints, ignored him.</p> - -<p>"We must have looked up thirty or forty cases," she went on. "I never -even heard of most of those places on the newscasts!"</p> - -<p>"Did he find anything that gave him an idea?" asked Simonetta.</p> - -<p>"Not a thing! There seemed to be some real crazy spots in the records, -but nobody ever got in jail at the bottom of an ocean."</p> - -<p>"You'd think it would have happened sometime," said Simonetta -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"I suppose," suggested Westervelt, "that on any planet where Terrans -were taken underwater, they didn't live long enough to be one of our -cases. On a place like Trident, they usually wouldn't have any trouble. -They'd stay on land, and any local life would stay in the sea. It took -a nut like Harris to go poking around where he wasn't wanted."</p> - -<p>"That's what Mr. Parrish hinted," said Beryl. "All I know is that it -sounds like a story out of a laughing academy. They shouldn't allow -them to get into places like that."</p> - -<p>"Then we'd all be looking for work," said Westervelt. "Don't complain, -Beryl—maybe it will happen to you someday."</p> - -<p>The blonde shivered and turned to face her desk.</p> - -<p>"Not me," she declared. "I'm staying on Terra, even if they do offer me -a field trip as a sort of vacation."</p> - -<p><i>Ah, he's already started that line on her, thought Westervelt. I -wonder if there's anything in the files on how to spring a secretary -from a penthouse?</i></p> - -<p>Lydman and Parrish walked in, the latter pausing to exchange remarks -with Pauline, the switchboard operator. A moment later, Smith opened -his door as if expecting someone. He must have phoned them for a -change, Westervelt realized.</p> - -<p>"Oh, there you are, Willie," said the chief. "I suppose you might as -well sit in on this too. We might need something, and meanwhile, you -can be picking up a tip or two."</p> - -<p>Westervelt rose and followed the others into Smith's office, where he -took a chair by the window. The others clustered around the chief's -desk, a vast plateau of silvery plastic strewn with a hodge-podge of -papers and tapes.</p> - -<p>The office itself was like a small museum. The walls were lined with -photographs, mostly of poor quality but showing "interesting" devices -that had been used in various department cases. The ones in which the -color was better usually showed Smith in company with two or three -men wearing space uniforms and self-conscious looks. Sometimes, a more -assured individual was shown in the act of presenting some sort of -memento or letter of appreciation to Smith. Lydman and Parrish also -appeared in several of the pictures.</p> - -<p><i>The record of our best cases</i>, thought Westervelt. <i>The bad ones are -buried in the files.</i></p> - -<p>Standing along the walls, or on little tables and bases of their -own, were a good many models of spaceships, planetary systems, and -non-humanoid beings. A few of the latter statues were enough to have -made Beryl declare she was perfectly happy to stay out of Smith's -office and be someone else's secretary. One model, which Westervelt -secretly longed to examine at leisure, showed an entire city with its -surrounding landscape on a distant planet.</p> - -<p>Westervelt tore his attention from the mementoes and turned toward the -group as Smith settled himself behind the desk.</p> - -<p>"This is no longer even approximately funny," said the department head. -"I've had a few calls put through. Do you know how little we're going -to have to work with?"</p> - -<p>"I gather that it is not very much," said Parrish calmly.</p> - -<p>"There are less than fifty Terrans on that whole planet!" declared -Smith, running the fingers of one hand through his already untidy hair. -"The nearest colony or friendly spaceport from which we could have -equipment sent in is twenty odd lightyears away."</p> - -<p>"Well, that could be done," said Lydman mildly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course, it could be done," admitted Smith. "But how long do -we have to fool around? We don't know under what conditions Harris is -being held."</p> - -<p>Parrish leaned forward to rest his elbows on Smith's desk.</p> - -<p>"We can deduce some of them pretty well," he suggested. "In the first -place, if he got out several messages—which we'll have to assume he -did—they must have found some means of providing him with air."</p> - -<p>"He could have lived a while on the air in this submarine he built," -said Lydman.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but in that case, he would have used its radio for communication. -We have to assume that they pried him out somehow, no?"</p> - -<p>The others nodded.</p> - -<p>"He wouldn't last too long in a spacesuit, even if they pumped in air -under pressure," said Lydman judiciously.</p> - -<p>"So they must have built some kind of structure to house him, if only a -big tank," said Parrish.</p> - -<p>Westervelt stirred, then closed his mouth rather than interrupt. -Smith, however, had seen the motion and looked up.</p> - -<p>"Speak up, Willie," he invited. "It won't sound any sillier than -anything else that's been said in this room."</p> - -<p>"I ... I was wondering about these Tridentians," said Westervelt. -"Does anybody know how they live? Do they have cities built on the sea -bottom?"</p> - -<p>"If they have water jet vehicles, they certainly have the technical—"</p> - -<p>Smith stopped as he saw Parrish lean back and roll his eyes toward the -ceiling.</p> - -<p>"What now, Pete?" he demanded apprehensively.</p> - -<p>"I don't know why that didn't occur to me sooner," groaned Parrish. "A -hundred to one they have a nomadic set-up. It would be typical, with an -environment like that. This is worse than we thought."</p> - -<p>"You mean," muttered Smith after a few moments of silence, "how can we -get a direction fix on a thought?"</p> - -<p>"Something like that," said Parrish. "I suppose they have bases, where -they keep permanent manufacturing facilities. Probably set up at points -where they have access to minerals—unless they know how to extract -what they need from the water itself."</p> - -<p>"Nothing hard about that," agreed Smith. "I'll have to send out a few -more questions. Of course, they'll take the attitude that I should be -doing something instead of asking about irrelevant subjects...."</p> - -<p>"We're used to that," smiled Parrish, showing his beautiful teeth.</p> - -<p>Westervelt wondered how broadly he would smile if it were his own -responsibility. He had an idea that Parrish might be rather less than -half as charming if he were running the operation and not getting much -help from the others in solving the problem. He had to admit, however, -that the man had a knack for spotting alien culture patterns. When he -had asked his question about the cities, it was merely because he had -half-pictured some Terran-style dome underwater and knew that that -image was unlikely.</p> - -<p>"Anyway," Parrish was going on, "we should probably think of them as -being free as birds to go where they like. Even before they developed -machines, they probably migrated about their world by swimming. I -gather that these other ... fish, I suppose we'll have to call them...."</p> - -<p>"Thinking fish!" murmured Smith sadly. He ran his hand through his hair -again.</p> - -<p>"I suppose those things still do, besides other types we still haven't -heard of, which would fill the place of Terran animals. So, then—we'll -have to look for temporary locations and think in terms of a fast raid -rather than a careful penetration."</p> - -<p>"If we could find them, there must be some way we could armor a few -spacesuits against pressure and drop down on them," said Lydman. "I -think I can dig up a weapon or two that will work underwater in a way -these clams never thought of."</p> - -<p>"Maybe we could do better to have Swishy the thinking fish hypnotize -them into bringing Harris back," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>They looked at him thoughtfully, and he was horrified to see his joke -being taken seriously. He squirmed in his chair by the window, wishing -he had kept his mouth shut.</p> - -<p>"I wonder ..." mused Smith. "If they can actually exchange thoughts...."</p> - -<p>"They might have natural defenses," said Parrish tentatively.</p> - -<p>"What could we bribe a fish with?" asked Lydman, but hopefully rather -than derisively.</p> - -<p>Smith made another note, then drummed his fingers on his desk top. The -four of them sat in silence. Westervelt hoped that the others were -engaged in more productive thoughts than his own. It was nice to have -their attention, and get the reputation of a bright young man who came -up with suggestions; but when they decided upon some reasonable course -of action they might remember him for making a foolish remark.</p> - -<p>"Willie," said Smith, coming to a decision, "circulate around and ask -the others if they can stick it out a couple of hours tonight. Maybe -there's time to pry some useful information out of Trident, and at -least get something started before we close down. If I know some guy -out in space is working on it, I can sleep anyway."</p> - -<p>Westervelt left his place by the window and went into the outer office. -He told Simonetta and Beryl. The latter acted less than thrilled. -Westervelt wondered jealously what kind of date she had scheduled for -the evening. He stopped at the window of the switchboard cubbyhole.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you, Willie!" exclaimed Pauline.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, you can turn on the projector again," he grinned. "What is it, a -love movie?"</p> - -<p>Pauline edged a small tape projector out from behind the side of her -board.</p> - -<p>"It's homework, if you have to know," she told him.</p> - -<p>"That's right, you still go to college," Westervelt recalled. "Why -don't you switch to alien psychology? Then you could qualify for office -manager around here."</p> - -<p>"When do we have alien visitors here? Once in a ringed moon!"</p> - -<p>"Who is to say which are the aliens?" said Westervelt. "There are days -when I think I could feel more understanding to something with twelve -tentacles and a tank of chlorine than to a lot of the mentalities that -get loose right in this office. There's a crash program on for the -evening, by the way, and Smitty wants the staff to hang on a while."</p> - -<p>A look of dismay flashed over Pauline's youthful features.</p> - -<p>"I know; you have a class tonight," Westervelt deduced. "Chuck it all. -Stay in the file room with Mr. Parrish and you'll learn twice as much."</p> - -<p>Pauline offered to throw the projector at him, but laughed. Westervelt -told her that no one would miss her if she connected a few of the main -office phones to outside lines and hooked up the communications room -with Smith's desk.</p> - -<p>He left her wondering if she ought to stay anyhow, and headed for the -hall. Halfway along to the communications room, he heard the elevator -doors open and close. He stopped and looked back.</p> - -<p>Around the corner strolled one of the TV men, Joe Rosenkrantz. -Westervelt looked at his watch and realized that it was a shift change -for the communications personnel, who kept touch with the universe -twenty-four hours a day.</p> - -<p><i>In case someone somewhere makes a dumb mistake like Harris</i>, -thought Westervelt. <i>They overdo it a little, I think. I suppose -it's the typical pride and joy of Terran technical culture to signal -halfway across the galaxy to fix something that might have been -cured beforehand when Harris was a little boy. I wonder what the -psychologists should have done about me to keep me out of a place like -this?</i></p> - -<p>"Hello, Willie," said Rosenkrantz, catching up. "Going to the com room?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt admitted as much, and gave the operator a brief outline of -the afternoon's developments. Rosenkrantz remained unperturbed.</p> - -<p>"Hope they don't get intoxicated with ingenuity, and insist on sending -messages all over," he grunted. "I was looking forward to a quiet night -shift."</p> - -<p>They went in to tell Colborn, who took it well. He pointed out to -Westervelt that he would in no case have been concerned with the -overtime operation. When he was relieved, he was relieved—period.</p> - -<p>"I forget this crazy place the minute the elevator door closes behind -me," he said grinning, having handed over to Rosenkrantz his log and a -few unofficial comments about traffic he had heard during recent hours. -"There are some who wait till they hit the street, but I believe in -a clean cut. I walk in, push 'Main Floor,' and everything else goes -blank."</p> - -<p>He went out the door, refusing to dignify their jeers by any defense, -and made for the elevators. By the time he reached the corner of the -hall, he had slipped into his topcoat. He pushed the button to call the -elevator.</p> - -<p>When it arrived, Colborn stepped inside and rode down to the -ninety-fifth floor. He switched to a public express elevator, which -picked up several other people before becoming an express at the -seventy-fifth floor.</p> - -<p>"Lived through it again," he muttered to a man next to him as they -reached the main floor.</p> - -<p>He joined the growing stream of office workers flowing through the -lobby of the building, taking for granted the kaleidoscopic play of -decorative lights on the translucent ceiling. He noticed them when they -suddenly went out.</p> - -<p>There was first silence, then a babble of voices until small emergency -lights went on. Someone spoke of a fuse blowing. Colborn looked -outside, and saw no street lights or illuminated signs. His first -thought was power for his set upstairs.</p> - -<p>"No, that's special," he told himself, "but I'd better call and see if -the elevators are working."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="SIX" id="SIX">SIX</a></h2> - - -<p>For a jail cell, the chamber was quite commodious. The walls were -of bare stone, like most of the buildings on Greenhaven which Maria -Ringstad had visited during her short period of sightseeing. She -thought that it must have entailed a great deal of extra labor to -provide such large rooms in a stone building, especially when the -materials had to be quarried by relatively primitive means.</p> - -<p>On Greenhaven, everything had evidently been done the hard way. She -had heard about that facet of the Greenie character before leaving the -ship, and she now wished that she had listened more carefully. It was -difficult to picture in her mind just how far away that spaceship was -by this time.</p> - -<p>That had been the worst, the feeling of having been abandoned.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, having turned up her nose at the sewing chores they had -assigned to her but having nothing else to occupy her, she sat on the -edge of the austere wooden shelf that doubled as a bed and a bench. The -Greenie guard standing in the doorway looked as if he had expected to -find the sewing done.</p> - -<p>"Can't you understand, honey?" said Maria lightly. "You can cart that -basket of rags away. I have no intention of sticking my fingers with -those crude needles you people use."</p> - -<p>The Greenie was a short, sturdy young man, uniformed in the drabbest of -dun-colored clothing. A shirt with a high, tight collar starched like -cardboard held his chin at a dignified elevation. It also seemed to -keep his eyes wide open, Maria thought, unless that was his naturally -naive expression.</p> - -<p>"Did anyone ever tell you those hats would make good spittoons?" she -asked.</p> - -<p>"It is forbidden to speak vainly of any correction official," said the -young man stiffly.</p> - -<p>"Correction official!" echoed Maria. "Look, honey, don't kid with me! I -bet you're just a janitor here. If I thought you were a real official, -who might be cuddled into letting me out of this cage, I'd be a lot -more friendly."</p> - -<p>She gave him an amiable grin. It was not returned.</p> - -<p>The Greenie stood gripping the thick edge of the blank wooden door -until his knuckles whitened. He looked like a man who had just -discovered a worm in his apple. Half a worm, in fact.</p> - -<p>"Now, I may be pushing thirty-five," said Maria, "but I <i>know</i> I don't -look <i>that</i> bad. Actually, alongside your Greenie girls, I stack up -pretty well, don't you think? For one thing, I'm shorter than you are. -For another, I fill out my clothes and don't look like a skinny old -horse."</p> - -<p>"You ... you ... are not ... dressed as an honest woman," the guard got -out.</p> - -<p>Sitting on the edge of the wooden bunk, Maria crossed her knees—and -thought he would choke. She tugged slightly at the short skirt that had -attracted so many lowering stares when she had strolled down the main -street of First Haven. She was used to being among men, but this poor -soul was outside her experience.</p> - -<p>Maria Ringstad was aware of both her visual shortcomings and -attractions. After a month here, her hair was beginning to grow in -darker and less auburn. She was a trifle solid for her five-feet-four, -but that came of having a durable frame. Her face was squarish, with -a determined nose, and her hazel eyes looked green in some lights. On -the other hand, she had a nice smile, and she had spent much time in -places where few women went. She was used to being popular with the -opposite sex, even in face of competition from members of her own. In -the Greenie women, with their voluminous, drab dresses and hangdog -expressions devoid of the least make-up, she saw little competition.</p> - -<p>"Really," she said, "no one else would think of me as a criminal. I -just tried to buy a picture in that little shop. Then the heavens fell -in on me."</p> - -<p>"The heavens do not fall on Greenhaven," said the guard firmly.</p> - -<p>"Well, anyway, some very sour characters trumped up all sorts of -charges against me, and here I am. But I didn't <i>do</i> anything!"</p> - -<p>"The attempt is equal to the deed!"</p> - -<p>Maria shook her head and sighed. She stood up and took a few steps -toward him.</p> - -<p>"You must keep your place," ordered the young man, with an undercurrent -of panic in his tone. "I have not come to debate justice with you. You -have sinned and you have been sentenced."</p> - -<p><i>I bet he'd faint if I threw my arms around him</i>, thought Maria.</p> - -<p>"But what was the sin, honey?" she demanded. "You'd think I'd written a -bad article about Greenhaven for my syndicate. Honestly, I didn't even -have time to see the place."</p> - -<p>The young man released the edge of the door, but still looked worried.</p> - -<p>"Greenhaven was founded by colonists who sought liberty and were -willing to create a haven for it by the sweat of their brows," he -informed her. "Conditions were inhospitable. There were plagues to test -their faith and ungainly beasts to test their courage. What has been -built here has been built by a great communal struggle, and it is not -to be hazarded by the sinful attitudes of old Terra, and—you should -have paid the listed price."</p> - -<p>"But he wouldn't sell me one at that price when I offered it!"</p> - -<p>"Then he did not have one. You attempted to bribe him."</p> - -<p>"Well, it was just a friendly offer," said Maria, straightening her -skirt. "It didn't amount to anything."</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, it amounted to bribery, immorality, and economic -subversion. Procedures such as purchase and merchandising must be -strictly regulated for the good of the community. We cannot permit -chaos to intrude upon the peace of Greenhaven."</p> - -<p>"You know, honey," she remarked, studying him with her head cocked to -one side, "you talk like a book. A very old book."</p> - -<p>The guard rolled his eyes toward the hall. He relaxed for the first -time, in order to lean back and listen to something in the corridor.</p> - -<p>"I must caution you to cease addressing me as 'honey,'" he said in a -lower voice. "I hear the steps of my superior."</p> - -<p>Maria laughed, a silvery ripple that made the young man grit his teeth.</p> - -<p>"Maybe he's jealous," she suggested. "Or bored. What do you fellows -have to do, anyway, except go around handing out cell work and picking -it up?"</p> - -<p>"There is no place on Greenhaven for idle hands," said the young man, -eyeing the untouched sewing with disapproval.</p> - -<p>"Isn't there ever any excitement? How often does someone try to escape?"</p> - -<p>"It is forbidden to escape," said the guard soberly. He looked as if he -wished that he himself could escape.</p> - -<p>Heavy steps halted outside the door of the cell to signal the arrival -of the chief warden. The latter turned a severely inquiring stare upon -the young man, who hastily stepped aside to admit his chief.</p> - -<p>"Have you been conversing with the prisoner?" asked the older man.</p> - -<p>He was clad in a similar uniform with, perhaps, a slightly higher -collar. His dark-browed features reflected greater age and asceticism. -Otherwise, Maria thought ruefully, there was little to choose between -them. He seemed to have a chilling effect upon the guard.</p> - -<p>"Only in the line of duty, sir," the young man responded.</p> - -<p>The warden spotted the basket of undone work. He frowned.</p> - -<p>"This should have been attended to long ago," he said. "What excuse can -there be?"</p> - -<p>Maria planted both hands on her hips.</p> - -<p>"Plenty!" she announced. "In the first place, you have no right to hold -a Terran citizen in a hole like this. In the second, that ridiculous -five year sentence is going to be appealed and cancelled as soon as the -Terran consul gets things moving."</p> - -<p>"That is at least doubtful," retorted the warden, favoring her with -a wintry smile which raised the corners of his mouth an eighth of an -inch. "Meanwhile, there are methods we can use to enforce obedience. -Would you rather I summon some of the women of the staff?"</p> - -<p>"I'd rather you'd explain to me what was so awful about trying to buy a -picture of the city in that little shop? If they weren't for tourists -to buy, why did they have them?"</p> - -<p>"Such nonsensical objects are provided for tourists and others who -must from time to time be admitted to Greenhaven. That does not excuse -flouting our laws and seeking to cause dissatisfaction through the -example of bribery. The city of First Haven has been wrung from the -wilderness, but the struggle to complete our building of the colony -must not be hindered or subverted. It is necessary—"</p> - -<p>"Aw, hell! You talk like a book too!" exclaimed Maria.</p> - -<p>The two men stared at her, silent, wide-eyed, utterly shocked at this -open evidence of dementia.</p> - -<p>"The price list is sacred to you," she snapped, "but it's all right to -put that junk on sale to clip the tourists, isn't it? Why doesn't that -strike you as being immoral? They're no good, but their money is, is -that it?"</p> - -<p>She turned and stalked back to the shelf-bed, where she sat down and -deliberately crossed her legs.</p> - -<p>"You will not be required further," the warden told the young man. "See -that you spread not the plague by repeating any of this Jezebel's loose -talk!"</p> - -<p>The guard left hurriedly. Maria discovered the warden gaping at her -knees, and defiantly tossed her head.</p> - -<p>"You never see a leg before?" she demanded. "Or are all the Greenie -girls bowlegged? Is that why they wear those horrible Mother Hubbards?"</p> - -<p>She gave her skirt a malicious twitch, revealing a few more inches of -firm thigh. The warden began to turn red. He muttered something that -actually sounded closer to a prayer than a curse, and turned his eyes -away.</p> - -<p>"I hope those in authority will yield to the importunities of your -depraved fellow who calls himself the Terran consul, and sullies the -clean air of Greenhaven by his very—I hope they do deport you!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, honey! Could you arrange it?" cried Maria, leaping up and -advancing on him.</p> - -<p>She grabbed him just above the elbows, and he broke her hold by -sweeping both hands upward and outward. This offered Maria the -opportunity to take a double grip upon his belt. When he lowered his -hands to free himself, she threw both arms about his neck.</p> - -<p>"I knew someone could fix things up!" she exclaimed. "You're going to -let me out of here until they decide what ship to put me on, aren't -you?"</p> - -<p>The warden's expression was horror-stricken. With a heavy effort, he -got both hands against her and shoved. Maria staggered back all the way -to the bunk. The warden, apparently not quite sure what he had done, -looked down at his hands. He turned them palm up, then, as his gaze met -Maria's, made as if to thrust them behind his back.</p> - -<p>"Relax, honey," she said. "You were a little high. I don't imagine you -have any laws here against shoving a lady on her can—as long as you're -careful where you shove."</p> - -<p>"May the Founders protect me from a forward woman!" breathed the -warden. "Will you be still and listen to me, Jezebel? Or would you -continue ignorant of the news I brought?"</p> - -<p>"What news?"</p> - -<p>"I am instructed to inform you that you have an official visitor. Do -you wish to see him?"</p> - -<p>Maria shoved herself away from the edge of the bunk and assumed a -dignified stance. She tugged her clothing into order.</p> - -<p>"I should be most honored to receive this visitor," she said in -her best imitation of Greenie formality. "I deeply appreciate your -announcing his presence—at last!"</p> - -<p>The warden glared at her. Finding no words worthy of the state of his -blood pressure, he stepped back and slammed the heavy door shut. It -muffled somewhat his departing footsteps.</p> - -<p>"I'm out!" yipped Maria.</p> - -<p>She did a little jig, ran to the door to press an ear against it, and -turned to survey the cell with the fingers of one hand beating a light -tattoo against her lips.</p> - -<p>She crossed to the bunk. From beneath it, she dragged the small -overnight bag she had succeeded in obtaining from the ship before -it had left for the next planet. She began to go about the room, -collecting the few odds and ends she possessed and packing them.</p> - -<p>She was fingering the bristles of her toothbrush for dampness when she -heard returning footsteps.</p> - -<p><i>The hell with brushing my hair</i>, she thought. <i>I'll go as is.</i></p> - -<p>She threw the toothbrush into the bag, tossed her hairbrush on top, and -snapped the catch. She considered herself ready.</p> - -<p>The door opened and the warden ushered another man into the cell. Maria -felt a sudden chill.</p> - -<p>The newcomer was a Greenie.</p> - -<p>She looked over his shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the Terran -consul, but there were just the two Greenies facing her. The stranger -was nearer in age to the young guard than to the warden. On the other -hand, the severity of his expression was a challenge to the older man. -The uniform was about the same.</p> - -<p>"My name is John Willard," he announced flatly.</p> - -<p>He reached into an inner pocket to produce a fold of papers. At the -edge of one, Maria caught sight of what she guessed to be an official -seal. Willard opened the papers and turned to the warden.</p> - -<p>"You identify the prisoner before us as one Maria Ringstad, native of -Terra?"</p> - -<p>"I do!" said the warden, righteously.</p> - -<p>"You will please sign this statement to that effect!"</p> - -<p>There was silence in the cell as the warden held the document against -the door to scribble his signature. Maria watched in growing chagrin. -Willard folded the statement of identification, returned it to his -pocket, and faced her.</p> - -<p>"Maria Ringstad," he said, "I am to inform you that your appeal has -been denied. You will accompany me to Corrective Farm Number Five, -where I will deliver you to the authorities who will supervise the -serving of your sentence."</p> - -<p>Maria dropped her bag.</p> - -<p>"<i>What?</i> You're lying! Let me see those phony papers! This is some sort -of—"</p> - -<p>Willard let her have the back of his left hand across the face. Maria -never saw it until she was falling. She sat down with a thump, her legs -stretched out straight before her.</p> - -<p>Unbelievingly, she watched Willard sign a copy of his order for the -warden. The latter examined it with satisfaction before tucking it -away. They turned to look down at her, and Willard announced that he -was ready to leave.</p> - -<p>He seemed to think that a good way to forestall an argument was to get -her moving as quickly as possible. He yanked on one elbow, the warden -pulled on the other, and Maria headed for the door at a smart trot, -wondering how she had risen.</p> - -<p>"My bag!" she protested.</p> - -<p>"I have it," said Willard.</p> - -<p>"Turn left for the stairs," said the warden.</p> - -<p>"I'm not going!" she yelled.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are," said Willard.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are!" echoed the warden.</p> - -<p>They reached the head of the stairs, where the warden released his -grip. Willard shoved her forward, and the two of them descended with -breakneck lack of balance. At the bottom, they paused for the warden to -catch up.</p> - -<p>Maria seized the chance to kick Willard in the shin. He turned white, -but urged her on as the warden led the way through a barred door into -an open courtyard. They crossed the courtyard by fits and starts, with -Maria expressing her opinion in words she had never before uttered. -The meaning of certain of them still eluded her, but Willard seemed to -understand the general drift.</p> - -<p>The warden spoke to a guard, ordering him to open the main gate. -Willard boosted her through with a knee in the behind. The massive -portal swung to with a thud, leaving them out in the street.</p> - -<p>"I'll be damned if I go to any prison farm!" Maria shouted in his ear. -"I demand to see the Terran consul! This is an outrage!"</p> - -<p>Willard glared at a passing Greenie who seemed disposed to look on. -He tightened his grip on Maria's arm, the better to tow her twenty -feet down the street away from the gate. There, he backed her roughly -against the blank granite wall.</p> - -<p>"If you don't shut your face," he growled between set teeth, "I'll -<i>really</i> belt you one!"</p> - -<p>Maria gasped in a breath and looked at him. It was easy, since he had -thrust his face to within a few inches of hers. Little droplets of -perspiration stood out on his forehead.</p> - -<p>He looked scared.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="SEVEN" id="SEVEN">SEVEN</a></h2> - - -<p>Westehvelt was still sitting with Joe Rosenkrantz in the communications -room when Colborn's call came through. He looked over Joe's shoulder as -the operator swiveled to face his telephone viewer.</p> - -<p>"How come you remembered the number?" he greeted Colborn. "Did the -elevator doors close on you?"</p> - -<p>"Very-funny-ha-ha!" retorted Colborn. "Look, Joe—have you got power?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt peered closer, thinking that the redhead looked unusually -concerned. Rosenkrantz seemed not to have noticed.</p> - -<p>"Power?" he said. "Have I got power! I can pull in stations you never -heard of, just on willpower! <i>You</i>—you poor slob—you don't even -remember if you're on your way home or coming to work! What is it now?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you what it is," shouted Colborn. "It's a power failure! -They don't even have any lights out in the street. I nearly got -trampled to death getting back in the lobby to phone you."</p> - -<p>Westervelt and Rosenkrantz looked at each other.</p> - -<p>"Come to think of it, Charlie," said the operator, "the lights did -blink a minute ago. I wonder if that was our own power taking over for -the whole floor?"</p> - -<p>They saw Colborn turn his head, and heard him expostulating with -someone who plainly was impatient to get into the phone cubicle.</p> - -<p>"I'll go check the meters," said Rosenkrantz. "Watch the space set for -me, Willie!"</p> - -<p>"Whuh-wh-wha?" stuttered Westervelt, groping after him. "Charlie! He -went away! What do I do if a call comes in?"</p> - -<p>Colborn finished dealing with his own problem downstairs, and returned -his attention to Westervelt. He requested a repeat.</p> - -<p>"I said that Joe went around the corner to check the power," babbled -the youth. "What do I do if a space call comes in? He said to watch the -set."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Colborn. "You see the little red, star-shaped light at the -left of the board under the screen?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah, yeah! It's out, Charlie!"</p> - -<p>"Well, it should be. It's an automatic call indicator set for our code. -If it goes on, it shows you're getting a call even if you have the -screen too dark or the audio too low to notice. So you look for a green -one like it on the other side...."</p> - -<p>"Yeah. I see it."</p> - -<p>"You push the button beside it, and our code goes out automatically to -acknowledge. Then you push the next button underneath, which puts out a -repeating signal to stand by. Got that so far?"</p> - -<p>"I got it," said Westervelt. "Then what?"</p> - -<p>"Then you go scream for Joe at the top of your lungs. That covers -everything. You are now a deep-space operator. Just don't touch any of -those buttons until you get a license!"</p> - -<p>"But, Charlie—!"</p> - -<p>He was saved by the return of Rosenkrantz, for whom he thankfully -vacated space before the phone. Colborn was again engaged in making -faces at some other desperate commuter.</p> - -<p>"You were right, Charlie," said Rosenkrantz. "We're strictly on our -own private power. The whole floor, as near as I can tell. I thought -they were being fussy when they put it in, but maybe it will pay off at -that. How does it look down there?"</p> - -<p>"It's a mess," said Colborn. "You wouldn't believe there were so many -people working in our building."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" said Rosenkrantz. "I mean, what's the situation? Is it just -this building that's cut off, or the whole city, or what?"</p> - -<p>"You can't believe anything they're saying," Colborn told them, "but -they had somebody yapping on the public address system. It seems -there's a whole section of the city, about fifty blocks square, cut -off. They're talking about a main cable overloading."</p> - -<p>"I can imagine what they're saying," said Rosenkrantz. "The poor guys -stuck with finding and replacing it, I mean."</p> - -<p>Colborn gave a hollow laugh.</p> - -<p>"You think they're the only ones stuck? There ain't a single subway -belt moving to the surburban heliports. All the local surface monorails -are stopped. You should see the way they're packing the ground taxis, -and the cops won't let any more helicabs come down."</p> - -<p>"They're supposed only to pick up from the roofs," said Rosenkrantz.</p> - -<p>"That isn't where the people are. The people are all down here with me, -and half of them are trying to get in the booth to tell their wives -they won't be home. Well, there's a lot of us won't get home tonight, -if the boys don't find that break pretty soon."</p> - -<p>Westervelt and Rosenkrantz exchanged glances. The youth shrugged; he -had been planning on staying late anyhow.</p> - -<p>"Tell him to come back up, Joe," he suggested. "We have food in the -locker for visitors, and he can clear a table in here to snooze on."</p> - -<p>Colborn had heard him, and was shaking his head.</p> - -<p>"I'd like nothing better, Willie," he said, "but I might as well start -walking. It's better on the level than on the stairs."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean—stairs?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know about the other buildings around here, but they -regretfully announced that there will be no elevators running above -the seventy-fifth floor in this one. In fact, they only have partial -service that high, on the building's emergency power generator."</p> - -<p>Rosenkrantz looked worried. Broodingly, he fumbled out a box of -cigarettes.</p> - -<p>"What do you think, Charlie?" he asked. "I mean ... Lydman."</p> - -<p>"That's why I called," said Colborn. "I think you better check the -stairs and tell Smith. If he starts our boy down them, the ninety-nine -floors will give him something to keep his mind busy."</p> - -<p>The pressure from outside finally intimidated him into switching off. -The last they saw of him on the fading phone screen, he was striving -desperately to ease himself out of the booth in the face of a bellowing -rush of harried commuters for the phone. Joe sighed, trying to light -his smoke from the wrong end of the box.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to check our elevator, Joe," Westervelt said.</p> - -<p>He left the communications room and trotted up the corridor and around -the corner. Through the main doors, he caught sight of Pauline peering -out of her compartment. A thought struck him.</p> - -<p>He hurried over to her and thrust his head close to the opening in her -glass partition.</p> - -<p>"Were you still on that line, Cutie?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"What line?" demanded Pauline indignantly. "Oh, Willie, does this mean -we have to walk down twenty-five floors tonight?"</p> - -<p>"You little—Listen! Don't let out a peep about this until we know -more!"</p> - -<p>"Why not, Willie?"</p> - -<p>"Do you want to get everybody upset? How can they dream up brilliant -ideas while they're worrying about ordering sandwiches sent up? -Promise!"</p> - -<p>Pauline reluctantly gave her word not to say anything without -consulting him. Westervelt returned to the hall, where he pressed the -button for the elevator.</p> - -<p>He waited about three times as long as it usually took to get a -car, then tried again with the same lack of results. Looking up, he -discovered that even the red light over the entrance to the stairs was -out. That, apparently, had not been part of the ninety-ninth floor -system now powered by their own generator.</p> - -<p>Westervelt took the few steps to the doorway concealing the stairs. -There was a beautifully reproduced notice on the door, informing all -persons that this was an emergency exit and that the door would open -automatically in case of fire or other emergency. It further offered -detailed directions on how to leave, which in simple language meant "go -downstairs."</p> - -<p>"The door is shut," muttered Westervelt, "so that proves there isn't -any emergency."</p> - -<p>He tried the handle. It did not budge, except for a slight clicking.</p> - -<p>Feeling slightly uneasy, he leaned over to squint at the crack of the -door. He spotted the latch, a sturdy bar, and saw that he was moving -it. There was, however, another bar which did not move, and the door -refused to slide open.</p> - -<p>"Of course," he breathed. "It's made to open automatically. How would -they do that? By electricity. What haven't we got plenty of? The damn' -thing's locked! Somebody designed a beautiful set-up!"</p> - -<p>He looked about the empty corridor, jittering indecisively.</p> - -<p>"I could call downstairs before I tell Smitty," he reminded himself.</p> - -<p>For the sake of having a handy shoulder to cry on, he went all the way -back to the communications room to use a phone. He made a gesture of -throwing up his hands as Joe looked around, then got Pauline on the -phone.</p> - -<p>"See if you can get me the building manager's office," he requested. -"Don't be surprised if it's busy for a couple of minutes."</p> - -<p>It was nearer fifteen minutes before his call went through. During -that time, he learned that Rosenkrantz took a serious view of the -inconvenience.</p> - -<p>"I guess you heard some of the talk about Bob Lydman," said the -operator. "Well, some is imagination, but a lot of it's true. He spent -a long time in a hellhole out among the stars; and if there's anything -that might shove him off course, it's the idea that he can't get <i>out</i>. -No matter where he is, he has to know he can leave when he feels like -it!"</p> - -<p>"But if he doesn't know about it?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"How long can you keep it quiet? I bet you can see a blackout from the -window. Watch the set—I'll take a look."</p> - -<p>"Aw, now, wait a minute, Joe!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt's consternation was diverted by the call that came through -at that moment. A perspiring face with ruffled gray hair—which -Westervelt could remember having seen occasionally about the lobby -downstairs, looking extremely sleek and well-groomed—appeared on the -phone screen.</p> - -<p>"If you're above the seventy-fifth, walk down that far. If you're -lower, walk down as far as you can," said the man hoarsely. "If you can -stay put, that's the best thing."</p> - -<p>"Tell me, what—?"</p> - -<p>"Power failure, not responsibility of the building management," said -the sweating gentleman. "Please co-operate!"</p> - -<p>"But what—?"</p> - -<p>"We're doing all we can and this phone is busy, young man! Will you -please—"</p> - -<p>"The stairs are locked!" shouted Westervelt.</p> - -<p>For a moment, he doubted that he had penetrated the official's panic. -Then he saw new outrage in the man's eyes.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt explained about the door to the stairs. The gentleman -downstairs clapped both hands to his moist cheeks. He had begun to look -numb.</p> - -<p>After a long pause, he pulled himself together enough to promise that -he would look into the matter. As he switched off, Westervelt heard him -muttering that it was just too much.</p> - -<p>"You hear that, Joe?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, an' I didn't like it," replied the operator. "What does that -leave us ... no elevators, no stairs ... how about the helicopter roof?"</p> - -<p>"You have to walk up a flight of stairs to get there," said Westervelt, -thinking of the department's three helicopters garaged on their private -tower roof. "It's the same door. I suppose the door at the top is -frozen too."</p> - -<p>"Well, anyway, that could be worse," said Joe. "That makes two doors -to knock open, an' I bet your boys have some little gadget around that -will do that."</p> - -<p>Westervelt felt better. There was always a way out, he told himself. -Just the same, he thought he had better let Smith know about the -situation.</p> - -<p>He told Joe where he was going and headed back up the hall. When he -reached the corner, he tried the door again for luck. The luck was the -same.</p> - -<p>He wondered whether to go look in the lab for some burning tool. On -second thought, he decided that if any damage had to be done to the -building, it was not his responsibility. He turned to enter the main -office, flashing Pauline a wink that he hoped would look reassuring.</p> - -<p>Simonetta was busy with a case folder but Beryl was seizing an -opportunity to repair her nail polish of irridescent gold. She eyed him -curiously as he bent over to whisper into the brunette's ear.</p> - -<p>"Are they still talking in there, Si?" he asked.</p> - -<p>She drew away with a mock frown, demanding, "What's so confidential? -Are you spying for Yoleen?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt scowled over her head out the window. It was twilight -outside, and he noted that there were only a few dim lights in nearby -tall buildings.</p> - -<p>"I just wanted to see Mr. Smith," he forced himself to say.</p> - -<p>"Don't tell me that you want to go home, now that you got all the rest -of us to say we'd stay?"</p> - -<p>She softened when she saw that he had no wisecrack in readiness.</p> - -<p>"You know I didn't mean that, Willie," she said. "Is something the -matter?"</p> - -<p>Of all the people in the department, Simonetta was the one he found -it easiest to confide in. He had to struggle with himself, especially -since he saw no reason why she should not know.</p> - -<p>"I ... uh ... just wanted to see him a minute," he said lamely. "I'll -come back later."</p> - -<p>He got out of the office, feeling his neck burn under the combined -stares of the two girls.</p> - -<p>In the corridor, he halted to survey the sealed-off means of egress. -Both the elevator and the stairway door looked normal enough except for -the red exit light being dark. Westervelt wondered if it would be smart -to go around and adjust all the window filters so that no one would -expect to see many city lights should they happen to glance outside.</p> - -<p>He went over to the door for one last examination, wishing that it were -a hinged type instead of sliding. While he was bending to peep at the -lock, he heard a sound behind him and leaped up guiltily.</p> - -<p>Smith stood six feet away, outside the hall door of his office. He had -planted one fist on his hip and was running the other hand through his -rumpled hair as he gaped at Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"There's no keyhole there, Willie," he said at last.</p> - -<p>Westervelt had the feeling that he ought to offer the perfectly simple -explanation with which he had been living for what seemed like hours. -The words refused to come.</p> - -<p>"Does this have anything to do with the message Si just brought me?" -demanded Smith.</p> - -<p>"What message?" asked Westervelt, clearing his throat.</p> - -<p>"The police called and claimed someone reported seeing, from the air, -three helicopters being stolen from our roof."</p> - -<p>"Did she say that?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"She had the sense to write it down and show me while they were talking -about submarines. Something about the way she winked made me think I'd -better come out, so I told the boys I was going down the hall a minute."</p> - -<p>Westervelt heaved a sigh. He would not have to be alert to duck an -aroused Lydman charging down the corridor.</p> - -<p>"Then, Mr. Smith," he suggested, "let's walk down that way in case -someone comes out and sees us, and I'll tell you all about it."</p> - -<p>"They shouldn't be out for a while," Smith commented, examining the -youth doubtfully. "I started a little argument before I came out."</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he followed Westervelt around the far corner, to the -wing leading to the laboratory and rest rooms. They had gone perhaps -ten feet past the corner when Westervelt finished the report on the -elevators and came to the frozen locks on the stairway door.</p> - -<p>Smith stopped in his tracks, as if to run back and check for himself; -but restrained himself.</p> - -<p>"You're absolutely sure, Willie?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"You can check with Joe Rosenkrantz, Mr. Smith. Or you can call the -office of the building manager downstairs."</p> - -<p>Smith rubbed his high-bridged nose as he pondered. His lips moved, and -Westervelt thought he read the name "Lydman." Then Smith checked off on -his fingers, muttering, the stairs, elevators, and helicopters.</p> - -<p>"No wonder they were stolen," he said. "Someone saw a chance to make -some easy money with all the helitaxis taken. The police will find them -tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"Meanwhile, I guess it's some trouble to us," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it might be some trouble," admitted Smith, and this time said it -aloud: "Lydman! We won't mention it to him yet, right, Willie?"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="EIGHT" id="EIGHT">EIGHT</a></h2> - - -<p>The room would have been nearly a cube except for the fact that hardly -any parallel lines appeared in its design. The corners were rounded and -the ceiling slightly arched. The floor, though much of it was obscured -by a plentiful supply of cushions, was obviously several inches higher -in the center than where it curved up to meet the walls. All surfaces -were the color of old ivory but seemed to be of a more porous material. -The cushions could have been cut from slabs of some foamy, resilient -substance that had been manufactured in several rather dull colors.</p> - -<p>On two of the larger cushions placed end to end, lay a blond man, long -and lean. He wore a dark gray coverall that was loose as if he had lost -weight. His features had a poor color, a golden tan with something -unhealthy underlying it. He was, however, clean and recently shaven, -and his hair was cut short, if somewhat raggedly. He stirred, then -blinked into the soft light of an elliptical fixture recessed into the -ceiling.</p> - -<p>With a smothered groan, he came completely awake. Very carefully, as -if from long habit of avoiding painful movement, he rolled to his left -side and braced one hand against the floor. The effort of sitting up -made him bare his clenched teeth.</p> - -<p>The grimace was fleeting. He seemed to have some purpose that drove -him on to roll completely off the makeshift bed until he knelt with -both knees and his left hand on the smooth floor. As he paused to rest, -he held his right hand close to his body.</p> - -<p>After a moment, he brought his right foot up opposite his left knee. -Another rest period, on hand, knee, and foot, was required before -he shoved himself away from the floor and slowly stood upright. The -ceiling suddenly looked too low.</p> - -<p>He was tall, perhaps two inches over six feet. His features were -regular without being especially handsome. A man sizing him up might -have expected him to weigh about a hundred and ninety pounds, but -slight hollows in his cheeks suggested that this would not be true at -the moment. His eyes were blue, but the lids drooped and he seemed to -focus only vaguely upon his surroundings.</p> - -<p>At length, the man turned and walked deliberately to the side of the -room where a doorless opening offered egress into what looked like a -corridor. The opening was in the shape of an ellipse about five feet -high and three wide, beginning a few inches above the floor. He bent to -thrust his head into the hall, peering in both directions but taking no -heed of faint, scurrying sounds out there. Satisfied, he walked back to -his bed, turned over a cushion with his toe, and kicked a small utility -bag of gray plastic out into the open.</p> - -<p>The man stared at the bag for some minutes before reaching an evidently -unwelcome decision. Laboriously, then, he knelt until he could slide -one end under a knee and slide open the zipper with his left hand. -He pawed out a few items—battery shaver, towel, deck of cards, -toothbrush—which he left scattered on the floor as soon as he located -the object of his search. This was a many-jointed mechanism of metal -that resembled an armored centipede. It was as long as his hand and -nearly as broad. He held it in his palm as if wondering what to do with -it.</p> - -<p>Some slow process of judgment having blossomed in his mind, he turned -over the object to press a small stud. The plates of the "belly" -parted. From a recess there, he fumbled out a miniature accessory -that fitted easily in the palm of his hand. This was round, about an -inch thick, and might have been made of black plastic. The man's lips -twitched in a tired smile as he hefted it pensively.</p> - -<p>Without moving from his kneeling position, he thumbed a nearly -concealed switch on the edge of the disk. Within seconds, the thing -began to put forth music, a diminutive reproduction of the sound of a -full orchestra. The man gradually raised his hand until he held the -little player to his ear. His expression remained uncomprehending. He -lowered his hand, shrugging slightly, and turned off the music.</p> - -<p>Once more, he forced himself laboriously to his feet. Leaving his other -belongings on the floor without a backward glance, he strode to the -door with the pace of a man who has just walked five or ten miles. His -long legs carried him across the distance in only a few steps, but -there was a slowness, a heaviness, in their motion that revealed a deep -weariness. He raised one foot just high enough to step through the -opening into the corridor.</p> - -<p>Outside, he turned left and walked along at the same pace, passing -several other doors at irregular intervals. That they may have led to -other rooms with other occupants seemed to interest him not at all. -He neither glanced aside nor paused until he came face to face with a -barrier, a wall blocking his path.</p> - -<p>It was the first doorway that sported a door, and the latter was -closed. It looked to be made of a plastic substance, darker than the -ivory walls among which he had thus far moved, but smoother. There was -a grilled opening more or less centered, but no other markings.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the blond man seemed to know where the portal would be -fastened. He ran the tips of his fingers along one curved side, as if -judging a distance. Juggling the black disk in his hand until the grip -suited him better, he pressed a second switch, which was concealed at -the center of the object.</p> - -<p>A thin jet of flame, so white that it far outshone the lighting of the -corridor, flared against the edge of the door. He moved the flame along -the edge for about two feet. Then he snapped it out and waited with his -eyes blinking painfully. The corridor lighting had been revealed to be -yellow and dim.</p> - -<p>Having rested, the man took a deep breath and shoved with his left -shoulder against the elliptical door. It slipped off whatever had been -holding it at the opposite edge and fell into the hallway beyond the -bulkhead. He had neatly cut through two hinges on the other side.</p> - -<p>Without looking back, he stepped over the loose door and continued on -his way. Eventually, he came to another such barrier, and he dealt with -it in the same fashion. The third time he was halted, he found himself -at a vertical column which passed down through an oval opening in the -ceiling and disappeared through another in the floor of the corridor.</p> - -<p>The man hesitated. A vague sadness flitted across his features. Then, -as if driven by some deep purpose, he approached the column.</p> - -<p>It was about six inches in diameter, and the most regular shape he -had encountered anywhere. The surface of it was ringed by horizontal -grooves nearly an inch deep, and looked as if it would be easy to -climb. From the hole below, there rose slightly warmer air, bearing a -blend of pungent and musty odors. The man's nostrils wrinkled.</p> - -<p>He stepped to the edge of the opening, then sidled around until he had -the greatest possible space on his side of the column. The instrument -in his hand finally came to his attention as he reached out to touch -the grooved surface. He considered it for a long moment. Apparently, -he was pleased at the brilliance of the thought that eventually moved -him to thrust the thing into a pocket of his pants. He faced the -column again, and again hesitated. His right hand lifted an inch, -indecisively, following which a snarl of pain twisted his lips.</p> - -<p>Sidling around the opening once more until he found himself having -completed a circuit, he let the fingers of his left hand explore the -grooves. It did not seem to occur to him to look either down or up, -although faint, distant sounds were borne to him on the current of -odoriferous air.</p> - -<p>In the end, he leaned forward until his left shoulder came against the -slim column. He wrapped his left arm about it. A little scrambling, -and he had gripped it between his legs. Then a slight relaxation of -his hold permitted him to slide gradually downward until he slipped -past the floor line. There were only a few inches to spare between his -shoulders and the edge of the opening, as if the latter had not been -designed for such as he.</p> - -<p>The next level into which he descended was dark. He continued to slide -cautiously downward.</p> - -<p>At the second level below his starting point, there was light. The -corridor resembled that in which he had begun his journey. He put out -one foot to catch the edge of the opening while he rested.</p> - -<p>This hallway curved not far from the man in one direction, although the -other side ran straight for about twenty feet before being closed off -by a door similar to the one he had removed. Around the bend floated -faint noises suggesting high-pitched conversation, although they came -from too far away to reveal the nature of their origin. The tall man -kept one eye cocked warily in that direction.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes, certain sounds seemed to draw nearer. The -cluttering "talk" faded, but he could hear more plainly a hushed -scuffling that could have been caused by many feet taking short, -hurried steps.</p> - -<p>The man released his foothold and slid smoothly below the floor -level just as moving shadows appeared at the bend of the corridor. He -dropped down the column through four more unlighted levels, reaching an -atmosphere that held a blend of machine oil along with its other odors.</p> - -<p>Light filtered upward with the air currents. Somewhere below was a very -bright level, whence came the rhythmic throb of heavy machinery. This -did not resemble the sounds of a spaceship, nor yet a Terran factory, -but some considerable work was being carried on. He groped out in the -darkness for a foothold, got the other foot over, and wearily pushed -himself away from the column.</p> - -<p>He was on a level so dim that he touched the edge of the floor opening -with his toe to make sure of its location before moving off along the -corridor.</p> - -<p>In the darkness, he went more slowly than before, but made better -time than looked possible. Under the circumstances, he reassured -himself by stretching out his left hand every few seconds to touch the -smooth wall. He walked normally, though not noisily, and his sense of -direction was extraordinarily good.</p> - -<p>About a hundred yards along a corridor that seemed not to have a single -bend or corner, he slowed his pace doubtfully. A few steps more brought -him to another closed door. This one, however, yielded to his shove, -swinging back to reveal a stretch of tunnel with a bare minimum of -illumination oozing from widely spaced ceiling fixtures. Here, he could -sense side doorways his fingers had usually missed along the darker -stretch.</p> - -<p>He had gone another hundred yards and finally passed two cross -corridors, before he was again obliged to stop and rest. He slumped -against the side wall, favoring his right arm and gazing dully before -him.</p> - -<p>A few steps further along was one of the typical elliptical doorways. -Through this one, some light was reflected to the wall of the corridor. -The man stared at it in the way anyone in the dark will turn his eye to -light. After several minutes, he moved toward it as if impelled by idle -curiosity.</p> - -<p>Reaching the opening, he hesitated. A strange expression flickered over -his face. The decision to look or not to look was causing him great -uneasiness. Finally, he stepped forward and entered a small chamber.</p> - -<p>This was evidently located so as to house another slim column that -disappeared upward and downward into unknown levels. Several small, -oval windows were set just below the ceiling, at a height which -presented no particular difficulty to the man when he stepped over to -look through them.</p> - -<p>The scene that met his eye was a wide corridor, so wide that it might -be termed a concourse or even a public square. Members of the public -that were to be observed frequenting it were very, very far from being -human.</p> - -<p>Two of them scurried past his window, clearly illuminated by lights far -up in the domed ceiling. They were furry, about five feet tall, lithe -and cat-like in their movements. Compared to a human, they were slim -and short-bodied. They possessed three arms and three legs, each set -being equally spaced about their bodies. Now and then, as they walked -with short, rapid steps, frequent joints were apparent in all limbs, -showing clearly that they were not just muscular tentacles. From the -openings at the apexes of their heads, which must have been mouths, -they were streamlined in a fashion that made it more natural to picture -them swimming like Terran cuttlefish then climbing up and down thick -poles. The three eyes set about each head were low enough to allow for -jaw muscles.</p> - -<p>The man watched this pair slide down a column set beside the wall -that concealed him. Other individuals were scattered about the wide -concourse. Almost without exception, they wore nothing more than a -pouch secured by a belt just above what would have been the hips in -a human. Clothing was made unnecessary by handsome coats of short, -honey-colored fur that enhanced their feline air. Sometimes, when one -or another bent or twisted, purple skin would show through the fur.</p> - -<p>Across the concourse, the man could see open stalls that suggested -shops. Most of them were dark inside, with nettings stretched across -the fronts. The general atmosphere was not unlike that of a small -Terran business section, or even a spaceport terminal, late in the -evening with business slack and only night workers about.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, those abroad scuttled for the walls. A perfectly good reason -for the exodus appeared a moment later, as a column of low, long -vehicles dashed from a high-arched tunnel and shot across the open -space. Each was three-wheeled and carried half a dozen individuals -wearing what resembled thick plastic armor. Cages of metal guarded -their heads and they bore weapons like Terran rocket launchers. The -convoy passed out of sight before the man could note more.</p> - -<p>He retreated thoughtfully from the window. At the opening to the -corridor, he paused indecisively. He shook his head as if trying to put -out of his mind what he had just witnessed.</p> - -<p>It might have been prudent for anyone in his position to give the -corridor a searching look before entering, but this did not seem -to occur to him. In seconds, he was striding along in the former -direction—if anything, a trifle more briskly.</p> - -<p>As he walked, the muffled sounds from the scene he had examined faded -in the distance. Once again, he was alone with his own discreet -footfalls. Several times, he passed junctions of cross corridors, and -once he had to burn open a door; but never did he meet an inhabitant -of the hive-like city. Either the way had been shrewdly chosen or it -was seldom used at this period of the day. Even granting both, his luck -must have been fantastic.</p> - -<p>The corridor had begun to assume an almost hypnotic monotony when it -ended bluntly at a column leading only upward. The man perforce was -faced with the challenge of climbing it, a prospect which he obviously -did not relish.</p> - -<p>Sighing, he reversed his earlier procedure in sliding down other poles. -With only one good arm, pulling himself up was slow work. It was, -perhaps, only the fact that the levels were constructed to suit beings -five feet tall that made it possible for him to make it to the next -level up. He sat with his legs dangling through the opening, panting, -while perspiration oozed out to bead his forehead.</p> - -<p>This time, he was nearly half an hour in recovering and working up -the determination required to go on. The corridor in which he found -himself ran at right angles to the one below. It was wider and higher, -as if more traveled, but any such open area as he had peeped at was far -to the rear. Nearby, however, was a much larger door than he had yet -encountered. He walked over to it.</p> - -<p>When a tentative push produced no results, he dipped his left hand into -a pocket for the black disk.</p> - -<p>He seemed to have a good idea of where to locate the hinges on this -door too. When he had burned through, the door was harder to shove -aside because it turned out to be of double thickness. The hinges had -been concealed from both inside and outside. The tall man now found -himself only a few steps from another such portal, in what looked like -an anteroom.</p> - -<p>Methodically, he proceeded to burn his way through, squinting in the -bright light of the flame but otherwise betraying no emotion.</p> - -<p>The last door fell away. Fresh air billowed in around him, and he could -see stars in a night sky outside.</p> - -<p>Without haste, he stepped outside.</p> - -<p>The tan, plastery wall reared above him for about ten levels. Off -to his left, shadows on the ground showed a jagged shape, so it was -probable that another part of the building towered upward after a -set-back. The ground around the exit was perfectly level and bare of -any vegetation. The nearest life was a wall of shrub-like trees about a -hundred feet away, and toward these the man began to walk in the same -tired pace.</p> - -<p>He found, as if by instinct, a broad, well-kept path through the trees. -A mild breeze caused the long, hanging leaves to rustle. Without -looking back, the man followed the path up a gentle slope and over the -curve of the hill. At the bottom of the downgrade, two figures shrank -suddenly back into the shadows. He kept walking.</p> - -<p>"That you, Gerson?" came a loud whisper, as the two Terrans stepped -forward again. "Come on; we have an aircar over here! Did anyone follow -you?"</p> - -<p>The tall man turned to go with them through a fringe of trees. It -seemed like a poor time to try to talk, with the possibility of pursuit -behind them. The two bundled him into the black shape of the aircar -in silence, and moved it cautiously through the trees just above the -ground. They raised into clear air only when they had put half a mile -between them and the towering hive-city.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="NINE" id="NINE">NINE</a></h2> - - -<p>In the library, between Smith's corner office and the conference -room that adjoined the communications center, Westervelt sat and -watched Lydman pore over a technical report in the blue binding of -the Department of Interstellar Relations. Half a dozen other volumes, -old and new, technical and diplomatic, were scattered about the table -between them.</p> - -<p>The youth caught himself running a hand through his hair in Smith's -usual manner, and stopped, appalled. He judged, after due reflection, -that it might be worse: he could have picked up some of Lydman's -peculiarities instead.</p> - -<p>Probably, he told himself, he ought to show some better sense and -imitate the suavity of Parrish if he had to adopt the manners of anyone -in the department. Unfortunately, he did not like Parrish very well, -even when he was not engaged in being actively jealous of the man.</p> - -<p>Some day, Willie, he mused, you'll snap too. When you do, it would be -just your style to take after this mass of beef in front of you.</p> - -<p>Immediately, he was ashamed of the thought. Lydman had been, in his -way, nicer to him than anyone else. Moreover, he was far from being a -mass of beef. Westervelt recalled the sight of Lydman on an open beach, -where he seemed more at ease than anywhere else. The man kept himself -hard-muscled and trim. Despite the gaunt look that sometimes crossed -his features, he was probably on the low side of thirty.</p> - -<p><i>So he's still quick as well as strong</i>, thought Westervelt. <i>If he -does go for the door the way Joe predicts, Willie my boy, you be sure -to get out of the way!</i></p> - -<p>In theory, he was supposed to be helping Lydman research some problems -Smith had thought up. So far, he had read one short article which had -bored the ex-spacer and twice gone to the files for case folders. He -was very well aware that the real idea was to have someone with Lydman -constantly. For this reason, he was prepared further to assume the -courtesy of answering any interrupting phone calls. He was determined -that any news not censored by Pauline would be a wrong number, no -matter if it were the head of the D.I.R. himself.</p> - -<p>Lydman looked up from his reading.</p> - -<p>"I'm getting hungry; aren't you, Willie?"</p> - -<p>"I guess so. I didn't notice," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"How about phoning down for something? Get whatever you like."</p> - -<p>That was typical of Lydman, Westervelt realized. The man did not care -what he ate. Smith would have been specific though unimaginative. -Parrish would have sent instructions about the seasoning. The girls -would choose something sickening by Westervelt's standards. He shoved -back his chair and stood up.</p> - -<p>"I'd better see what they're doing up front," he said. "I think Mr. -Smith was talking about it being quicker to raid our own food locker. -I'll be back in a minute."</p> - -<p>Lydman raised his gray-blue eyes and stared through him curiously.</p> - -<p>"No hurry," he said mildly.</p> - -<p>Westervelt thought that the man was still watching him as he walked -through the door, but he did not like to look back. It might have been -so.</p> - -<p>When he reached the main office, he found both girls replacing folders -in the bay of current files opposite Simonetta's desk.</p> - -<p>"How about letting me at the buried treasure?" he asked. "The thought -of food is infiltrating insidiously."</p> - -<p>"Willie," said Simonetta, "you'll go far here. None of the other brains -had such a good idea. I'll phone for something if you'll see what -people want."</p> - -<p>"I think Mr. Smith wants to use stuff we have in the locker," said -Westervelt, blocking the way to her desk. "Hold it a second while I -check."</p> - -<p>He rapped on Smith's door as he opened it. He found the chief with -most of the papers on his desk shoved to one side so that a built-in -tape viewer could be brought up from its concealed position. Smith was -scowling as if obtaining little useful information from whatever he was -watching.</p> - -<p>"They're getting hungry," Westervelt whispered. "Is it all right to -raid our guest locker?"</p> - -<p>Smith shut off his machine, and scrubbed one hand across his long face.</p> - -<p>"Right, Willie," he agreed. "The sooner the better. Take out whatever -you think best and pass it around. Meanwhile, I'd better check on the -situation downstairs—come to think of it, when you called, did you get -an outside line and punch the numbers yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No, but I have an understanding with Pauline," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>He was thinking that Smith had put him in charge of the food, which was -perhaps a little better than being sent around to take personal orders -as the girls had assumed he would do, but which was still a long way -beneath the conference status he had appeared to have an hour earlier.</p> - -<p>"Good boy!" Smith approved. "Then she'll know who I want to talk to and -that she shouldn't listen in."</p> - -<p>Westervelt was far from sanguine about the last condition, but left -without trying to cause his chief any unhappiness.</p> - -<p><i>Well, so it goes, he reflected. One minute a project man, the next an -office boy! If I pick out what everybody likes, I'll be a project man -again. But if they like it too much, I'll turn out to be the official -chef around here whenever someone important stays to lunch.</i></p> - -<p>The picture of sitting in on a talk with some potent official of the -D.I.R. and expounding his brilliant solution to a problem, only to be -requested to slap together a short order meal, made him pause outside -the door, frowning.</p> - -<p>"Now what, Willie?" asked Simonetta.</p> - -<p>He roused himself.</p> - -<p>"Leave it to me, Si," he answered, working up a grin. "I have -everything under control."</p> - -<p>"I hope you know what you're doing," Beryl commented. "I won't stand -for a plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, or anything that fattening."</p> - -<p>"You'll have your choice," Westervelt promised. "I wouldn't want -anything to spoil that figure. Just let me at the locker."</p> - -<p>He slipped an arm around her waist to move her aside. The flesh of her -flank was softly firm under his fingers, and he made himself think -better of an impulse to squeeze.</p> - -<p>Beryl stepped away, neither quickly enough to be skittish nor slowly -enough to imply permissiveness. Westervelt shrugged. He stepped forward -to the blank wall at the end of the file cabinets, and slid back a -panel to reveal a white-enameled food locker.</p> - -<p>It was divided into an upper and lower section, with transparent -doors that rolled around into the side walls. The lower half was -refrigerated. Westervelt opened the upper to explore more comfortably.</p> - -<p>Most of the foiled packages contained sandwiches, many of them -self-heating. Somewhat bulkier containers held more substantial -delicacies: Welsh rabbit, turkey and baked potato, filet mignon, -rattlesnake croquettes, and salmon salad. There were sealed cups of -coffee, tea, or bouillon that heated themselves upon being opened, and -ice cream and fruits in the freezer section.</p> - -<p>"Si, let me have a couple of 'out' baskets," said Westervelt, holding -out his hand.</p> - -<p>"Empty?"</p> - -<p>"All right—your 'in' and Beryl's 'out' trays. Do you expect me to go -around with everybody's supper stuffed in my pockets?"</p> - -<p>"Frankly, yes," said Beryl. "But not with mine. Let me see what they -have in there!"</p> - -<p>She examined the array while Westervelt experimented with balancing -two empty desk trays across his forearm. By the time he was ready, the -girls had blocked him off, and he had to wait until the possibilities -had been debated thoroughly. In the end, Simonnetta selected veal -scallopini; and Beryl took a crabmeat sandwich for herself and a filet -mignon for Parrish. Westervelt grinned when he saw that she also chose -four sealed martinis.</p> - -<p>His own decisions were simple. Putting aside a budding curiosity about -rattlesnake meat, he took a package of fried ham and eggs—to see if it -could be possible—and a self-heating package of mince pie. For Smith, -Lydman, and Rosenkrantz, he piled a tray with half a dozen roast beef -or turkey sandwiches, a selection of pie and ice cream, and all the -coffee containers he could fit in.</p> - -<p>"Si, pick out something nice for Pauline," he requested, noting that -Beryl was already on the way across the office to Parrish's door.</p> - -<p>Simonetta exclaimed at her forgetfulness, pushed aside the container -that she had been warming on her desk according to instructions, and -told him to go ahead.</p> - -<p>"I'll take her a salad and some bouillon," she said. "The kid thinks -she has to watch her weight already."</p> - -<p>As an afterthought, Westervelt topped his load with a martini for -Smith, on the theory that the chief was going to need it.</p> - -<p>He went in there first, let Smith see that nothing but coffee was on -the way to Lydman, and made his exit directly into the hall. He made -the communications room his next stop, and took what was left into the -library to share with Lydman.</p> - -<p>The latter took a roast beef sandwich, pulled the heating tab, and -tore it open after the required thirty seconds with one twist of his -powerful fingers. Westervelt had a little more trouble with his package -of ham and eggs, but the coffee cups were simpler.</p> - -<p>They sat there in silence, except for an occasional word, and a brief -scramble when Westervelt spilled coffee on a list of cases Lydman had -thought of for further checking. The ex-spacer chewed methodically on -three sandwiches, and poured down two containers of coffee, scanning a -copy of the <i>Galatlas</i> all the while.</p> - -<p>Westervelt found the fried ham and eggs to be a disappointment.</p> - -<p><i>I should have tried a steak</i>, he reflected. <i>Eggs can't be done. Not -and taste right.</i></p> - -<p>There was one sandwich left, cold turkey, and Lydman had just begun -on his third, so the youth helped himself. The hot mince pie had -real flavor, and he was feeling quite comfortable by the time Lydman -finished his ice cream.</p> - -<p>"Shall I get some more coffee?" Westervelt offered.</p> - -<p>"Not for me," said the other. "If you go back, though, you could pick -up those folders."</p> - -<p>Westervelt took the excuse to leave for a few minutes. He stopped in to -see if Joe wanted anything, promised to look for bourbon, and returned -to the main office. He found Simonetta sipping a solitary cup of coffee.</p> - -<p>"Did they leave you all alone?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no," she said. "The boss came out and had coffee with Pauline and -me, but then she had a call for him and he thought he'd rather take it -in his office."</p> - -<p>Westervelt stepped over to Smith's door and listened. In theory, it -should have been soundproof, so he opened it a crack. Hearing Smith's -voice, he pushed his luck and put his head inside. The chief was busy -enough on the phone not to be aware of the intrusion.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I appreciate your difficulty," Smith said, obviously having -said it many times before. "Still, if there is no way to send us an -elevator, I would much rather not have a party climbing the twenty-five -flights to break open the door. If it has to be broken, we can do it."</p> - -<p>Westervelt recognized the answering voice, hoarser though it now was, -as that of the silver-haired manager downstairs. He wondered why the -sight of each other did not make both the manager and Smith want to -comb their hair.</p> - -<p>"Naturally, we will make good any damage," Smith said. "Besides, you -must have a good many other people on the lower floors of the tower to -look after."</p> - -<p>"Most of them are displaying the good sense to stay in their offices -until the emergency is dealt with."</p> - -<p>Westervelt crept inside and moved around until he could see the face -pouting on the screen of Smith's phone. The man now had heavy shadows -under his eyes, although he had mopped off the perspiration that had -bathed him when Westervelt had spoken with him.</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps we have slightly different problems," Smith told the -manager.</p> - -<p>"Problems!" exclaimed the latter. His effort to contain his emotions -was clearly visible. "Well ... of course ... if it is really serious, -perhaps we can get the police to send up an emergency rescue squad—"</p> - -<p>"<i>No!</i>" Smith interrupted violently. "No rescue squad! We do not in any -way need to be rescued. Not at all!"</p> - -<p>The manager eyed him with dark suspicion.</p> - -<p>"Is someone ill?" he demanded. "We cannot be responsible for any -lawsuits due to your refusal to let us call competent authorities."</p> - -<p>"Aren't you a competent authority?" demanded Smith. "Just get the -elevator working, will you? We'll wait until then."</p> - -<p>"There is no way of knowing when power will be restored," said the -manager. "You must have a TV set around the office somewhere, so you -can hear the news bulletins on the situation as soon as I can." He -paused to pop a lozenge into his mouth, sighed, and added, "Sooner, I -dare say."</p> - -<p>Smith had leaned back in his chair, a stricken look on his face. He saw -Westervelt, and began to wave frantically toward the hall.</p> - -<p>"I never thought of that," exclaimed the youth.</p> - -<p>He burst into the hall from Smith's private entrance, realized he -would have to pass the library to reach Joe Rosenkrantz with an order -for censorship, and circled back to the main entrance.</p> - -<p>He went in, saw Simonetta still at her desk, and opened the door to -Pauline's cubicle. When he got inside with the little blonde, her -swivel chair, and her switchboard, there was just about room enough to -breathe.</p> - -<p>"Pauline!" he panted. "Punch the com room number and lend me your -headset!"</p> - -<p>"This is cosy!" she giggled, but did as he asked.</p> - -<p>Joe answered promptly.</p> - -<p>"Joe, this is Willie. It just so happens that Charlie Colborn was -changing transistors in all the personal sets you have down there, so -you can't pick up a newscast right now—right?"</p> - -<p>There was a pregnant pause before one answered.</p> - -<p>"Right. That's the way it goes. Can you talk? I don't see any image."</p> - -<p>"I'm with Pauline. It's okay. I mean, it was just a thought, in -case...."</p> - -<p>"Sure," said Rosenkrantz. "Should have thought of it myself. Everything -else all right?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt told him that it was, agreed that he hoped it would -continue. Then he surrendered the headset to Pauline, who tickled his -ribs as he squirmed around to leave the cubicle.</p> - -<p>"Don't you dare!" she giggled when he turned on her. "I'll talk!"</p> - -<p>"Please, no, Pauline," he sighed. "Anything but that!"</p> - -<p>He walked loosely past Simonetta, who stared at him unbelievingly, and -started to enter Smith's office again. Behind him, he heard the sounds -of a door being closed and high heels clicking subduedly on the springy -flooring. Beryl's voice said something as he began to look around. He -stopped.</p> - -<p>"What did she say?" he asked Simonetta.</p> - -<p>Beryl had already disappeared toward the hall.</p> - -<p>"She said Mr. Parrish invited her downstairs for a cocktail. He thinks -they should have about twenty minutes to relax before going back to -work."</p> - -<p>"You're kidding!" gasped Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"No, I'm not! Willie, you've been acting awfully strange. Where have -you been ducking to every time—"</p> - -<p>Westervelt was already running for the hall.</p> - -<p>He skidded and nearly fell going through the entrance. Beryl was -standing near the elevator.</p> - -<p>"Did you ring yet?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"No, I'm waiting for Mr. Parrish," said Beryl, in a tone that -emphasized unwieldiness of an assembly of three persons.</p> - -<p>"Your lipstick is smeared," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>Beryl gave him an even less believing stare than had Simonetta, but, -glancing hastily at her watch, began to fumble out her compact.</p> - -<p>"In here, where the light is better," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>He grabbed her by an elbow and dragged her into the office before it -occurred to her to resist.</p> - -<p>"Please, Willie! You're <i>handling</i> me!" she protested coldly.</p> - -<p>Westervelt was already out the door again, bent upon taking the other -entrance to Smith's office, when he saw the hall door of Parrish's -office open. He reversed direction in time to meet Parrish as the -latter stepped into the corridor.</p> - -<p>"Beryl said to tell you she'll be right back," he said, waving a thumb -vaguely in the direction of the rest rooms.</p> - -<p>"Oh. Thanks, Willie," answered Parrish. "I'll wait inside."</p> - -<p>Westervelt reached Smith's office before Parrish had completely closed -his own door. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blue of Beryl's -dress.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Smith!" he called as he thrust his head inside. "I think I need -help!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="TEN" id="TEN">TEN</a></h2> - - -<p>The first sensation that penetrated, agonizingly, to Taranto's -consciousness was that of heat. Heat, and then the damp itch of soaking -sweat.</p> - -<p>The next feeling, as he groggily sought to take up the slack in his -hanging jaw, was thirst. It was a raging demand that brought him -entirely awake. Before he could control himself, he had emitted a groan.</p> - -<p>Immediately, he was dropped from whatever had been supporting him in a -swaying, dipping fashion. He landed with a thud on the hard ground.</p> - -<p>A chatter of Syssokan broke out above him. It was answered by other -Syssokan voices farther away. Taranto kept his eyes closed and lay -limply where he had sprawled, while he tried to figure out what had -gone wrong.</p> - -<p>Shortly before dawn, he and Meyers had each swallowed his capsule as -directed. He remembered a period of vague drowsiness after that, then -nothing more until he had been awakened just now. From his still dizzy -mind, he sought to drag the outline of events expected.</p> - -<p>They had hoped to be taken out to the desert, possibly to a Syssokan -burial ground according to the local custom, and left to be dried by -the dessicating blaze of the sun. It had been planned that a spaceship -would land in the late afternoon to pick them up. Undoubtedly, it would -take the Syssokans several hours to report the "deaths" and to secure -official permission for disposal of the bodies, even though they were -less given to red tape than Terrans. Still, they should have abandoned -the "bodies" long before Taranto had expected to awake.</p> - -<p>He risked opening one eye a slit. Syssokan legs crowding around blocked -his view, but he could tell that it was dusk. The heat he felt must be -that of sand and rocks that had baked all day.</p> - -<p>It must have taken the Syssokans a long time to get this far. He -wondered whether they had brought him an unusual distance into the -desert, perhaps to avoid contaminating their own burial grounds, or -whether they had simply indulged in some long-winded debate as to the -proper course to pursue in regard to deceased aliens.</p> - -<p><i>My God!</i> he thought. <i>What if they'd decided to dissect us? I never -thought of that! I wonder if the joker that sent those pills did?</i></p> - -<p>Whatever had gone wrong, he was well behind schedule. He could imagine -the chagrin of the D.I.R. man watching the proceedings through his -little flying spy-eye. Taranto hoped that the spacers hired for the -pick-up were still standing by—at the worst, they would have water. -Cautiously, he tried to move his tongue inside his mouth. It stuck -against his teeth. He suspected that the taste would be terrible, if he -could taste at all.</p> - -<p><i>The heat!</i> he thought. <i>I've been soaking up heat all day and not -sweating. Now it's jetting out of every pore.</i></p> - -<p>Whatever the drug had done or failed to do, it must have nearly -suspended most of the normal functions of the body. No wonder he was -perspiring so heavily as he began to recover! Even so, he felt as if -he had a fever. He began to hope that he had not been carried for -very long. Unless he had been lying in the cell—or, better, in some -examination room at ground level—for most of the elapsed time while -disputes held up disposal of his body, some instinct told him, he was -very likely to die.</p> - -<p>Someone rubbed a hand roughly over his face, slipping through the film -of sweat. At this demonstration, renewed exclamations broke out above -him. One of the Syssokans shouted some gabble, as if to another some -way off.</p> - -<p>A moment later, Taranto heard a hoarse yelp that could have come only -from a Terran throat. Then words began to form, and he realized that it -must be Meyers.</p> - -<p><i>That blew the pipes!</i> he thought, and opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>A Syssokan looking down at him hissed in astonishment. Others, who had -been watching another group about twenty feet away, turned to stare -down at Taranto. He was hauled to his feet by the first pair that -thought of it. One, a minor officer by his red uniform, sputtered a -question at the Terran, forgetting in his evident excitement that he -was speaking Syssokan. Taranto wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. He -was beginning to feel a trifle cooler as his perspiration evaporated in -the dry air, but his surroundings seemed feverishly unreal.</p> - -<p>He could not quite understand what Meyers was shouting now, but even in -the hoarse voice could be detected a note of pleading. Taranto thought -it must be something about water. The Syssokan before him gathered his -wits and repeated his question in Terran.</p> - -<p>"What doess thiss mean?" he demanded, glaring angrily at Taranto with -his huge, black eyes.</p> - -<p>The Terran tried to answer, but could not get the words out. He -gestured weakly at a waterskin secured to the harness of one of -the soldiers. After a brief moment of hesitation, the officer -waved permission. The soldier detached the container and handed it -suspiciously to Taranto. Fearing the effect of too much liquid in one -jolt, the latter forced himself to take only a few small swallows. He -wished he could afford to stick his whole head inside the skin and soak -up the water like a blotter.</p> - -<p>"You are dead!" declared the officer impatiently.</p> - -<p>The tiny greenish-gray scales of his facial skin actually seemed -ruffled. Taranto dizzily sought for some likely apology to excuse his -being alive. He decided that there might be a slim chance of getting -away with a whopper.</p> - -<p>"If it is officially declared, then of course I am dead!" he croaked. -"What d'ya expect. Look how weak I am!"</p> - -<p>The Syssokan swiveled their narrow, pointed skulls about at each other.</p> - -<p>"I'm in the last minutes," said Taranto sadly.</p> - -<p>"What lasst minutess?" asked the officer.</p> - -<p>"It's the way Terrans pass on," asserted the spacer. "Didn't you ever -see a Terran die?"</p> - -<p>The officer silently avoided admitting so much, running a hand -reflectively over his thick waist, but his hesitation provided an -opening.</p> - -<p>"That's the way it goes," said Taranto. "First a blackout ... we sleep, -that is. Then the last minutes, the sweat of death, and ... blooey!"</p> - -<p>He raised the waterskin and sneaked a long swallow, risking it because -he feared he might not be allowed another.</p> - -<p>He was right. The officer snatched away the skin and thrust it into the -long fingers of its indignant owner.</p> - -<p>"If you are sso dead," he demanded, not illogically, "why do you drink -up our water?"</p> - -<p>"Sorry," apologized Taranto. "Where are we?"</p> - -<p>"What difference iss it to you?"</p> - -<p>"I ... uh ... don't want to make hard feelings or bad luck by dying in -one of your burial grounds."</p> - -<p>"It will not happen," said the officer grimly. "We have been ssent in -another place to guard against that. Look back—you can see the city -over that way."</p> - -<p>Taranto turned. The outline of the city walls, with lights showing here -and there on the watch towers, loomed up about five miles away. A small -rise in the rolling ground of the desert hid the base of the walls -and the greater part of the rough trail they had evidently followed. -It would have been a fine spot for a spaceship to drop briefly to the -surface.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish to lie down here?" asked the officer politely. "We will -wait until it iss over."</p> - -<p>Don't be so damn' helpful! thought Taranto.</p> - -<p>He looked desperately about, striving to give the impression of seeking -a comfortable spot. He felt the situation turning more and more sour -by the minute. It would be very difficult to feign death successfully -again now that the Syssokan suspicions were so aroused. They might well -make sure of him in their own way.</p> - -<p>Near him stood half a dozen brown-clad soldiers. Four of them, spears -slung on their shoulders by braided straps, had apparently been -carrying him while two others acted as relief bearers. Besides the -officer, there was a sub-officer, also in brown but wearing a red -harness. In the background, a similar group clustered about Meyers.</p> - -<p>Taranto saw that he had been tumbled from a sort of flat stretcher -of wickerwork. It was of careless craftsmanship, as if meant to be -abandoned with the body it served on the last journey. He wondered if -it could be assumed to be his property.</p> - -<p>"Don't put yourselves out," he said. "I can't hardly take a step even -to sit down. It'll be just a coupla minutes now. Good-bye!"</p> - -<p>The Syssokan officer made no move to depart. Taranto had not really -dared to hope that he would. He was trying to think of some further -excuse when Meyers saved him the trouble.</p> - -<p>"<i>Help!</i> Taranto!" shrieked the other spacer, bursting suddenly from -the group about him. "I told them we're alive, and they want to kill -us!"</p> - -<p>He ran staggeringly toward Taranto, kicking up spurts of sand. His -shirt front was dark with sweat and dribbled water. He looked wild with -fright.</p> - -<p>"Ah, they do live!" exclaimed the officer. "Seize them!"</p> - -<p>He seemed to realize only after about ten seconds that he had, this -time, spoken in Terran. Evidently feeling that not all his men might -have learned that particular language, he began to repeat the order in -Syssokan. Taranto interfered by swinging his fist at the center of the -greenish-gray features. The Syssokan, arms flung wide, sailed backward -and landed on the nape of his neck in a patch of gravel. Meyers -screamed hoarsely as his own bearers caught up to him and dragged him -down.</p> - -<p>Taranto sprang forward to snatch up the wicker stretcher from the -ground. A long-fingered hand clutched at his shoulder, but let go when -he kicked backward without looking around. He raised the stretcher and -swung it around in a wide arc at the three Syssokans reaching for him.</p> - -<p>Two, having left their heads unprotected, went down; but the stretcher -frame crumpled. Taranto tripped the other Syssokan, glancing hopefully -at the sky. There was no sign of the fire-trail of a descending -spaceship in the deepening twilight. Then he had to duck as the other -three bearers were upon him.</p> - -<p>"Get up, Meyers!" he yelled.</p> - -<p>He met the rush with a hard left that dumped the leading Syssokan on -his back. The next hesitated, and was brushed aside by the sixth, who -had had the wits to unsling his spear.</p> - -<p>Taranto sidestepped the crude but large point that thrust straight at -his belly. The shaft of the spear slid along his left ribs, and he -punched over the outstretched arms of the soldier at the Syssokan's -head. He clamped the spear between his elbow and body, retaining it as -his attacker staggered back.</p> - -<p>Two or three were now advancing from where a knot of figures seemed to -be sitting upon Meyers in the gloom. They did not especially hurry. -Taranto had begun to reverse the spear to jab at the Syssokan left -facing him when he heard a scrabbling behind him.</p> - -<p>He whirled away to his right, ducking instinctively as a body hurtled -past him. When he faced about, he found that most of those whom he had -knocked down were again on their feet and advancing. The officer, the -lower part of his face smeared with purplish blood, ran at Taranto full -tilt. He screamed an order in his own language.</p> - -<p>The spacer cracked the butt of the spear smartly against the Syssokan's -head, sending him down on his face. One of the others, however, managed -to get a grip on the weapon. Instinct told Taranto that any attempt at -a tug of war on his part would lead to a fatal entanglement. He dodged -away and sprinted toward the group pinning Meyers.</p> - -<p>A Syssokan voice yelled mushily behind him as he concentrated upon -driving with the greatest possible force into the writhing group before -him. He struck with a crunch that tumbled bodies in all directions. -Taranto himself felt sand scrape raspingly against the side of his face -as he half-rolled, half-skidded along the ground.</p> - -<p>His pursuers now caught up to the new location of hostilities. The -first thing Taranto saw as he managed to drag one knee under him was -the butt end of a spear plunging at his midsection. The Syssokan behind -it had his center of gravity well ahead of his churning feet, obviously -intent upon doing great bodily harm. The spacer wondered for a split -second why the native did not use his point.</p> - -<p>Then he twisted hips and torso to his right, drawing back his left -shoulder. As the spear passed him, he slapped down hard on the shaft -with his left hand. The butt dug into the sand, and the Syssokan hissed -in consternation as he vaulted head over heels before he could release -the weapon. The one immediately behind was caught in the center of his -harness by a flying foot, whereupon he collapsed with a groan across -the prone figure of his comrade. Two more, who had dropped their -spears, reached out toward Taranto, urged on by the officer on their -heels.</p> - -<p>Taranto saw Meyers stagger to his feet. Then the two Syssokans were all -over him. He skipped away to his left over a pair of limp legs, parried -a groping hand, and brought around the long, low left hook that had -made him respected in past years.</p> - -<p>In the ring, he had floored men with that punch. At the least, he -expected a fine, loud <i>whoosh</i> from the Syssokan, but the latter -disappointed him. He folded in limp silence.</p> - -<p>For a second or two, everything stopped. Taranto stared down at the -soldier, slumped on the ground like a loose sack of potatoes. Even the -Syssokans who were not at the moment engaged in pulling themselves to -their feet also gaped.</p> - -<p>Light dawned for the spacer. Those among whom he had gone head-hunting -kept getting to their feet as fast as he knocked them down.</p> - -<p>"Hit 'em in the gut!" he yelled to Meyers. "That's where their brains -are!"</p> - -<p>He charged at the nearest Syssokan, lips drawn back in an unconscious -snarl. The soldier made a reflexive motion to cross his arms before his -thick abdomen. Taranto, unopposed, hit him alongside the head with a -light right, then whipped the left hook in again as the arms began to -lift. The Syssokan went out like a light.</p> - -<p>"Come on!" Taranto shouted at Meyers when he saw that the other had not -moved. "Two of us could do it. Those heads are too little to hold a -brain. Kick 'em, if you can't do anything else!"</p> - -<p>"Are you crazy?" retorted Meyers, his voice hoarse as much with fear as -with thirst. "They'll kill us! Give up, and they'll only take us back!"</p> - -<p>Taranto sensed someone behind him. He started to run, but two or three -recovered Syssokans headed him off. He tried to cut back to his right. -He slipped in a patch of sand and saved himself from going flat only by -catching his weight on both outstretched hands. One of the Syssokans -landed across his back, feeling blindly for a hold.</p> - -<p>Taranto surged up, trying to butt with the back of his head. He was -promptly wrapped in the long arms of another soldier facing him, as -the grip from the rear slid down to his waist. The fellow behind him -seemed to think he could hurt him by kneading both knobby fists into -the spacer's belly, but there was too much hard muscle there.</p> - -<p>The Terran again butted, forward this time, and brought up his knee. -This was less effective than it should have been, but it helped him -free one arm so that he could drive an elbow backward.</p> - -<p>The officer ran up with a reversed spear. From the look in his big -black eyes, Taranto realized that the Syssokan had also learned -something during the melee. That explained, no doubt, why he was an -officer. He swung the spear in a neat arc—at Taranto's head!</p> - -<p>It cracked against the Terran's skull. Even though he did his best to -ride with it, he felt his knees buckle. He struck out with his right -fist, but the punch was smothered by the soldier whom he had kneed.</p> - -<p>The spear came down again. The world of Taranto's existence was reduced -to a narrow view of a straining, greenish-gray calf showing through a -torn leg of a Syssokan uniform. Vaguely, he realized that he was on his -hands and knees. A great number of hands seemed to be grabbing at him, -and his own were very heavy as he groped out for the leg.</p> - -<p>He got some sort of fumbling grip, and started to haul himself up. -The slowness of his motions alarmed him, in a foggy way. He tried to -tuck his chin behind his left shoulder because he knew that there was -something ... something ... coming....</p> - -<p>It came. The Syssokan officer's big foot took him behind the ear with a -brutal thump.</p> - -<p>Taranto, however, sinking into gray nothingness, did not really feel -it....</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="ELEVEN" id="ELEVEN">ELEVEN</a></h2> - - -<p>Smith stood at the corner of the corridor, leaning back every half -minute or so to peek around at the stretch leading toward the library -and communications room.</p> - -<p>Westervelt had propped himself with folded arms against the opposite -wall, facing the door to the stairs.</p> - -<p>Beryl hovered behind Parrish, who faced Smith impatiently between -darting glares at Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"All right, I guess I have to tell you, Pete," said Smith in a low -tone. "You might say we are temporarily inconvenienced."</p> - -<p>"By him?" asked Parrish, jerking a thumb in Westervelt's direction. -"That I could understand. The kid's beginning to think he's a comedian. -He started out just now playing Charley's Aunt."</p> - -<p>"Sssh!" said Smith softly.</p> - -<p>Westervelt turned his head toward the main entrance, wondering how far -Parrish's voice had carried.</p> - -<p>Smith's dapper assistant looked from one to the other. Seeking some -evidence of sanity, he turned with raised eyebrows to Beryl. The blonde -rounded her blue eyes at him and shrugged.</p> - -<p>"Pete, this is no joke," insisted Smith. "I wish it hadn't gotten -around so fast, but there it is."</p> - -<p>"There <i>what</i> is?" demanded Parrish, in a tone bordering on the -querulous.</p> - -<p>"Well ... there's been some kind of power failure throughout the -business district. There aren't any elevators running, and we don't -know how long it will be until the power company copes with the -trouble."</p> - -<p>"No elevators?" repeated Parrish.</p> - -<p>He stared at the sliding doors of the elevator shaft as if unable to -comprehend the lack of such service. The idea seemed to sink in.</p> - -<p>"<i>No elevators?</i> And ninety-nine stories <i>up</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Sssh!" said Smith, glancing down the corridor.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you, Castor?" asked Parrish. "Are you watching -for someone ... someone ... oh!"</p> - -<p>"See what I'm thinking?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>They faced each other for a moment in silence.</p> - -<p>"Well, it ought to be all right, as long as he can get down the stairs -if he wants to," said Parrish. "I'm sorry, Beryl. We'll have to make it -some other time."</p> - -<p>"But how are we going to get home?" asked the blonde.</p> - -<p>"Oh, they'll probably have it fixed by the time we're finished here," -said Parrish.</p> - -<p>"Then what's all the trouble about. Why is Willie looking so sour?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt braced himself against the impact of three glances and tried -not to sneer. The other two men cleared their throats and looked back -at Beryl.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to have to ask your co-operation, Beryl," said Smith. -"First, Pete, I'd like to point out to you a little gem of modern -design. This door here is powered to slide open automatically for a -fire or other emergency."</p> - -<p>"Of course," said Parrish curiously.</p> - -<p>"But there isn't any power," Smith pointed out.</p> - -<p>Parrish reached out impatiently and tried the door. He wrenched at it -two or three times, then bent to peer for the latch.</p> - -<p>"No use, Pete," said Smith, glancing down the hall again. "Willie -already went through that whole routine. I've been on the phone to the -building manager, and there isn't anything he can do except send a -party up from the seventy-fifth floor to burn open the door from the -stair side."</p> - -<p>"Is he doing it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, frankly ... I told him it wasn't necessary," said Smith, getting -a stubborn look on his long face.</p> - -<p>"But you know Bob!" expostulated Parrish. "If he gets the idea that -he's penned in here—"</p> - -<p>"I know, I know," said Smith. "On the other hand, we can always get -something from the lab and break out from this side, provided we take -care not to let him know what is going on until later."</p> - -<p>Westervelt eyed Beryl sardonically. He had seldom seen an expression -so blended of impatience and vague worry. He wondered if anyone would -explain to her.</p> - -<p>Parrish shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I think it might be better to call downstairs again, and have them -come up," he said.</p> - -<p>"I don't want to do that," said Smith.</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"It would get around. Pretty soon, the story would be all over the -D.I.R."</p> - -<p>Parrish actually leaned forward slightly to study his chief's face. He -found no words, but his very expression was plaintive. Smith sighed.</p> - -<p>"We're in the business of springing spacers from jails all over the -explored galaxy," he said. "We're supposed to be loaded to the jets -with high-potency brainwaves and have a gadget for every purpose! How -is it going to look if we're locked in our own office and can't get out -without help?"</p> - -<p>Parrish threw up his hands. Pivoting, he walked loosely a few feet -along the corridor and back, squeezing his chin in the palm of one -hand. He clasped his hands behind his back, then, and peered around -Smith at the empty wing of the corridor.</p> - -<p>"Maybe we could dope him," he suggested, without much feeling.</p> - -<p>"I should have thought of that," admitted Smith, "but he's finished -eating."</p> - -<p>"Can't we find something in the lab to shoot a dart?"</p> - -<p>As Smith tried to remember, Westervelt interrupted.</p> - -<p>"If you decide on that, I'm not volunteering, thank you. Did you ever -see Mr. Lydman move in a hurry? Whoever tries it had better not miss -with the first dart!"</p> - -<p>Smith said, "Harumph!" and Parrish looked uncomfortable. The assistant -glanced momentarily at Beryl, but shook his head immediately.</p> - -<p>Westervelt followed his thinking. For one thing, Lydman was known to be -devoted to his wife and two children; for another, who knew how badly -Beryl might miss?</p> - -<p>"Now, if everyone will just keep calm," said Smith, "and we can keep -Bob busy, we'll probably get along fine until they restore power. How -long can it take, after all? They can't waste any time with a large -part of a modern city like this cut off. It's unthinkable."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you're right," said Parrish.</p> - -<p>Smith turned to Beryl.</p> - -<p>"What I meant by asking your co-operation," he said, "is that we'll -need to have someone with Mr. Lydman most of the time. Willie has -been doing it until now, but we don't want it to look like deliberate -surveillance."</p> - -<p>"But why?" asked Beryl. "I mean ... I see that it worries all of you -that ... that he might find out. But what if he does?"</p> - -<p>"Possibly nothing," answered Smith. "On the other hand, Mr. Lydman was -once imprisoned, in his space traveling days. He was held for a long -time under very trying conditions; and the experience has left him with -a problem. It is not <i>exactly</i> claustrophobia...."</p> - -<p>He paused, as if to let Beryl recall other remarks about Lydman. Their -general air of gravity seemed to impress her.</p> - -<p>"I'll be ... glad to help," she said reluctantly.</p> - -<p>"Fine!" said Smith. "Probably nothing will be necessary. Now, I think -we had better go in and tell Si, so that everyone will be alerted to -the situation."</p> - -<p>Westervelt caught the glance that passed between Parrish and Beryl. He -was almost certain that each of them was mentally counting the people -who had known before <i>they</i> had been told.</p> - -<p><i>That's what you get for being so busy in the dead files</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>They trouped in behind Smith. Simonetta watched as if they had been a -parade. Smith, with an occasional comment from Parrish, told her the -story.</p> - -<p>"So that is the partial reason for staying late," he concluded, -"although, of course, the case of Harris comes first."</p> - -<p>Westervelt had wandered over to a window. He adjusted the filter dial -for maximum clarity and looked out.</p> - -<p>From where he was, he could see a great black carpet across part of the -city, spreading out from somewhere beneath his position until it was -cut by a sharp line of street lights many blocks away. Beyond that, the -city looked normal. To the near side of the invisible boundary and, -he supposed, for a like distance in the opposite direction behind his -viewpoint, there were only sparse and faint glows of emergency lights. -Some were doubtless powered by buildings with the equipment for the -purpose, others were the lights of police and emergency vehicles on the -ground or cruising low between the taller buildings.</p> - -<p><i>I wonder what they actually do when something like this happens?</i> he -thought. <i>What if they think they have it fixed, turn on the juice -again, and it blows a second time?</i></p> - -<p>His reverie was interrupted by the sound of Simonetta's phone. From -where he was, he could see Joe Rosenkrantz's features as the operator -asked for Smith.</p> - -<p>"Oh, there you are, Mr. Smith," said Joe. "Pauline has been trying all -over. Trident is transmitting, and I thought you would want to be here. -They say they have a relay set up right to Harris."</p> - -<p>Smith let out a whoop and made for the door.</p> - -<p>"He'll be right there," Simonetta told the grinning TV man.</p> - -<p>Parrish and Westervelt trailed along. When the latter looked back, he -saw that Simonetta had replaced Beryl; and he could hardly blame the -blonde for seizing the chance to sit down and collect her thoughts. He -felt like crawling into a hole somewhere himself.</p> - -<p>Passing the library, Parrish cocked an eyebrow at him. Westervelt -nodded. He went in and told Lydman about the call. The ex-spacer was -interested enough to join the procession.</p> - -<p>When Westervelt followed him into the communications room, Joe -Rosenkrantz was explaining the set-up to Smith.</p> - -<p>"Like before, we go through Pluto, Capella VII, and an automatic relay -on an outer planet of the Trident system, but you won't see anything of -that. It's after we get Johnson that the fun begins."</p> - -<p>He leaned back in his swivel chair before the screen and surveyed the -group.</p> - -<p>"Johnson is gonna <i>think</i> to a fish near his island. This fish thinks -to one swimming near Harris. They claim Harris answers."</p> - -<p>Smith ran both hands through his hair.</p> - -<p>"We try anything," he said. "Let's go!"</p> - -<p>Joe got in contact with Johnson, the Terran D.I.R. man, among other -things, on Trident. The latter was not quite successful in hiding an -I-told-you-so attitude.</p> - -<p>"Harris himself confirms that he is being held on the ocean floor," he -said. "He seems to be a sort of pet, or curiosity."</p> - -<p>"Can you make sense out of the messages?" asked Smith. "I mean, -is there any difficulty because of a language barrier? We don't -want to make some silly assumption and find out it was based on a -misunderstanding."</p> - -<p>After the weird pause caused by the mind-numbing distance, Johnson -replied.</p> - -<p>"There isn't any language barrier in a thought, but you might say -there's sometimes an attitude barrier. Usually, we can pick up an -equivalent meaning if we assume, for instance, that our time sense is -similar to that of these fish."</p> - -<p>"Well, try asking Harris how deep he is," suggested Smith.</p> - -<p>They watched Johnson look away, although the man did not seem to be -going through any marked effort of concentration. Hardly thirty seconds -of this had elapsed when they saw him scowl.</p> - -<p>"This fish off my beach can't get it through his massive intellect that -he can't think directly to another fish at your position. He thinks -you must be pretty queer not to have someone to do your thinking for -you."</p> - -<p>Smith turned a little red. Westervelt admired Joe Rosenkrantz's -pokerface. Johnson appeared to be insisting.</p> - -<p>"Harris says he is two minutes' swim under the surface," he reported.</p> - -<p>"Well, how far from your position, then?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>The distance turned out to be a day-and-a-half swim.</p> - -<p>"Does he need anything? Are they keeping him under livable conditions?"</p> - -<p>The pause, and Johnson relayed, "They pump him air and feed him. He -needs someone to get him out."</p> - -<p>"How can we find him?" asked Smith. "Can he work up any way of -signaling us?"</p> - -<p>"You are signaling him now, he says. He wants you to get him out."</p> - -<p>Smith looked around him for questions. Lydman suggested asking how -Harris was confined. Smith put it to Johnson, and after the maddening -pause, got an answer.</p> - -<p>"He says he's in a big glass box like a freight trailer. It's like a -cage. Inside, he is free to move around, and he wants to get out."</p> - -<p>"Then have him tell us where it is!" snapped Smith.</p> - -<p>"He doesn't know," came the reply. "They move about every so often."</p> - -<p>"What did I say?" whispered Parrish. "Nomadic."</p> - -<p>No one took the time to congratulate him because Smith was asking -what the Tridentians were like. Johnson's mental connection seemed -to develop static. They saw him shake his head as if to clear it. He -turned a puzzled expression to the screen.</p> - -<p>"I didn't get that very plainly," he admitted. "A sort of combination -of thoughts—they feed him and they don't taste good."</p> - -<p>"Well, tell your fishy friend to keep his own opinions out of it," -said Smith, surprising Westervelt, who had not quite caught up to the -situation.</p> - -<p>Johnson, a moment later, grimaced. His expression became apologetic.</p> - -<p>"Don't say things like that!" he told Smith, turning again to the -screen. "It slipped through my mind as I heard you, and he didn't like -it!"</p> - -<p>"Who? Harris?"</p> - -<p>"No, the fish at his end. I apologized for you."</p> - -<p>There was a general restless shifting of feet in the Terran office. -Smith seemed, in the dim lighting of the communications room, to flush -a deeper shade.</p> - -<p>"And what does Harris say?"</p> - -<p>Johnson inquired. Harris requested that they get him out.</p> - -<p>"Goddammit!" muttered Smith. "He must be punchy!"</p> - -<p>"It happens," Lydman reminded him softly.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Smith, after a startled look around, "but some were like -that to begin with, and his record suggests it all the way."</p> - -<p>He asked Johnson to get a description of the place where Harris found -himself. The answer was, in a fashion, conclusive.</p> - -<p>"Like any other part of the sea bottom," reported Johnson. "And, -furthermore, he's tired of thinking and wants to rest."</p> - -<p>"Who does?" demanded Smith.</p> - -<p>"They won't tell me," said Johnson, sadly.</p> - -<p>Smith choked off a curse, noticing Simonetta standing there. He -combed his hair furiously with both hands. No one suggested any other -questions, so he thanked Johnson and told Joe to break off.</p> - -<p>"At least, we know it's all real," he sighed. "He was actually taken, -and he's still alive."</p> - -<p>"You put a lot of faith in a couple of fish," said Lydman.</p> - -<p>Smith hesitated.</p> - -<p>"Well ... now ... they aren't really fish," he said. "Let's not build -up a mental misconception, just because we've been kidding about -'swishy the thinking fishy.' Actually, they probably wouldn't even -suggest fish to an ichthyologist, and they may be a pretty high form of -life."</p> - -<p>"They may be as high as this Harris," commented Parrish, and earned a -cold stare from Lydman.</p> - -<p>"I think I'll look around the lab," said the latter, as the others made -motions toward breaking up the gathering.</p> - -<p>Westervelt promptly headed for the door. He saw that Lydman was walking -around the corner of the wire mesh partition that enclosed the special -apparatus of the communications room, doubtless bent upon taking a -short-cut into the lab.</p> - -<p><i>I want to go sit down a while before they pin me on him again</i>, -thought the youth. <i>I need fifteen minutes, then I'll relieve whoever -has him, if Smitty wants me to.</i></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="TWELVE" id="TWELVE">TWELVE</a></h2> - - -<p>The light, impotent after penetrating fifty fathoms of Tridentian sea, -was murky and green-tinted; but Tom Harris had become more or less used -to that. It rankled, nevertheless, that the sea-people continued to -ignore his demands for a lamp.</p> - -<p>He knew that they used such devices. Through the clear walls of his -tank, he had seen night parties swimming out to hunt small varieties -of fish. The water craft they piloted on longer trips and up to the -surface were also equipped with lights powered by some sort of battery. -It infuriated Harris to be forced arbitrarily to exist isolated in the -dimness of the ocean bottom day or the complete blackness of night.</p> - -<p>He rose from the spot where he had been squatting on his heels. So -smooth was the glassy footing that he slipped and almost fell headlong. -He regained his balance and looked about.</p> - -<p>The tank was about ten by ten feet and twice as long, with metal angles -which he assumed to be aluminum securing all edges. These formed the -outer corners, so that he could see the gaskets inside them that made -the tank water-tight. The sea-people, he had to admit, were quite -capable of coping with their environment and understanding his.</p> - -<p>The end of the tank distant from Harris was opaque. He thought that -there were connections to a towing vehicle as well as to the plant -that pumped air for him. The big fish had not made that quite clear to -him. All other sides of the tank were quite clear. Whenever he walked -about, he could look through the floor and find groups of shells and -other remnants of deceased marine life in the white sand. Occasionally, -he considered the pressure that would implode upon him should anything -happen to rupture the walls, but he had become habitually successful in -forcing that idea to the back of his mind.</p> - -<p>Along each of the side walls were four little airlocks. The use of -these was at the moment being demonstrated by one of the sea-people to -what Harris was beginning to think of as a child.</p> - -<p>The parent was slightly smaller than Harris, who stood five-feet-five -and weighed a hundred and thirty pounds Terran. It also had four -limbs, but that was about the last point they had in common. The -Tridentian's limbs all joined his armored body near the head. Two of -them ended in powerful pincers; the others forked into several delicate -tentacles. The body was somewhat flexible despite the weight of rugged -shell segments, and tapered to a spread tail upon which the crustacean -balanced himself easily.</p> - -<p>Harris felt at a distinct disadvantage in the vision department: each -of the Tridentians had four eyes protruding from his chitinous head. -The adult had grown one pair of eye-stalks to a length of nearly a -foot. The second pair, like both of the youngster's, extended only a -few inches.</p> - -<p>The Terran could not be sure whether the undersea currency consisted -of metal or shell, but the Tridentian deposited some sort of coin in a -slot machine outside one of the little airlocks. It caused a grinding -noise. Directly afterward, a small lump of compressed fish, boned, was -ejected from an opening on the inside.</p> - -<p>"Goddam' blue lobsters!" swore Harris. "Think they're doing me a favor!"</p> - -<p>He let them wait a good five minutes before he decided that the prudent -course was to accept the offering. Sneering, he walked over and picked -up the food. There was usually little else provided. On days he had -been too angry or too disgusted to accept the favors of sightseers, his -keepers assumed that he was not hungry.</p> - -<p>In the beginning, he had also had a most difficult time getting through -to them his need for fresh water. That was when he had come to believe -in the large, fish-like swimmer who had transmitted his thoughts to the -sea-people. The fact that the latter could and did produce fresh water -for him aroused his grudging respect, even though the taste was nothing -to take lightly.</p> - -<p>He juggled the lump of fish in one hand, causing the little Tridentian -to twirl his eye-stalks in glee and swim up off the ocean bottom to -look down through the top of the tank. The parent also wiggled his -eye-stalks, more sedately. Harris suspected them of laughing, and -turned his back.</p> - -<p>Looking through the other side of his tank, he could see—to such -distance as the murky light permitted—the parked vehicles of the -Tridentians. Like a collection of small boats, they were of sundry -sizes and shapes, depending perhaps upon each owner's fancy, perhaps on -his skill. Harris did not know whether the Tridentians' craftsmanship -extended to the level of having professional builders. At any rate, -they were spread out like a small city. Among them were tent-like -arrangements of nets to keep out swimming vermin. Other than that, the -sea-people used no shelters.</p> - -<p><i>They were smart enough to build a cage for me!</i> he thought bitterly. -<i>What the hell is the matter with the Terran government, anyway? That -Department of Interstellar Relations, or whatever they call it. Why -can't they get me out of here? And where did Big Fish go now?</i></p> - -<p>He saw several of the crustacean people approaching from the camping -area. Shortly, no doubt, he would again be a center of mass attention, -with cubes of compressed and stinking fish shooting at him from all the -little airlocks. He snarled wordlessly.</p> - -<p>The groups seemed to come at certain periods which he had been unable -to define. He could only guess that they had choice times for hunting -besides other work that had to be done to maintain the campsite and -their jet-propelled craft.</p> - -<p><i>I'd like to get one of them in here and boil him!</i> thought Harris. -<i>Big Fish claims they don't taste good. I wonder. Anyway, it would -shake them up!</i></p> - -<p>He had long since given up thinking about what the sea-people could do -to him if they chose. Their flushing the tank eighteen inches deep with -sea water twice a day had soon given him an idea, especially as he had -nowhere to go during the process. He no longer permitted himself to -fall asleep anywhere near the inlet pipe.</p> - -<p>He noticed that the dozen or so sightseers were edging around the end -of the tank to join the first individual and his offspring. Looking -up, Harris saw the reason. A long, dark shadow was curving down in an -insolently deliberate dive. It was streamlined as a Terran shark and as -long as the tank in which Harris lived. The flat line of its leading -edge split into something very like a yawn, displaying astonishing -upper and lower carpets of conical teeth. This was possible because the -eyes, about eight Harris thought, were spaced in a ring about the head -end of the long body.</p> - -<p><i>They know I don't like to eat them, but I like to scare them a -little.</i> Big Fish thought to Harris. <i>Look at them trying to smile at -me!</i></p> - -<p>Harris watched the Tridentians wiggling and waving their eye-stalks as -the monster passed lazily over them and turned to come slowly back.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to scare them a lot," said Harris, who had learned some -time ago that he got through better just by forgetting telepathy and -verbalizing. "Is the D.I.R. man still there?"</p> - -<p><i>Which ... what you thought?</i> inquired Big Fish.</p> - -<p>"The other Terran, the one on the island."</p> - -<p><i>The other air-breathing one is gone, the other Big Fish is feeding, -as I have done just now, and it is not clear about the far Terran who -lacks a Big Fish.</i></p> - -<p>"All the bastards on both worlds are out to lunch," growled Harris, -"and here I sit!"</p> - -<p><i>You are in to lunch</i>, agreed the monster.</p> - -<p>The three eyes that bore upon the imprisoned man as the thinker swept -past the tank had an intelligent alertness. Harris had come to imagine -that he could detect expressions on Big Fish's limited features.</p> - -<p>"You're the only friend I've got!" he exclaimed, slipping suddenly into -self-pity. "I wish I could go with you."</p> - -<p><i>Once you could, when you had your own tank.</i></p> - -<p>"It was what we call a submarine," said Harris. "I was looking to see -what was on the ocean floor. Tell me, is it all like this?"</p> - -<p><i>Is it all like what? With blue lobsters?</i></p> - -<p>Harris still retained enough sanity to realize that the Tridentians did -not suggest Terran lobsters to this being who probably could not even -imagine them. That was an automatic translation of thought furnished -out of his own memory and name-calling.</p> - -<p>"No," he said. "I mean is it all sand and mud with a few chasms here -and there? Where do these crabs get their metals?"</p> - -<p><i>There are different kinds of holes and hills. It is all mostly the -same. You cannot swim in it anywhere, although there are little things -that dig under the soft sand. Some of them are good to eat but you have -to spit out a lot of sand. The crabs dig with machines sometimes, in -big holes, but what they catch I do not know.</i></p> - -<p>"Isn't there anything that catches <i>them</i>?" asked Harris bitterly.</p> - -<p><i>No. They are big enough to catch other things, except a few. Things -that are bigger than I am are not smart.</i></p> - -<p>The monster made a pass along the ocean bed near the Tridentians, -stirring up a cloud of sand and causing Harris's captor to shrink -against the side of his tank. The Terran laughed heartily. He clapped -the backs of his fists against his forehead above the eyes and wiggled -his forefingers at the Tridentians on the other side of the clear -barrier.</p> - -<p>Even after the sand had settled, he ran back and forth along the side -of his tank, making sure that every sightseer had opportunity to note -his gesture. He had an idea that they did not like it much.</p> - -<p><i>They do not like it at all</i>, thought Big Fish. <i>Some of them are -asking for the man who lets the sea into your tank.</i></p> - -<p>"Don't call it a man!" objected Harris, giving up his posturing. "I am -a man."</p> - -<p><i>What else can I call these men except men?</i> asked the other. <i>I do not -understand why you want to be called a man. You are different.</i></p> - -<p>"Forget it," said Harris. "It was just a figure of thought."</p> - -<p>He felt like sitting down again, but decided against it in case -the onlookers should succeed in obtaining the services of the tank -attendant. He walked to the end of the tank, where he could stare into -the greenish distance without looking at the Tridentian camp.</p> - -<p>"I wish I were dead," he muttered. "They'll never get me out of here."</p> - -<p>Behind him, he heard the plop-plop of food tidbits landing on the floor -of the tank as the onlookers sought to regain his attention. They must -have come out of their moment of pique if they were trying to coax him -to amuse them further.</p> - -<p>"If I could find a bone in those hunks of fish, I'd kill myself," said -Harris.</p> - -<p>The dark shape of Big Fish settled over the tank, cutting off what -little light there was like a cloud. Harris looked up resentfully.</p> - -<p><i>I do not understand you</i>, thought the monster. <i>That would be very -foolish.</i></p> - -<p>"What—trying to commit suicide with a fish bone?"</p> - -<p><i>No matter how, it would be extremely foolish, for then you would be -dead.</i></p> - -<p>Harris could not think of anything to say. He could not even think of -anything to think, obviously, since none of his chaotic, half-formed -thoughts brought a response.</p> - -<p><i>It would be as if you had been eaten</i>, insisted his friend.</p> - -<p>"All right, all right! I won't do it then, if that'll make you happy," -exclaimed Harris.</p> - -<p><i>It has no effect on how well I feed</i>, Big Fish informed him.</p> - -<p>It took Harris a minute, but he figured it out.</p> - -<p>"So that's your philosophy!" he muttered to himself. "Now I know what -it takes to make you happy. Something to eat!"</p> - -<p><i>Where?</i> inquired the monster. <i>I do not see anyone I want to eat.</i></p> - -<p>"Never mind!" said Harris. "Tell me more about the ocean bottom. Where -there are big holes or cliffs, can you see ... uh ... stripes in the -sides, layers of rock?"</p> - -<p><i>Sometimes. Where it is deep enough. Other places there are things -growing to the bottom. Only little fish that are not even good to eat -do their feeding there. Sometimes the sea-people take away the growing -things or dig holes.</i></p> - -<p>"I'll bet there are plenty of things to get out of this ocean," mused -Harris. "Who knows how the climate may have changed in thousands of -years. Maybe if there was an ice age the seas would have shrunk. Maybe -there was a volcanic age. Maybe you could drill underwater and find -oil—if you knew where to look. Maybe there are deposits of diamonds -under the ooze."</p> - -<p>He stopped when he sensed a vague irritation. He realized that his -thoughts had been going out and scoring the cleanest of misses.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter," he said. "Just tell me what you do know about the -sea."</p> - -<p><i>I can tell you where to find tribes of the sea-people. I can tell you -where to find all sorts of good eating-fish. I know where to think to -other Big Fish but that I cannot tell you, for you cannot feel it.</i></p> - -<p>The monster rose slowly through the water. He had seen something up -there that interested him, Harris knew, and would return when it -occurred to him.</p> - -<p>He considered the possibilities. Perhaps there was something in the -idea of building up a food industry. If you had inside tips on where -the fish were, how could you miss? Then, the Tridentians must have some -knowledge of where to find metals, since they used them. He suspected -that they had factories somewhere.</p> - -<p>"Come to think of it," he asked himself, "how do I know it isn't some -savage tribe that picked me up? One of these days, I may wind up with a -more advanced bunch. I'll have to ask Big Fish when he comes back."</p> - -<p>He began to plan what he would do if he reached some higher -civilization under the sea. Anyone with the knowledge to mine metals, -or maybe to extract them from sea water, would be interested in -contacting Terrans from another world. There would be a little trouble, -probably, in getting them to comprehend space, but some of them could -be sent up to the surface in tanks. Then there would be a need for some -Terran who knew both worlds.</p> - -<p>"I could wind up an ambassador!" Harris told himself. "I wonder ... -maybe I could even work it with this bunch. If I could only get out of -here! Come back in another submarine, maybe."</p> - -<p>He began to pace the length of his tank and back, stopping once to -gather up the fish that had been bought for him by some of the crowd -outside. He noted that the latter was constantly changing without -varying much in total number. He took to walking around the sides of -the tank, staring into each set of eyes.</p> - -<p>In the end, this had such a hypnotic effect that he imagined himself -swimming through the dim, greenish light. The sea-people outside began -to appear as individuals. He grew into the feeling that he could -recognize one from the other.</p> - -<p>He found himself running for the corner where he had collected his -fish. The sound that had triggered the reaction originated at the -opaque end of the tank. It was followed within seconds by several jets -of water, white and forceful, which entered near the floor of the -structure.</p> - -<p>Harris snatched up his supply of food to keep it from being washed -away. With one hand, he tried to roll up the legs of his pants. He -never seemed to be prepared when the time came, but he was constantly -too chilled to go around with the trousers rolled up all the time.</p> - -<p>The water swished about the calves of his legs. After a few minutes, it -began to recede as the Tridentian machinery pumped it out. Soon, the -tank was clean of everything but Harris, his fish, and the thick smell -of sea water.</p> - -<p><i>He was good</i>, came a thought. <i>I see you are eating too.</i></p> - -<p>A large shadow passed overhead. Most of the Tridentians wiggled their -eye-stalks in an effort to look amiable. Harris dropped his fish to the -damp floor.</p> - -<p>"No, I'm not eating," he said. "I'm all wet."</p> - -<p><i>So am I</i>, answered Big Fish.</p> - -<p>"But I'm not usually," said Harris.</p> - -<p><i>I know. It is unkind, they way they let you dry out. Would you like me -to knock in the end of the tank? You could have all the water you want.</i></p> - -<p>"Not right now," said Harris calmly. He sat down, crossing his legs. -"I'll have to grow some gills first. It may not take much longer, at -that."</p> - -<p>He looked at the Tridentians, who looked in at him. Again, he felt the -sensation of being able to recognize individuals. Perhaps he should -talk to them more often through Big Fish.</p> - -<p>"Maybe some of them are really nice fellows," he muttered, "if I just -get to know them better."</p> - -<p><i>No</i>, his friend told him, <i>they are not very good to eat.</i></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="THIRTEEN" id="THIRTEEN">THIRTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>Time had dragged its slow way past six-thirty. The excuse of a flying -start on the Harris case had worn thin to the point of delicacy—to all -but one man. The rest of them hoped sincerely that <i>he</i> was keeping -himself interested.</p> - -<p>Westervelt sat at his desk, perusing an article in <i>Spaceman's</i> World -about the exploration of a newly discovered planetary system. It might -come up in a conference someday, he reflected, and it might be as well -to know a few facts on the subject. No life had been discovered on -any of the dozen planets, but that did not necessarily preclude the -establishment of a Terran colony in the future. The department also had -problems with colonies, as witness Greenhaven.</p> - -<p>He put down the magazine for a moment to review the personnel situation.</p> - -<p>Parrish, he remembered, had expressed his intention of retreating to -his office and putting in an hour or two of desk-heeling. Under the -circumstances, he had declared, there was little point in digging -further into the files for an idea since that was not at all their -primary purpose in staying late. Rosenkrantz, of course, was on watch -in the communications room. Smith wandered in and out. Simonetta had -taken a portable taper down to Lydman's office to help organize a -preliminary report the chief had requested from him. After she had -returned, and fallen to low-voiced gossip through the window with -Pauline, Beryl had been sent back with a number of scribbled objections -for Lydman to answer.</p> - -<p>Smith had spent all of five minutes thinking them up—before Simonetta -brought the original report. Westervelt wondered how soon Beryl would -return with the answers, because it would then probably be his turn to -ride herd.</p> - -<p>He did not regard the idea with relish.</p> - -<p>Smith strolled out of his office. He halted to survey the nearly empty -office with an air of vague surprise, then saw Simonetta outside -Pauline's cubicle. He went over to join the conversation.</p> - -<p><i>I should have walked out somewhere</i>, thought Westervelt. <i>Now the door -is completely blockaded.</i></p> - -<p>The magazine article turned dull immediately.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, in a few minutes Smith approached Westervelt's corner.</p> - -<p>"Who's on watch, Willie?" he asked, attempting a jovial wink.</p> - -<p>"Beryl, I think," answered the youth. "Must be—she hasn't been around."</p> - -<p>"She's been there quite a while," commented Smith. "I have a feeling -that it's time for a shift. How about wandering down there and edging -in?"</p> - -<p>"What would I say?" objected Westervelt. "He's probably dictating his -remarks and wouldn't like me hanging around."</p> - -<p>Smith chewed on his lower lip.</p> - -<p>"For the questions I sent him," he muttered thoughtfully, "five minutes -should have been enough. Goldilocks has been with him over half an -hour."</p> - -<p>"But he must be tired of my face," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"I don't have anyone else to send, unless you want me to think up an -excuse for Pauline. Asking him to help with her homework would be -pretty thin."</p> - -<p>Westervelt thought it over. Parrish, in his present mood, was not -likely to be of any help. Simonetta had just done her stint, and Joe -was needed on the space set. It would have been nice if there were a -message for Lydman to listen to, but that was wishful dreaming.</p> - -<p>"All right, Mr. Smith," he surrendered. "Maybe I can take along this -article and ask if he's seen it yet. If he's taking an inventory or -trying out something in the lab, I'll take my life in my hands and -volunteer to help!"</p> - -<p>Smith laughed.</p> - -<p>"It can't be that bad, Willie," he said, slapping the other on the -shoulder.</p> - -<p>Westervelt was not so sure, but he folded the magazine open to the -beginning of his article and went out. Pauline peered at him as he -passed.</p> - -<p>"Don't look like that!" he said. "You'll see me again, I hope!"</p> - -<p>"You might try looking a little more confident of that yourself," -Simonetta called after him.</p> - -<p>Westervelt turned the corner and walked slowly down the hall, trying -out more confident expressions as he went. None of them felt exactly -right.</p> - -<p>Passing the spare office where the dead files were kept, he heard a -sound.</p> - -<p><i>They must have come up here for something</i>, he thought. <i>That's why it -seemed so long to Smitty.</i></p> - -<p>He had opened the door and taken one step inside before he realized -that the room was dark. Without thinking, he reached out to flip the -light switch.</p> - -<p>Beryl Austin leaped to her feet with a flash of thigh that hardly -registered on Westervelt in the split-second of his astonishment. Then -he saw that she had not been alone on the settee that stood beside the -door. Parrish rose beside her.</p> - -<p>The suddenness of their movements and the ferocity of their combined -stares had the impact of a stunning blow upon Westervelt. The -implications of the blonde's slightly disheveled appearance, however, -were obvious.</p> - -<p>He could not, for a moment, think at all. Then he began to have a -feeling that he ought to say something to cover his escape. Beneath -that, somewhere, surged the conviction that he had nothing to -apologize for. In the face of such hostility and tension, it called for -a lot of courage.</p> - -<p>"You little sneak!" spat Beryl.</p> - -<p>Westervelt noted with a certain detachment that her voice had turned -shrill. Not knowing of anything else to do, he stared as she tugged -her dress into place. This seemed to outrage her more than anything -he could have said. He also saw the gleam of Parrish's teeth, and the -grimace was not even remotely a smile. The man took a step to place -himself before Beryl.</p> - -<p>"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Parrish, with a good deal -more feeling than originality.</p> - -<p>Westervelt had been wondering what to say to that when it came, as was -inevitable. A dozen half-expressed answers flitted through his mind.</p> - -<p><i>How do you get out of a thing like this?</i> he asked himself -desperately. <i>You'd think it was me that did it!</i></p> - -<p>Before he could explore the implications of his choosing the words "did -it," Beryl found her voice again.</p> - -<p>"Get out of here!" she shrilled. "Who told you to come poking in?"</p> - -<p>"I heard a noise," said Westervelt, conscious that his voice sounded -odd. "I thought it was Mr. Lydman."</p> - -<p>"Do I look like Lydman?" demanded Parrish, not raising his voice as -much as Beryl had. "There wasn't any light, was there? Did you think -he'd be sitting in here in the dark?"</p> - -<p>The possibility charged the atmosphere like static electricity. -Actually, mere mention of it made Westervelt feel better because it -sounded so much like what he might have found.</p> - -<p>"How did I know?" he retorted. "I thought Beryl was with him. Why -should I expect <i>you</i>? You said you weren't going to dig any further in -here."</p> - -<p>Beryl had been smoothing her still-perfect coiffure. Now she stiffened -as much as Parrish. Westervelt sensed that his choice of words might -have been unfortunate.</p> - -<p>"Well, who is with him?" he demanded, before they could say anything.</p> - -<p>The question galvanized Parrish into action. He stepped forward to meet -Westervelt face to face.</p> - -<p>"If you're so worried about that, why don't you go find him?" he -sneered. "For my money, you two make a good match."</p> - -<p>"Maybe I will," said Westervelt hotly. "<i>You</i> two don't seem to care -about what's going on. If you'll just excuse me, I'll turn out the -light and—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, cut out the speech-making!" requested Beryl. "Get out of the -door, Willie, and let me out of here. I'm tired of the whole incident."</p> - -<p>"Now, wait a minute, Beryl!" protested Parrish.</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Westervelt, "you'd better check. Your lipstick is really -smudged this time."</p> - -<p>"Shut up, you!" Parrish snapped.</p> - -<p>He took Beryl by the shoulders and pulled her back. She pulled herself -free peevishly. Westervelt leaned against the wall and curled a lip.</p> - -<p>"Enough is enough!" she said. "Let me out of here!"</p> - -<p>"You forgot to smile," Westervelt told Parrish.</p> - -<p>The man turned on him and reached out to seize a handful of his -shirtfront. Westervelt straightened up, alarmed but willing to consider -changing the smooth mask of Parrish's face. Beryl was shrilling -something about not being damned fools, when she stopped in the middle -of a word.</p> - -<p>Parrish also grew still. The forearm Westervelt had crossed over the -hand grabbing at his shirt fell as Parrish let him go. The man was -staring over Westervelt's shoulder. He looked almost frightened.</p> - -<p>Westervelt looked around—and a thrill shot through him, like the shock -of diving into icy water.</p> - -<p>Lydman was standing there, staring through him.</p> - -<p>When he looked again, as he shrank instinctively away from the doorway, -he realized that the ex-spacer was staring through all of them. After a -moment, he seemed to focus on Beryl.</p> - -<p>"They'll let you out, I think," he said in his quiet voice.</p> - -<p>Parrish stepped back nervously, and Westervelt edged further inside -the doorway to make room. Beryl did not seem to have heard. She gaped, -hypnotized by the beautiful eyes set in the strong, tanned face.</p> - -<p>Lydman put the palm of one hand against Westervelt's chest and shoved -slowly. It was as well that the file cabinet behind the youth was -nearly empty, because it slid a foot along the floor as his back -flattened against it. Lydman reached out his other hand and took Beryl -gently by the elbow.</p> - -<p>She stepped forward, turning her head from side to side as if to seek -reassurance from either Parrish or Westervelt, but without completely -meeting their eyes. Lydman led her into the hall and released her elbow.</p> - -<p>She started uncertainly up the corridor toward the main office. Lydman -fell in a pace or two behind her.</p> - -<p>Westervelt heard a gasp. He looked at Parrish and realized that he had -been holding his breath too. Then, by mutual consent, they followed the -others out into the hall.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Willie," whispered Parrish, watching the twenty-foot gap -between them and Lydman's broad shoulders, "we have to see that she -doesn't forget and try to leave. If he won't let me talk to her, you'll -have to get her attention."</p> - -<p>"Okay, I'll try," murmured Westervelt. "Look—I was really looking for -him I never meant to—"</p> - -<p>"I never meant to either," said Parrish. "Forget it!"</p> - -<p>"It was none of my business. I should have shut up and left. Tell her -I'm sorry when you get a chance; she'll probably never speak to me -again."</p> - -<p>He wondered if he could get Smith's permission to move his desk. On -second thought, he wondered if he would come out of this with a desk to -move.</p> - -<p>"Sure she will," said Parrish. "She's really just a good-natured kid. -It wasn't anything serious. You startled us, that was all."</p> - -<p>Beryl and Lydman turned the corner, leaving the two followers free to -increase their pace. They rounded the corner themselves in time to see -Lydman going through the double doors.</p> - -<p>"It was too bad he came along when she was yelling to be let out," said -Parrish. "He didn't understand."</p> - -<p>"You mean he actually thought we were trying to keep her there against -her will?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Well, we were, I suppose, or at least I was. He doesn't seem to think -any further than that in such situations. If someone is being held -against his will, that's enough for Bob. Did you know Smitty had to -post a bond for him?"</p> - -<p>"A bond!" repeated Westervelt. "What for?"</p> - -<p>"They caught him a couple of times, trying out his new gadgets around -the city jail. I'll tell you about it sometime."</p> - -<p>Parrish fell silent as they reached the entrance to the main office. -Beryl had gratefully stopped to speak to the first person in sight, -which happened to be Pauline. As Parrish and Westervelt arrived, she -was offering to take over the switchboard for twenty minutes or so.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I didn't mean you had to drop everything," Pauline was protesting. -"I just meant ... when you get the chance...."</p> - -<p>She eyed Lydman curiously, then looked to the late arrivals. The -silly thought that Joe Rosenkrantz must feel awfully lonely crossed -Westervelt's mind, and he had to fight down a giggle.</p> - -<p>"You really should get out of there for a while," advised Lydman, -studying the size of Pauline's cubbyhole. "Sit outside a quarter of an -hour at least, and let your mind spread out."</p> - -<p>"Well, if it's really all right with you, Beryl?"</p> - -<p>"I'm only too glad to help," said Beryl rapidly.</p> - -<p>She wasted no time in rounding the corner to get at the door. -Westervelt closed his eyes. He found it easy to envision Pauline -tangling with her on the way out and causing Lydman to start all over -again.</p> - -<p>The girls managed without any such catastrophe. Pauline headed for the -swivel chair behind the unused secretarial desk.</p> - -<p>"You ought to leave that door open," Lydman called to Beryl. "If it -should stick, there's hardly any air in there. You'd feel awfully -cramped in no time."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Beryl politely.</p> - -<p>She left the door open, sat down, and picked up Pauline's headset. From -the set of her shoulders, it did not seem that much light conversation -would be forthcoming from that quarter.</p> - -<p>Westervelt stepped further into the office, and saw that Smith was -standing in his own doorway, rubbing his large nose thoughtfully. The -youth guessed that Simonetta had signalled him.</p> - -<p>Parrish cleared his throat with a little cough.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "I'll be in my office if anyone wants me."</p> - -<p>Rather than pass too close to Lydman, he retreated into the hall to use -the outside entrance to his office. The ex-spacer paid no attention.</p> - -<p>Westervelt decided that he would be damned if he would go through -Parrish's office and back into this one to get at his desk. He walked -around the projection of the switchboard cubicle and sat down with a -sigh at his own place. He leaned back and looked about, to discover -that Lydman had gone over to say a few words to Smith. Pauline glanced -curiously from Westervelt to the two men, then began to shop among a -shelf of magazines beside the desk of the vacationing secretary.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes, Lydman turned and went out the door. Westervelt -tried to listen for footsteps, but the resilient flooring prevented him -from guessing which way the ex-spacer had gone.</p> - -<p>He saw Smith approaching, and went to meet him.</p> - -<p>"I've changed my mind," said the chief. "For a little bit, anyway, -we'll leave him alone. He said he was sketching up some gizmo he wants -to have built, and needed peace and quiet."</p> - -<p>"Did he say we ... were talking too loud?" asked Westervelt, looking at -the doorway rather than meet Smith's eye.</p> - -<p>"No, that was all he said," answered Smith.</p> - -<p>There was a questioning undertone in his voice, but Westervelt chose -not to hear it. After a short wait, Smith asked Simonetta to bring her -taper into his office. He mentioned that he hoped to phone for some -technical information. Westervelt watched them leave, then sank down on -the corner of the desk at which Pauline was relaxing.</p> - -<p>Beryl turned around in her chair.</p> - -<p>"Pssst! Pauline!" she whispered. "Is he gone?"</p> - -<p>"They all left—except Willie," the girl told her.</p> - -<p>Beryl shut the door promptly. The pair left in the office heard her -turn the lock with a brisk snap.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with her?" murmured Pauline.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," said Westervelt glumly. "Why don't you take a nap, or -something?"</p> - -<p>"I'd like to," said Pauline. "It's going on seven o'clock and who knows -when we'll get out of here?"</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" said Westervelt. "I mean ... uh ... don't bring us bad luck -by talking about it. Take a nap and let me think!"</p> - -<p>"All you big thinkers!" jeered Pauline. "What I'd really like to do is -go down to the ladies' room and take a shower, but you always kid me -about Mr. Parrish maybe coming in with fresh towels for the machine."</p> - -<p>"I lied to you, Pauline," said Westervelt. "The charwoman brings them."</p> - -<p>"Well, I could always hope," giggled Pauline.</p> - -<p>"Not tonight," said Westervelt "Believe me, kid, you're safer than -you'll ever be!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="FOURTEEN" id="FOURTEEN">FOURTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>Pauline came back in a quarter of an hour, her youthfully translucent -skin glowing and her ash-blonde curls rearranged. She glanced through -the window at Beryl, who was nervously punching a number for an outside -call.</p> - -<p>"What's going on?" she asked Westervelt, who sat with his heels on the -center desk.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Smith is calling a couple of engineers he knows," Simonetta told -her.</p> - -<p>Westervelt had just heard it, when Simonetta had emerged with a tape to -transcribe. He had started to mention that it might be better to phone -a psychiatrist, but had bitten back the remark.</p> - -<p><i>For all I know</i>, he reflected, <i>they might take me away! Everything I -remember about today can't really have happened. If it did, I wish it -hadn't!</i></p> - -<p>He recalled that he had been phoned at home to hop a jet for London -that morning. He had found the laboratory which had made the model of -the light Smith was interested in, and been on his way back without -time for lunch. Now that the jets were so fast, meals were no longer -served on them, and he had had to grab a sandwich upon returning. Then -there had been those poor fried eggs. That was all—no wonder he was -feeling hungry again!</p> - -<p><i>I should have missed the return jet</i>, he thought bitterly. <i>I didn't -know where I was well off! Why did I have to walk in there? I might -have had the sense to go look in Bob's office first.</i></p> - -<p>He decided that Pauline, now chatting with Simonetta, looked refreshed -and relaxed. Perhaps he ought to do the same.</p> - -<p>The idea, upon reflection, continued to appear attractive. Westervelt -rose and walked out past the switchboard. Beryl was too busy to see -him. He made his way quietly to the rest room, which he found empty. He -was rather relieved to have avoided everyone.</p> - -<p>At one side of the room was a door leading to a shower. The -appointments of Department 99 were at least as complete as those of -any modern business office of the day. Westervelt stepped into a tiny -anteroom furnished with a skimpy stool, several hooks on the wall, and -a built-in towel supplier.</p> - -<p>Prudently, he set the temperature for a hot shower on the dial outside -the shower compartment, and punched the button that turned on the water.</p> - -<p><i>Just in case all the trouble has affected the hot water supply</i>, he -thought.</p> - -<p>As he undressed, he was reassured by the sight of steam inside the -stall. Another thought struck him. He locked the outer door. He did -not care for the possibility of having Lydman imagine that he was -trapped in here. It would be just his luck to be "assisted" out into -the corridor, naked and dripping, at the precise moment it was full of -staff members on their way to the laboratory.</p> - -<p>He slid back the partly opaqued plastic doors and stepped with a sigh -of pleasure under the hot stream. Ten minutes of it relaxed him to the -point of feeling almost at peace with the world once more.</p> - -<p>"I ought to finish with a minute or two of cold," he told himself, "but -to hell with it! I'll set the air on cool later."</p> - -<p>He pushed the waterproof button on the inside of the stall to turn -off the water, opened the narrow doors, and reached out to the towel -dispenser. The towel he got was fluffy and large, though made of paper. -He blotted himself off well before turning on the air jets in the stall -to complete the drying process.</p> - -<p>Having dressed and disposed of the towel through a slot in the wall, -he glanced about to see if he had forgotten anything. The shower -stall had automatically aired itself, sucking all moisture into the -air-conditioning system; and looked as untouched as it had at his -entrance.</p> - -<p>Westervelt strolled out into the rest room proper, thankful that the -lock on the anteroom door had not chosen that moment to stick. He -stretched and yawned comfortably. Then he caught sight of his tousled, -air-blown hair in a mirror. He fished in his pocket for coins and -bought another hard paper comb and a small vial of hair dressing from -dispensers mounted on the wall. He took his time spraying the vaguely -perfumed mist over his dark hair and combing it neatly.</p> - -<p>That task attended to, he stole a few seconds to study the reflection -of his face. It was rather more square about the jaw than Smith's, he -thought, but he had to admit that the nose was prominent enough to -challenge the chief's. No one had thought to equip the washroom with -adjustable mirrors, so he gave up twisting his neck in an effort to see -his profile.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's a lot better!" he said, with considerable satisfaction. -"Now if I can hook another coffee out of the locker, it will be like -starting a new day. Gosh, I hope it's a better one, too!"</p> - -<p>He walked lightly along the corridor to the main office, exaggerating -the slight resilience of the floor to a definite bounce in his step. -Outside the office, he met Beryl coming out. He felt himself come down -on his heels immediately.</p> - -<p>Beryl eyed him enigmatically, glanced over his shoulder to check that -he was alone, and swung away toward the opposite wing. Westervelt -hurried after her.</p> - -<p>"Look, Beryl!" he called. "I wanted to say ... that is ... about -before—"</p> - -<p>Beryl turned the corner and kept walking.</p> - -<p>"Wait just a second!" said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>He tried to get beside her to speak to something besides the back of -her blonde head, but she was a tall girl and had a long stride. He -hesitated to take her by the elbow.</p> - -<p>Beryl stopped at the door to the library.</p> - -<p>"Please take note, Willie," she said coldly, "that the light is on -inside and I am all alone."</p> - -<p><i>At least she spoke</i>, thought Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"I have come down here for a little peace and quiet," she informed him. -"I hope you didn't intend to learn how to read at this hour of the -night."</p> - -<p>"Aw, come on!" protested Westervelt. "It was an accident. Could I help -it?"</p> - -<p>"Being the way you are, I suppose not," admitted Beryl judiciously. -"Why don't you go elsewhere and be an accident again?"</p> - -<p>"I'm trying to say I'm sorry," said Westervelt, feeling a flush -spreading over his features. "I don't know why I have to apologize, -anyway. It wasn't <i>me</i> in there, filing away in the dark!"</p> - -<p>Beryl looked down her nose at him as if he were a Mizarian asking where -he could have his chlorine tank refilled.</p> - -<p>"Is that the story you're telling around?" she demanded icily.</p> - -<p>"I'm not telling—" Westervelt realized he was beginning to yell, and -lowered his voice. "I'm not telling any story around. Nobody knows -anything about it except you and I and Pete. Bob couldn't have seen -anything."</p> - -<p>Beryl shrugged, a small, disdainful gesture. Westervelt wondered why he -had allowed himself to get into an argument over the matter, since it -was obvious that he was making things worse with every word.</p> - -<p>"I don't know why you should be so sore about it," he said. "Even Pete -said to me I should forget about it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you two have been talking it over!" Beryl accused. "Pretty clubby! -Do you take over for him on other things too?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt threw up his hands.</p> - -<p>"You don't seem to mind anything about it except that I should know you -were in there with him," he retorted. "If he was so acceptable, why am -I a disease? Nobody ever left this office on account of me!"</p> - -<p>"It could happen yet," said Beryl.</p> - -<p>"Oh, hell! The trouble with you is you need a little loosening up."</p> - -<p>He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her toward him. Slipping his -left arm behind her back as she tried to kick his ankle, he kissed her. -The result was spoiled by Beryl's turning her face away at the crucial -instant. Westervelt drew back.</p> - -<p>The next thing he knew, lights exploded before his right eye. He had -not even seen her hand come up, or he would have ducked. He saw it as -he stepped back, however. Despite a certain feminine delicacy, the hand -clenched into a very capable little fist.</p> - -<p>Beryl took one quick stride into the library.</p> - -<p>"I don't like to keep hinting around," she said, "but maybe that will -play itself back in your little mind."</p> - -<p>She slammed the door three inches from his nose. Westervelt raised a -hand to open it, then changed his mind and felt gingerly of his eye. It -hurt, but with a sort of surrounding numbness.</p> - -<p>Realizing that he could see after all, he looked up and down the -corridor guiltily. It seemed very quiet.</p> - -<p><i>Right square in the peeper!</i> he thought ruefully. <i>She couldn't have -aimed that well: it must have been a lucky shot. I ought to go in there -and belt her!</i></p> - -<p>It was not something he really wanted to do. He could not foresee any -pleasure or satisfaction in carrying matters to the extent of open war.</p> - -<p><i>You lost again, Willie</i>, he argued. <i>You might as well take it like a -man. She got annoyed at something you said, like as not, and it was too -late when you began.</i></p> - -<p>He prodded gently at his eye again, and decided that the numb sensation -was being caused by the tightening of skin over a growing mouse.</p> - -<p>He set off up the corridor, passed the main door with his face averted, -and hurried down to the washroom before someone should come along.</p> - -<p>Spying out the land through a cautiously opened door, he discovered -the place unoccupied. In the mirror, the eye showed definite signs of -blossoming. The eyebrow was all right, but the orb itself was bloodshot -and tearing freely. Beneath it, the flesh above the cheekbone was pink -and puffy.</p> - -<p>"Ohmigod!" breathed Westervelt. "It'll be blue tomorrow! Probably -purple and green, in fact. Or does it take a day or two to reach that -stage?"</p> - -<p>He ran cold water into a basin and splashed it over his face, holding a -palmful at a time against the damaged eye.</p> - -<p>When this did not seem sufficiently effective, he wadded a soft paper -towel, soaked it in running water, and applied it until it lost its -chill.</p> - -<p>"Am I doing right?" he wondered. "I can never remember whether it's hot -or cold you're supposed to use."</p> - -<p>He thought about it while holding the slowly disintegrating towel to -his eye. Someone had told him, as nearly as he could recall, that -either way helped, depending upon when heat or cold was applied.</p> - -<p>"I guess it must be that you use cold before it has time to swell," -he muttered. "Keep the blood from going into the tissues—that must -be it. But if you're too late for that, then heat would keep it from -stiffening. Now, the question is, did I start in time?"</p> - -<p>He examined the eye. It did not feel too sore, but it was still red and -slightly swollen. The flow of tears had stopped, so he decided there -was little more he could do. He dried his face and walked out into the -corridor, blinking.</p> - -<p><i>The com room is pretty dim</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>He went to the laboratory door and opened it quietly. The room was dark -and unoccupied. Westervelt swore to himself that if he stumbled over -anyone this time, he would punch every nose he could reach without -further ado. Unless, he amended the intention, he ran into Lydman.</p> - -<p>He was squeamish about turning on a light, which left him the problem -of groping his way through the maze of tables, workbenches, and stacks -of cartons. He set down for future conversation the possibility of -claiming that the department was as normal as any other business; it -too possessed the typical, messy back room out of range of the front -office.</p> - -<p>He had negotiated about half the course when he felt a cool breeze. -At first, he thought it must come from an air-conditioning diffuser, -but it blew more horizontally. Someone must have opened a window, he -decided, or perhaps broken one trying out a dangerous instrument.</p> - -<p>He succeeded in reaching the far wall, where he felt around for the -door leading to the communications room. This was over near the outside -wall, but he reached it without bumping into more than two or three -scattered objects.</p> - -<p>Once through the door, he could see better because a little light was -diffused past the wire-mesh enclosure around the power equipment. He -walked along the short passage formed by this, turned a corner, and -came in sight of Joe Rosenkrantz sitting before his screen.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Joe," he greeted the operator.</p> - -<p>The other jumped perceptibly, looking around at the door.</p> - -<p>"It's Willie," said Westervelt. "I came around the other way."</p> - -<p>He was pleased to find that Rosenkrantz had the room as dimly lighted -as was customary among the TV men. Joe stared for a moment at him and -Westervelt feared that the other's vision was too well adjusted to the -light.</p> - -<p>"I didn't think anybody but Lydman used that way much," said -Rosenkrantz.</p> - -<p>"It's a short-cut," said Westervelt evasively.</p> - -<p>He found a spare chair to sit in and inquired as to what might be new.</p> - -<p>Rosenkrantz told him of putting through a few calls to planets near -Trident, asking D.I.R. men stationed on them to line up spaceships for -possible use, either to go after Harris or to ship necessary equipment -for plumbing the ocean. He offered to let Westervelt scan the tapes of -his traffic.</p> - -<p>"That's a good idea," said the youth gratefully. "Even if I don't spot -an opening, it will look like useful effort."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," agreed the other. "Time drags, doesn't it. Wonder how they're -making out down in the cable tunnels?"</p> - -<p>"It can't last much longer."</p> - -<p>"That's what this here Harris is saying too, I should think. Now, -<i>there's</i> one guy who is really packed away!"</p> - -<p>"Well...."</p> - -<p>"Oh, they've pulled some good ones around here, but I have a feeling -about this one," insisted the operator. "I'd bet ten to one they won't -spring Harris."</p> - -<p>Westervelt took the tapes to a playback screen and dragged his chair -over.</p> - -<p>"I told Smitty they ought to offer to swap for him," he said. "At the -time, I meant it looked like the perfect way to unload undesirables. -Come to think of it, though, I wouldn't mind going myself."</p> - -<p>"What the hell for?" asked Rosenkrantz.</p> - -<p>Westervelt realized that he had nearly given himself away.</p> - -<p>"Oh ... just for the chance to see the place," he said. "Nobody else -has ever seen these Tridentians. How else could somebody like me get a -position as an interstellar ambassador."</p> - -<p>"Maybe Harris wants the job for himself. He sure went looking for it!"</p> - -<p>The phone buzzed quietly. Rosenkrantz answered, then said, "It's for -you."</p> - -<p>Westervelt went to the screen. It was Smith.</p> - -<p>"I thought you must have found a way out, Willie. Where did you get to?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt explained that he was looking at the tapes of the Trident -calls, to familiarize himself with the background.</p> - -<p>"I figured there was plenty of time for me to—" He broke off as he -saw Rosenkrantz straighten up to focus in a call from space. "Joe is -receiving something right now. I'll let you know if it has anything to -do with Trident."</p> - -<p>"Department 99, Terra," the operator was saying when Westervelt turned -from the phone, as if the mere call signal had not satisfied the party -at the other end.</p> - -<p>There seemed to be a lot of action on the screen. Men were running -in various directions in what appeared to be a large hall with an -impressive stairway.</p> - -<p>"Yoleen!" Rosenkrantz flung over his shoulder. "Tell Smitty!"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Smith!" said Westervelt, turning back to the phone screen. "Joe -says it's Yoleen coming in. Maybe you'd like to see it yourself. -Something looks wrong."</p> - -<p>"Coming!" said Smith, and the phone went dark.</p> - -<p>Westervelt looked around to see that most of the running figures had -hidden themselves. A voice was coming over, and he listened with the -operator.</p> - -<p>"... knocked apart so I have to use one of the observation lenses they -have planted around the embassy. He's shooting up the place good!"</p> - -<p>"I'm taping until someone gets here," said Rosenkrantz. "Better tell me -what happened, just in case."</p> - -<p><i>Yoleen</i>, thought Westervelt. <i>That would be ... let me see ... Gerson, -the kidnap case. Do they mean that he's shooting them up?</i></p> - -<p>"... and after he left me with this mess, in the com room, he headed -for the stairs," said the voice of the unseen operator. "He seems to be -trying to get out of the embassy. We don't know why—the boys got him -there without any trouble."</p> - -<p>"Was he all right?" asked Rosenkrantz, cocking an ear at the door.</p> - -<p>"He looked pretty sick, as if he wasn't eating well, and he had a -broken wrist. They took him along to the doctor with no trouble. Then -the chief went up to see how he was and found Doc out cold on the -floor. He set up a yell, naturally. Someone finally caught up with -Gerson in the military attache's office."</p> - -<p>"What did he want there?" asked Rosenkrantz.</p> - -<p>"We don't know yet. He left a corpse for us that isn't answering -questions."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="FIFTEEN" id="FIFTEEN">FIFTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>In the building to which the two terrans had brought him, Gerson -crouched behind the ornate balustrade edging the mezzanine. He was near -the head of the stairway and hoped to get nearer.</p> - -<p>A look down the hall behind him showed no unwary heads in view. He -studied the sections of the hall below, which he could see through the -openings in the railing. There had been a great scrambling about down -there a moment earlier, so he was uneasy about showing himself.</p> - -<p>He had armed himself as chance provided: a rocket pistol of Yoleenite -manufacture—doubtless purchased as a souvenir—and a sharp knife from -a dinner tray he had come upon in one of the rooms he had searched. -Because of his injury, he had to grip the knife between his teeth. -Something bothered him about this arrangement. He had the papers thrust -in his shirt, he held the rocket pistol in one hand, one hand was -hurt—yet the only way left to hold the knife was in his teeth. It did -not seem exactly right, but he had had no time to ponder. The Terrans -were keeping him busy.</p> - -<p>Since he had been brought to this building, he had seen four threes of -Terrans. One, the medical worker, he had rendered helpless. Then he had -gone to search for secrets, and that other one had seen him. By that -time, he had found the rocket pistol. He had left that Terran dead, but -others had come running.</p> - -<p>Something had told him to shoot up the communications equipment, -although the Terran working it had escaped. He was somewhere behind -Gerson, behind one of the many doors leading off that high, bright -corridor.</p> - -<p>He believed that he had seen one other duck into a doorway ahead of -him, along the hall on the other side of the mezzanine. There was yet -another hiding behind the opposite balustrade. Gerson wondered idly if -the last one was armed.</p> - -<p>He tried to review the probable positions of those on the main floor. -One had definitely run out the front door, which faced the bottom -of the broad stairway, about thirty feet away. There was a shallow -anteroom there, but Gerson had seen him all the way across it.</p> - -<p>Of the others, one had ducked into a chamber at the front of the main -hall, to Gerson's left as he would be descending the stairs. Another -had run back under cover of the stairway on the same side, and the -remaining four were lurking somewhere to the right, either behind the -stairs or in adjoining chambers.</p> - -<p>He leaned closer to the balustrade in an effort to see more. In the -act, his injured limb came in contact with the barrier and made him -grimace in pain. The drug the Terran medical worker had shot into it -was wearing off.</p> - -<p>Since he had made a slight noise already, Gerson crawled along about -ten feet until he was just beside the head of the stairs. He made -himself quiet to listen.</p> - -<p>Somewhere below, two of the embassy staff were talking cautiously. It -might be a good time to catch them unawares. He rose and took a step -toward the stairs.</p> - -<p>A voice that sounded artificially loud spoke in one or another of the -lower chambers. It had a slight echo, making it nearly impossible for -Gerson to determine the direction. The Terran who had ducked into the -room on the left appeared, raising a weapon of some kind.</p> - -<p>Gerson blazed a rocket in his direction. The slim missile, the length -and thickness of the two top joints of his thumb, left a smoky trail -just above the stairway railing and blew a large hole in the wall -beside the doorway where the staff man had been standing. Somehow, the -fellow had leaped back in time to avoid the flying specks of metal and -plaster.</p> - -<p>Gerson knelt behind the balustrade again, shaken by the sense of new -pain, and wondering at its source. He concentrated. After a moment, he -felt the wetness trickling dawn his left side. Some small object had -grazed the flesh; and he realized that it must have been a solid pellet -projected by the weapon of the Terran at whom he had shot.</p> - -<p>He knew that the Terrans had more dangerous weapons than that, but -had been confident that they would dare nothing over-violent here -within their own building. The pistol used against him must be an -old-fashioned one or a keepsake. Possibly it was a mock weapon built -for practicing at a target. He seemed to remember vaguely having -handled such a thing in the past.</p> - -<p>He strained after the fleeting memory, clenching his teeth with the -effort, but it was gone. So many memories seemed to be gone. All he was -sure of was that he must get out of here with those papers.</p> - -<p>He checked the upper hall again, before and behind. He looked -across the open space for the Terran hiding like himself behind the -balustrade, but could not find him. It might or might not be worthwhile -to send a shot over there at random. If he missed, he might at least -scare the fellow.</p> - -<p>The loud voice with the mechanical sound to it blared out from below.</p> - -<p>"Gerson!" it called. "Gerson, throw down your weapon and stand up. We -can see where you are. We want to help you."</p> - -<p>Gerson showed no reaction. Analyzing the statement, he reminded himself -that one Terran had shot him. Not very seriously, it was true, but -it was not in the nature of help. Either the voice lied or it had no -control over the individual who had fired at him.</p> - -<p>He did not blame it for the presumable untruth, since he was not -deceived by it. It would be preferrable to kill the man who had shot -him, but he must bear in mind that his main task was to get out of the -building.</p> - -<p>"Gerson!" called the voice again. "We know you are injured. You are a -sick man. We beg you to drop your weapon and let us help you!"</p> - -<p>Gerson wondered what the voice meant by the expression "sick."</p> - -<p>It was possible that someone had seen him wounded by the last shot. Or -did they mean his sore limb. It occurred to him then that the blood -that had run out and dried on the right side of his face must be -clearly visible. The Terran he had killed back along the corridor had -flung a small ceramic dish at him, and Gerson had been slow in raising -his injured limb to block it. The whole side of his face was sore, but -the skin of his cheek no longer bled so it was a matter of opinion -whether he was sick on that account.</p> - -<p>The voice must mean the last wound, when it called him sick. That meant -that the Terran he had shot at was the voice or that there was another -Terran in the room with him. Gerson did not think that any of the -others could have seen. Some doubt at the back of his mind struggled to -suggest an oversight, but he knew of none.</p> - -<p>He peered once more between the balusters, and this time he saw a -motion, a mere shadow, across the way. Instantly, he stood up and -launched a rocket at the spot. It streaked on its way and exploded -immediately against one of the uprights. Gerson regretted fleetingly -that it had not gone through and struck against the wall beyond, -which would have accounted for the skulking Terran with a good deal -of certainty. As the baluster disintegrated, leaving stubs at top and -bottom, Gerson started down the stairs.</p> - -<p>Yells sounded from below. He threw one leg up to mount the stair -railing, leaned back along it, and let himself slide. The rocket -pistol, waving wildly at arm's length in his left hand, helped him to -balance. He reached the landing at the middle of the stairs in one -swoop.</p> - -<p>The human at whom he had shot reappeared in the same doorway. Gerson -rolled to his left, felt both feet hit upon the landing, and let go -another missile. It was too late; the Terran had not even lingered to -fire back. It seemed almost like a feint to distract.</p> - -<p>"<i>Gerson!</i>" blared the mechanical voice.</p> - -<p>"Gerson! Gerson!" shouted other voices.</p> - -<p>They came from many directions, and he was unable to comprehend them -all. He had reached a point near the bottom of the stairway, running -three steps at a time, when a louder yell directed his attention to -the doorway on his right. The figure of a Terran showed there.</p> - -<p>Without breaking his stride, he whipped his left hand across his body -and fired a rocket. He had a glimpse of the figure dodging aside before -the smoke and dust of the explosion told him he had nicked the edge of -the doorway.</p> - -<p>It seemed to him that he must have shot the Terran as well, and he let -his eye linger there an instant as he reached the floor of the hall. -Thus, he saw the figure reappear and was in position to fling two more -shots with animal quickness.</p> - -<p>The figure was blown straight backward this time, but Gerson had time -to realize that there had been no head on it when it had been thrust -out.</p> - -<p>His first shot must have done that. All told, he had wasted three -missiles on a dummy.</p> - -<p>Then the loop of rope fell about him, and he knew why he had been lured -into facing this direction. He tried to bring the rocket pistol to -bear on the three Terrans running at him from behind the stairway. The -fourth, at the end of the rope, heaved Gerson off his feet.</p> - -<p>He crashed down upon his sore limb, letting out a groan at the impact. -One of the runners dove headlong at him, batting at the pistol as he -slid past on the polished floor. Gerson felt the weapon knocked out of -his grasp. It rattled and scraped along the floor out of reach, but he -kicked the one who had done it in the head.</p> - -<p>Two of the Terrans were trying to hold him down, now. He got the knife -from his mouth into his left hand, let a Terran see it, then bit him -viciously on the wrist. The Terran let go, and Gerson found it simple -to knee the remaining one in the groin. He rolled over to get a knee -under him, pushed himself up with the fist gripping the knife, and saw -Terrans running at him from all directions.</p> - -<p>One of them had a broad, white bandage on his head. Gerson recognized -him as the medical worker. The man carried a hypodermic syringe.</p> - -<p>Unreasoning terror swept through Gerson. He knew that he must, at all -costs, avoid that needle.</p> - -<p>He whirled around to slash at the men coming up behind him. The nearest -fell back warily.</p> - -<p>"Put it away, Gerson," he said. "We don't want to hurt you, man! Why, -you're half dead on your feet."</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" asked another, more softly. "We can see that -you're not normal. What did those bastards do to you?"</p> - -<p>Gerson looked from side to side, seeing them closing in but unable to -spot an opening for a charge.</p> - -<p>"Just listen to me a minute," said the medical worker. He made the -mistake of holding the hypodermic out of sight this time, too late. -"Gerson, talk to me! Say something! Whatever the trouble is, we'll help -you."</p> - -<p>It was the only opening.</p> - -<p>Gerson took a carefully hesitant step toward him, then another. He held -up his damaged limb.</p> - -<p>"Yes, your wrist is broken," said the Terran. "I was going to put a -cast on it for you, remember. Now, just relax, and we'll take care of—"</p> - -<p>He saw Gerson's eyes and leaped back.</p> - -<p>The knife swept up in a vicious arc that would have disemboweled him.</p> - -<p>Without wasting the motion, Gerson slashed down and left at another -as he plunged forward. The point grazed an up-flung arm, drawing a -startled curse from the victim.</p> - -<p>"Tackle him!" shouted one of the Terrans.</p> - -<p>"Careful! He's already hurt bad enough," cautioned another.</p> - -<p>Gerson tried to feint and throw his weight in the opposite direction, -but his legs would not obey him. He recovered from the slip only to -have one of the men push him from behind.</p> - -<p>Someone clamped a tight hold on his left forearm as he staggered. A -moment later they twisted the knife out of his grasp and bore him to -the floor. He kicked ineffectively and then caught one of them by -surprise with a butt.</p> - -<p>The man recoiled, blood spurting already from his nose. He brought his -fist around despite warning yells, and clipped Gerson on the temple.</p> - -<p>"Hold him, dammit!" shouted someone. "Get that rope over here. Do you -want to kill him? Just hold him still."</p> - -<p>"You try it," invited one of those holding Gerson pinned.</p> - -<p>"I think he's weakening," said another. "Watch out—he may be playing -possum."</p> - -<p>The talk seemed to come from far away. Gerson felt them tie his ankles -together. They hesitated about his hands; one was injured. One voice -suggested tieing his left wrist to the stairway railing, but it was -decided that they could watch him well enough as long as he could not -run. The weight lessened as those pinning him arose to look to their -own bruises. Gerson was vaguely surprised to discover that all of them -were off him. He still felt as if great weight were holding him pressed -against the floor. He found it difficult to catch his breath.</p> - -<p>They had taken the papers from his shirt, he noted. One of the Terrans -passed them to a man in a dark uniform, who began to leaf through them -worriedly.</p> - -<p>A Terran came in through the front door.</p> - -<p>"Have you got him?" the newcomer asked. "That helicopter is still -floating around up there. I've been watching it for half an hour with -the night glasses. They sure as hell are waiting for something."</p> - -<p>"And there isn't anyone else in this neighborhood they could be -interested in," said a deeper voice. "Well, MacLean, what did you let -him get his hands on from your secret file?"</p> - -<p>Gerson rolled over very quietly and started to drag himself along the -floor. He had actually moved a yard before they noticed him.</p> - -<p>They were gentle about turning him on his back again. The discussion -about the papers was dropped while the medical worker cut his shirt -away from the bleeding wound in his side. Hushed comments were made, -but Gerson paid no attention. He was concerned with the fact that one -of the Terrans had planted a foot between his legs, above the rope -around his ankles, so that he was quite securely anchored to the spot.</p> - -<p>"Looks like a broken rib besides," said the Terran examining him. "Do -you think we could get him upstairs?"</p> - -<p>"I'm no doctor," said the deeper voice, "but even I can see you'd never -make it in time."</p> - -<p>The voice came closer, though the vision in Gerson's eyes was blurring.</p> - -<p>"Tell me, boy, what happened? How did they make you do it? What do they -want?"</p> - -<p>"Gerson!" said the man in the dark uniform. "Did you know what you were -after when you took these papers?"</p> - -<p>He was a dark blur to Gerson, who felt as if the weight on his chest -had been increased. His lips were dry. He thought it would be nice to -have a little water, but could not find words to ask.</p> - -<p>The deep voice was flinging a question at the dark blur.</p> - -<p>"Why, no, sir," said the Terran with the papers. "Nothing important at -all. Just a few old shipping lists, a record of the planetary motions -in this system that anybody could obtain, and an article on shortcuts -to learning the Yoleenite language. I think I had the batch lying -around the top of my desk."</p> - -<p>"Why did he take them?" someone asked.</p> - -<p>"Damned if I know. You fellows had me scared to death. From what you -said, I thought he must have pinched the deadly top secret code and my -personal address book to boot!"</p> - -<p>"Simmons!" shouted the deeper voice. "Are you getting this? Are you -making a tape for Terra? Oh ... right out, eh? Scrambled, I hope—it's -not the kind of thing to publicize to the galaxy."</p> - -<p>The mechanical voice boomed in the background. Gerson paid it no -attention.</p> - -<p>He felt the doctor's hands touching the old injections and heard the -man swearing. Whoever was holding his left arm was actually squeezing -and stroking his hand. The taste of failure was in his mouth.</p> - -<p>"That's what they must have started with," said the doctor. "In the -end, they put an awful mental twist into him, poor guy."</p> - -<p>"I told you they were up to something," said the dark blur. "Those -little bastards had big ideas, but they won't catch us napping with any -more spies, conditioned or not! Now maybe they'll read my reports on -Terra."</p> - -<p>Gerson opened his mouth to breath better. He rolled his head from side -to side on the hard floor. Somewhere deep inside him, a little, silent -voice was crying, frightened. He had failed and there would be no other -chance.</p> - -<p>The little voice took leave of its fear to laugh. <i>They</i> had not let -him remember how to read.</p> - -<p>And so he died, a tall, battered Terran lying on a hard floor and -grinning faintly up at the men who had helped him die.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="SIXTEEN" id="SIXTEEN">SIXTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>In the communications room of department 99, Westervelt could actually -hear people around him breathing, so hushed was the gathering. Someone -was leaning on his shoulder, but he was reluctant to attract attention -by moving.</p> - -<p>Static sounds and the clicking and humming of various mechanisms about -the room suddenly became unnaturally noticable. Glancing this way and -that, he discovered that the entire staff had drifted in during the -transmission from Yoleen. There were at least two people behind him, to -judge by the breathing and the weight on his shoulder. So intense had -been the excitement that he did not remember anyone but Smith arriving.</p> - -<p>He saw better to the left than to the right, and became conscious of -his eye again. Westervelt had drawn up his chair behind and to the -left of the operator, and Smith had perched himself on the end of a -table behind Joe. Beside the chief stood Simonetta, with Beryl behind -her. Parrish was to Westervelt's left, so he concluded that Lydman -and Pauline must be behind him. The grip on his right shoulder felt -small to be Lydman's, but he could not see down at the necessary angle -because of the puffiness under his eye.</p> - -<p>The broad-shouldered, stocky man on the screen moved to the stairway -and looked up straight into their eyes.</p> - -<p>"Is this still going out to Terra, Simmons?" he asked.</p> - -<p>He had dark hair with a crinkly wave in it, which permitted him to -appear less disheveled than the men about him or standing over the -body of Gerson. He pulled out a large white handkerchief to wipe the -streaming perspiration from his face.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," answered the voice of the distant operator. "You're looking -right into the concealed pick-up. I'll switch the audio from Terra to -the loud speaker system, and you can talk to them."</p> - -<p>Westervelt glanced at the other men in the embassy on Yoleen. Several -of them obviously suffered from minor injuries. All of them wore -expressions of tragedy.</p> - -<p>One man in his shirtsleeves was standing with his shoulders against -the base of the stairway, head thrown well back, trying to staunch the -flow of blood from his nose. Another, with his back to the lens, knelt -beside the body of Gerson. A couple of others, looking helpless, were -lighting cigarettes.</p> - -<p>"I suppose you saw the end of it," the man on the stairs said.</p> - -<p>Smith cleared his throat and leaned over Joe Rosenkrantz's shoulder.</p> - -<p>"We saw," he answered. "I ... is there any doubt that he's dead?"</p> - -<p>The man on the stairs looked to the group around the body. The doctor -shook his bandaged head sadly.</p> - -<p>"As much from strain and exhaustion as anything else," he reported. -"The man belonged in a hospital, but some uncanny conditioning drove -him on. In the end, his heart gave out."</p> - -<p>The stocky man turned back to the lens.</p> - -<p>"You heard that. Except for one man who didn't know at the time what -was going on, we did the best we could. I'm Delaney, by the way, in -charge here."</p> - -<p>Smith identified himself, and agreed that Gerson had looked to be -unmanageable.</p> - -<p>"Do you think you can find out what they used?" he asked. "I gather -that you never got anything out of him since the time you picked him -up. Did that part of it go according to plan?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," said Delaney. "We even got back the little torch we sent -him, the way you plotted for us. It looked used, too; but now I'm -wondering if they let him cut his way out."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't doubt it," said Smith gloomily. "I'm afraid we didn't look -very bright on this one. We seem to have underestimated the Yoleenites -badly. There isn't too much information on them available here."</p> - -<p>"Nor here, to tell the truth," said Delaney. "Which reminds me—our -Captain MacLean has been after me for a long time to put more pressure -on the D.I.R. about that. Could you duplicate your tape and send them a -copy? It would save us another transmission, and you might like to add -your own comments."</p> - -<p>Smith promised to have it done. He also offered, to soothe Captain -MacLean, to send an extra copy to the Space Force.</p> - -<p>There seemed to be nothing more to say. The scene on the screen blanked -out, as the distant operator spoke to Rosenkrantz on audio only from -his own shot-up office. Then it was over.</p> - -<p>Westervelt, aware that the pressure on his shoulder was gone, looked -around. Lydman had his arm about a shaken Pauline. The ex-spacer's -expression was blank, but the hardness of his eyes made the youth -shiver. For a second, he thought he detected a slight resemblance -to the man who had come bounding down the stairs on Yoleen, leaving -criss-cross trails of rocket smoke in the air.</p> - -<p><i>That's crazy!</i> he thought the next instant, and he lost the -resemblance.</p> - -<p>He blinked, fingered his tender eye, and looked around at the others. -Everyone was subdued, staring at the blank and quiet receiver or at -the floor. Westervelt was surprised to see that Beryl was crying. She -raised a forefinger to scrub the tears from her cheek.</p> - -<p>Hesitantly, Westervelt took the neatly folded handkerchief from his -breast pocket and held it out.</p> - -<p>Beryl scrubbed the other cheek, looked at the handkerchief without -raising her eyes to his, and accepted it. She blotted her eyes, -examined the cloth, and whispered, "Sorry, Willie. I think I got -make-up on it."</p> - -<p>Smith stirred uncomfortably at the whisper. He stood up and spoke one -short word with a depth of emotion. Then he kicked the leg of the table -to relieve his feelings.</p> - -<p>Rosenkrantz swiveled around in his chair, waiting to see if any other -calls were to be made. Smith took a deep breath.</p> - -<p>"You'll make copies of the tape when you can, Joe?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," said the operator, sympathetically.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Lydman, at the rear of the group, "that's another one -lost. Tomorrow we'll open a permanent file on Yoleen, as Pete suggests."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I imagine they'll give us more business," agreed Parrish.</p> - -<p>Lydman growled.</p> - -<p>"I'll give <i>them</i> the business next time!" he threatened. "Well, that -kind of damps the pile for tonight. I don't know about the rest of you, -but I'm in no mood now to be clever."</p> - -<p>Smith straightened up abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Now ... now ... wait a minute!" he spluttered. "I mean, we all feel -pretty low, naturally. Still, this wasn't the main ... serious as this -was, we were trying to push on this other case, to get a start anyway."</p> - -<p><i>Here we go again,</i> thought Westervelt. <i>Shall I try to trip him up if -anything happens, or shall I just get out of the way?</i></p> - -<p>He recalled the man in the embassy on Yoleen, holding a stained -handkerchief to his bloody nose, and measured the size of his own with -the tip of a forefinger. On the other hand, if there should be a melee, -it would certainly cover a little item like a puffy eye. He wondered if -he would have the guts to poke out his head at the proper instant, and -was rather afraid that he would.</p> - -<p>Parrish was murmuring about sticking to the job in hand, trying to -support Smith without arousing the antagonism of an open argument. -Lydman seemed unconvinced.</p> - -<p>"Why don't we all have a round of coffee?" suggested Simonetta. "If we -can just sit down a few minutes and pull ourselves together—"</p> - -<p>Smith looked at her gratefully.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said. "That's the least we can do, Bob. This was a shock to -us all, but the girls felt it more. I don't believe any of them wants -to hit the street all shaken up like this. Right Si?"</p> - -<p>"I <i>would</i> like to sit down somewhere," said Simonetta.</p> - -<p>"Here!" exclaimed Westervelt, leaping up. He had forgotten that he had -been rooted to the chair since before the others had crept into the -room during the transmission from Yoleen.</p> - -<p>"Never mind, Willie," Simonetta said. "I didn't mean I was collapsing. -Come on, Beryl, let's see if there's any coffee or tea left."</p> - -<p>"Wait for me," said Pauline. "I've got to take this phone off the -outside line anyway."</p> - -<p>Smith stepped forward to plant one hand behind Lydman's shoulder blade.</p> - -<p>"I could use a martini, myself," he called after the girls. "How about -the rest of you? Pete? Willie?"</p> - -<p>Parrish seconded the motion, Westervelt said he would be right along, -and trailed them slowly to the door. He paused to look back, and he and -Joe exchanged brow-mopping gestures.</p> - -<p>The rest of them were trouping along the corridor without much talk. -He ambled along until the men, bringing up the rear, had turned the -corner. Then he ducked into the library.</p> - -<p>He fingered his eye again. Either it was a trifle less sore or he was -getting used to it. He still hesitated to face an office full of people -and good lighting.</p> - -<p>"There must be something around here to read," he muttered.</p> - -<p>He walked over to a stack of current magazines. Most of them were -technical in nature; but several dealt with world and galactic news. He -took a few to a seat at the long table and began to leaf through one.</p> - -<p>It must have been about fifteen minutes later that Simonetta showed up, -bearing a sealed cup of tea and one of coffee.</p> - -<p>"So that's where you are!" she said. "I was taking something to Joe, -and thought maybe I'd find you along the way."</p> - -<p>Westervelt deduced that she had phoned the operator.</p> - -<p>"You can have the coffee," she said, setting it beside his magazine. -"Joe said he'd rather have tea this time around."</p> - -<p>Westervelt looked up. Simonetta saw his eye and pursed her lips.</p> - -<p>"Well!"</p> - -<p>"How does it look?" asked Westervelt glumly.</p> - -<p>"Kind of pretty. If I remember the ones my brothers used to bring home, -it will be ravishingly beautiful by tomorrow!"</p> - -<p>"That's what I was afraid of," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>Simonetta laughed. She set the tea aside and pulled out a chair.</p> - -<p>"I don't think it's really that bad, Willie," she told him. "I was only -fooling."</p> - -<p>"It shows though, huh?"</p> - -<p>"Oh ... yes ... it shows."</p> - -<p>"That's what I like about you, Si," said Westervelt. "You don't ask -nasty, embarrassing questions like how it happened or which door closed -on me."</p> - -<p>Following which he told her nearly the whole story, leaving out only -the true origin of the quarrel. He suspected that Simonetta could put -two and two together, but he meant to tell nobody about the start of it.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Willie," she said with a grin at the conclusion, "if you had to -fall for a blonde, why couldn't you pick little Pauline?"</p> - -<p>"I guess you're right."</p> - -<p>"Now, don't take <i>that</i> so seriously too! Beryl's a good sort, on the -whole. In a day or two, this will all blow over. Come on with me to see -Joe, then we'll go back and say you got something in your eye."</p> - -<p>"But when?"</p> - -<p>"Oh ... during the message from Yoleen. You didn't want to bother -anybody at the time, so you foolishly kept rubbing until it got sore."</p> - -<p>"That's all right," said Westervelt, "but Beryl knows different."</p> - -<p>"If she opens her mouth, I shall personally punch <i>her</i> in the eye!" -declared Simonetta.</p> - -<p>She giggled at the idea, and he found himself grinning.</p> - -<p>They went along the corridor to deliver the tea to Rosenkrantz, and -then returned to the main office. An air of complete informality -prevailed, a reaction from the scene they had witnessed. There was -a good deal of wandering about with drinks, sitting on desks, and -inconsequential chatter.</p> - -<p>No one seemed to want to talk shop, and Westervelt guessed that Smith -was just as pleased to be able to kill some time. He himself quietly -slipped around the corner to his own desk, where he propped his heels -up and sipped his coffee.</p> - -<p>Westervelt listened as Parrish and Smith told a few jokes. The stories -tended to be more ironic than funny, and no one was expected to laugh -out loud.</p> - -<p>Pauline, from her switchboard, buzzed the phone on Simonetta's desk, -since most of those present had gravitated to that end of the office. -Smith looked around in the middle of an account of his struggles with -his radio-controlled lawn mower.</p> - -<p>"Want to take that, Willie?" he said, with a bare suggestion of a wink.</p> - -<p>Westervelt lifted a hand in assent. He climbed out of his chair and -went to the phone on Beryl's desk, where he would be as nearly private -as possible.</p> - -<p>"Who is it, Pauline?" he asked when she came on.</p> - -<p>"It's Joe. He wants to talk to Mr. Smith."</p> - -<p>"Give it here on number seven," said Westervelt. "The boss is talking."</p> - -<p>Pauline blanked out and was replaced by the communications man. -Rosenkrantz showed a flicker of surprise at the sight of Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Smitty's in a crowd," murmured the youth. "Something up?"</p> - -<p>"Not much, maybe," said the other. "A message came in by commercial -TV. I guess they didn't think it was too urgent, but I'll give you the -facts if you think Smitty would like to know."</p> - -<p>"Hold on," said Westervelt. "Let's see ... where does Beryl keep a pen?"</p> - -<p>He dug out a scratch pad and something to scribble with, and nodded.</p> - -<p>"One of our own agents," said Joe, "named Robertson, signed this. -You've seen his reports, I guess."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, sounds familiar."</p> - -<p>"It says, after reading between our standard code expressions, that two -spacers and a tourist were convicted of inciting revolution on Epsilon -Indi II. They gave the names, and all, which I taped."</p> - -<p>"That's practically in our back yard," said Westervelt. "Maybe he just -wants to alert us, but the D.I.R. ought to be working on that publicly. -Sure there wasn't any hint it was urgent?"</p> - -<p>"No, and like I said, it came by commercial relay."</p> - -<p>"Okay. The boss has enough on his mind at the moment. Let's figure on -having a tape for him to look at in the morning. I'll find a chance to -mention it to him, so he'll know about it. All right?"</p> - -<p>"All right with me," grinned Rosenkrantz. "If anything goes wrong, I'll -refer them to you. Be prepared to have your other eye spit in."</p> - -<p>He cut off, leaving Westervelt with his mouth open and his regained -aplomb shaky. The youth waited until he caught Smith's eye, and shook -his head to indicate the unimportance of the call. He wondered if he -ought to take time to phone downstairs for a report on the situation. -It did not strike him as worth the risk with all the people in the same -room.</p> - -<p>He saw Beryl strolling his way and rose from her chair.</p> - -<p>"That's all right, Willie," she said calmly, setting her packaged drink -on the desk. "I just wanted to give you back your handkerchief."</p> - -<p>She produced it from the purse lying on her desk and said, "Thanks -again. I'm sorry about the make-up marks."</p> - -<p>"Forget it," said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry about the eye too," said Beryl, raising her eyes for the -first time to examine the damage. "It ... doesn't look as bad as Si -said."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's a comfort, anyway. I got something in it and rubbed too -hard, you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, she told me," said Beryl. "To tell the truth, Willie, I didn't -know I could do it."</p> - -<p>"Aw, it was a lucky swing," muttered Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Yes ... I, well ... you might say I was a little upset."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry I started it all," said Westervelt. "How about letting me -buy you a lunch to make up."</p> - -<p>Beryl shrugged, looking serious.</p> - -<p>"I don't mind, if we make it Dutch. It was as much my fault. I hope -we're both around to go to lunch tomorrow. It gives me the creeps."</p> - -<p>"What does?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"The way Mr. Lydman looks. Something about his eyes...."</p> - -<p>Westervelt turned his head to stare across the room, wondering if the -worst had occurred.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="SEVENTEEN" id="SEVENTEEN">SEVENTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>John Willard set a brisk pace through the streets of First Haven, as -befitted a conscientious public servant. Maria Ringstad kept up with -him as best she could. When she lagged, the thin cord tightened around -her wrist, and he grumbled over his shoulder at her. Naturally, she -carried her bag.</p> - -<p>He had explained that they would have been most inconspicuous with her -walking properly a yard behind him. Anyone would then have taken them -for man and wife or man and servant—had it not been for her Terran -clothing.</p> - -<p>"To walk the street with you in that rig would attract entirely too -much attention," was his explanation. "The only thing we can do is use -the public symbol of restraint, so that everyone will know you are a -prisoner."</p> - -<p>"What good will that do? Won't they still stare."</p> - -<p>"It is considered improper, as well as imprudent. No law-abiding -citizen would wish to risk being suspected of a sympathetic curiosity -about a transgressor."</p> - -<p>"You make it sound dangerous," said Maria, holding out her hand -obediently.</p> - -<p><i>Anything to be inconspicuous</i>, she had thought.</p> - -<p>Now, turning a corner about three hundred yards from the jail, she had -to admit that the system seemed to be working. The Greenies whom they -met were nearly all interested in other things: a shop in the vicinity, -another Greenie across the street, a paving stone over which they had -just tripped, or the condition of the wall above Maria's head.</p> - -<p>Willard led her to the far side of a broader avenue after they had -negotiated the corner that put them permanently out of sight of the -jail. Maria tried to recall the scanty information he had whispered to -her against the outside wall of the prison.</p> - -<p>There had been time for him to tell her he was sent by the Department -of Interstellar Relations of Terra to get her out, since it had proved -impossible to alter the attitude of the Greenie legal authorities. -Maria was not quite sure whether he was really the prison officer he -said he was, in which case he must have been bribed on a scale to make -her own "crime" ridiculous, or whether he was an independent worker -friendly to the Terran space line, in which case the payment might more -charitably be regarded as a fee.</p> - -<p>She knew that he planned to deliver her to a spaceship due to leave -shortly. There had been no opportunity for her to ask the destination.</p> - -<p><i>To tell the truth</i>, she reflected, <i>I don't care where it is. Anything -would be a haven from Greenhaven!</i></p> - -<p>She began to amuse herself by planning the article she would write -when back on Terra. "How I escaped from Paradise" might do it. Or -"Prison-breaking in Paradise." Or perhaps "Greenhaven or Green Hell."</p> - -<p><i>Whatever I call it</i>, she promised herself, <i>I'll skin them alive. And -I'll find a way to send the judge and the warden copies of it, too!</i></p> - -<p>Maybe, she pondered, it might even be better to stretch it out to a -whole book and get someone to do a series of unflattering cartoons of -Greenie characters.</p> - -<p>The cord jerked at her wrist. She realized that she had fallen behind -again, and made an apologetic face at Willard when he looked back.</p> - -<p>"Don't do that!" he hissed. "They'll wonder why I tolerate disrespect."</p> - -<p>"Sorry!" said Maria, shrugging unrepentantly. "You take this pretty -seriously, don't you."</p> - -<p>"You'd better take it seriously yourself," he growled. "It's your neck -as much as mine!"</p> - -<p>He glared at a young Greenie who had glanced curiously from the -opposite side of the avenue. The abashed citizen hastily averted his -eyes. Willard gave the cord a significant twitch and strode on.</p> - -<p>They turned another corner, to the right this time, and went along a -narrow side street for about two hundred yards. Waiting for a moment -when he might meet as few people as possible, Willard crossed to the -other side. A little further on, he led the way into what could almost -be termed an alley.</p> - -<p>Willard stopped.</p> - -<p>"Now, we are going into this small food shop," he informed Maria. "You -would call it a cafe or restaurant on Terra. It will seem normal enough -for an officer to provide his charge with food for a journey, so that -will be reasonable."</p> - -<p>"Is the food any better than what I've been getting?" asked Maria.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter. We won't stop there, since it would be impolite to -inflict the sight of you upon honest citizens at their meal. I shall -request a private room, and the keeper will lead us to the rear."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Well if that's the way it is, then that's the way it is. So in -the eyes of an honest Greenie I'm something to spoil his appetite. What -can I do about that?"</p> - -<p>"What you can do is keep that big, flexible, active mouth of yours -<i>shut</i>!" declared Willard. "Otherwise, I shall simply drop the end of -the cord and take off. You can find your own way out."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," apologized Maria, a shade too meekly. "I promise I'll be -oh-so-good. Do you want me to kneel down and lick your boots? Or will -it be enough if I open a vein in the soup?"</p> - -<p>"It will be enough if I get out of this without committing murder," -mumbled Willard. "Now, the expression is fine; just wipe that grin off -your mind and well go in!"</p> - -<p>He pulled her along the few yards to the entrance of the food shop.</p> - -<p>He opened the door and entered. Maria followed at the respectful -distance.</p> - -<p>There were half a dozen Greenies eating plain, wholesome meals at -plain, sturdy tables and exchanging a plain, honest word now and then. -The sight of the cord on Maria's wrist counterbalanced the sight of her -lascivious Terran costume, and they kept their eyes on their food after -one startled glance.</p> - -<p>A Greenie woman stood at a counter at one side of the food shop, and -Willard made known his desire for a private dining room. A man cooking -something that might have been stew looked around from his labor at a -massive but primitive stove to the rear of the counter. Maria thought -that he took an unusual interest in her compared to what she had been -observing recently. It rather helped her morale, and she thought she -did not blame the man if the counterwoman were his wife.</p> - -<p>The latter now came from behind her little fortress and led the way to -a door at the rear of the shop. Willard followed, and Maria trailed -along, restraining an impulse to wink at the cook. She was conscious of -his analytical stare until the door had closed behind her.</p> - -<p>Willard seemed to have nothing to say to the Greenie woman, and Maria -relented to the point of heeding his request to be silent. All this -made for a solemn little procession.</p> - -<p>They walked along a short hall, and the Greenie woman opened another -door to a flight of stairs. What surprised Maria was that the stairs -led down. She shrugged—on Greenhaven, they had their own peculiar ways.</p> - -<p>She was more puzzled when, at the bottom of the steps, they seemed to -be in an ordinary cellar. The light was dim, and she did not succeed in -catching the look on Willard's face. She began to wonder if she might -wind up buried under a basement floor while he spent his ill-gotten -bribe.</p> - -<p>Then the Greenie woman pulled aside a large crate and opened another -door. To pass through this one, they all had to stoop. Marie realized -that they were then in the cellar of another building. The blocks of -stone forming the walls looked damp and dirty.</p> - -<p>They proceeded to climb stairs again, and to traverse another hall. -Maria thought they ended up going in a direction away from the street. -The woman led them through a small, dark series of rooms, and finally -into one with windows set too high in the walls to see out. There she -halted and faced Willard.</p> - -<p>The Greenie prison official dropped the cord and reached into an inner -pocket of his drab uniform. He withdrew a thick packet of Greenhaven -currency. The numbers and units were too unfamiliar for Maria to guess -at the value from one quick glance; but the attitude of their hostess -suggested that it was substantial. Willard handed it over. Maria -decided it was time to set down her bag.</p> - -<p>The woman went immediately to a large chest in a corner of the room and -opened it. She set aside a mirror she took out of the chest, then began -to pull out other objects. There was a case which she handed to Willard -and a great many articles of clothing that were probably considered -feminine on this world.</p> - -<p>"The point is," Willard said in low tones, "you are going to have to -have proper clothes to look natural on the street. See if that dress -will fit you."</p> - -<p>Maria took the thing distastefully, but it looked to be about the right -length when she held it up against her. The Greenie woman nodded. She -added a sort of full-length flannel slip and a petticoat to the dress.</p> - -<p>"Now I know why the Greenie women look so grim," said Maria. "It would -be almost worth dying to stay out of such a rig."</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue!" said Willard.</p> - -<p>Maria made a face.</p> - -<p>"Present company excepted, of course!" she added.</p> - -<p>"Change!" ordered Willard. "We have no time to waste."</p> - -<p>He took the mirror and the small case to a rude table under one of -the windows. He opened the box so that Maria caught a glimpse of the -contents, which looked like an actor's make-up kit.</p> - -<p>The Greenie woman joggled Maria's elbow and spoke for the first time.</p> - -<p>"I must not be long, or it will be noticed," she hinted.</p> - -<p>"Give her your clothes to burn and get into the others," said Willard, -bending over the table with his back to her. "As soon as I get myself -fixed here, I'll change your face too."</p> - -<p>Maria looked about in a manner to suggest that she hoped they knew what -they were doing. The Greenie woman waited. Maria reached up and began -to unbutton her blouse.</p> - -<p>She dropped it across her bag. The woman picked both of them up, and -waited. She looked a trifle shocked at the sight of the thin slip when -Maria unzipped her skirt and hauled it over her head. By the time the -slip followed, she was standing with downcast eyes.</p> - -<p>Maria eyed the broad back in the drab uniform as she unfastened -her brassiere. This would make a good story someday, but to tell -it in the wrong company might be to invite catty remarks about her -attractiveness. She could think of other men who might not have kept -their backs so rigidly turned as did Willard. It was almost provocative.</p> - -<p>She slipped down the brief panties, stepped out of them, and handed -them over. The Greenie woman pointed silently to the shoes. Marie -kicked them off, and they were added to the pile. She hoped that -whatever was in the chest for footwear would not be too hard to walk in.</p> - -<p>The Greenie woman thrust the flannel atrocity at her and left the room -hastily. Maria watched the door close softly, then held the garment -out at arm's length. It did not look any better. She took a few steps -toward Willard.</p> - -<p><i>I'll bet I could make him faint dead away</i>, she thought -mischievously. <i>I'd love to see the look on his face if ... well, why -not? I will!</i></p> - -<p>"She's gone," she announced in a low voice. "How do I get into this -thing?"</p> - -<p>Willard looked around, and the look was nothing she had ever seen -before. His face appeared fuller in the cheeks, his eyebrows were black -and heavy, his nose high at the bridge, and his whole complexion was -darker.</p> - -<p>He nodded at her gasp.</p> - -<p>"Those papers I turned in for you won't last too long. The estimate is -that they will dissolve before tomorrow morning, but they just might -come apart sooner. If he sends out an alarm, I don't want to be on the -streets in shape to be recognized."</p> - -<p>"That's wonderful!" said Maria enthusiastically. "Are you going to make -me up too?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Willard. "Get into those things so I can start!"</p> - -<p>Maria watched his eyes flicker to her breasts and then sweep down the -rest of her body. She thought he was taking it very well, unless it was -the make-up.</p> - -<p>"Will you help me with this thing?" she begged. "I never saw one -before."</p> - -<p>She held out the flannel garment with a helpless smile, planting the -other hand on her bare hip.</p> - -<p>"<i>Will</i> you quit teasing, you little bitch!" Willard snapped. "I'm no -Greenie, if that's what you thought. You could get us involved to the -point of missing the ship."</p> - -<p>Maria felt her eyes popping. A tingling, hot flush lit her face. It -spread back to her neck and crept down to her breasts. She snatched the -flannel sack to her and turned her back.</p> - -<p>Somehow, she maneuvered it over her head. Then she fumbled on the -starched petticoat and topped the whole with the dun-colored dress that -fell chastely about her ankles. Willard handed her a pair of low heeled -shoes that were only a little loose when she put them on.</p> - -<p>He had her stand facing one of the windows while he darkened her face -and put a black wig on her. She looked up at the window and stood very -still.</p> - -<p>"Now, listen!" said Willard. "You'll absolutely have to stop blushing -like that, or the color of the skin is going to come all wrong!"</p> - -<p>"I can't help it," she said meekly. Then she saw he was laughing at -her, and gave him a rueful smile. "Where did all that modesty come -from? It was the shock, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"All right, it was funny. When we get out on the street again, forget -all about what's funny! Look like a serious Greenie!"</p> - -<p>"Funny?" objected Maria. "I always thought I made a pretty fair showing -in comparison to the local gals."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you did, you did! One of the best showings I've ever seen."</p> - -<p>He pressed a hand to each side of her waist, then slid them up her ribs -until the weight of her breasts rested against his wrists.</p> - -<p>"We'll talk about this again when we make it to the ship," he told her -in a low voice. "Right now, it would be foolish to spoil this make-up."</p> - -<p>He turned away after a long moment and returned the kit to the chest. -They left by the same door by which they had entered, but Willard knew -a short way out to a different street. Maria thought it must be the one -outside the high windows. He set off at a businesslike pace.</p> - -<p>They traveled about a quarter of a mile, counting several turns by -which he sacrificed directness for sparsely peopled streets. The -disguises must have been effective, for they drew no second glances. -It was not until she saw the gibbet that Maria realized they were -approaching the outskirts of the city.</p> - -<p>"What—?" she began, sensing the reality of her plight for the first -time.</p> - -<p>"Quiet! Look the other way, if you must, but don't be obvious about it."</p> - -<p>Several examples of rigid Greenhaven justice were on exhibit to a -modest crowd. Three men and two women sat in stocks. They were not, -apparently, subject to rock-throwing or other abuse, as Maria seemed to -remember had been the custom on ancient Terra; but they were clearly -unhappy and mortified. From the gibbet behind them swung the body of -a hanged man. It appeared to have been there for some time. Maria -wondered what <i>he</i> had done to corrupt the morals or the economics of -Greenhaven.</p> - -<p>What nearly made her sick was the sight of a party of two dozen -children being guided on a tour of the place. One youngster whined, and -was thoroughly cuffed by the Greenie in charge.</p> - -<p>Then they were past, and Maria saw the high cyclone fence of the Terran -spaceport. Willard took a look at her face. Seemingly satisfied, he -explained that they had come to a section well away from the main -entrance. He led her along the fence for perhaps a hundred yards, found -a small gate, and unlocked it with a key produced from under his belt. -Maria, remembering their exit from the jail, was not surprised to feel -a good-natured slap on the bottom as she stepped onto Terran land. -There was another quarter-mile to go, but it was open land.</p> - -<p>"We have it made now," said Willard, locking the gate behind them.</p> - -<p>They by-passed the administration and custom buildings, and headed -directly for the field elevator beside the waiting spaceship, ignoring -the possibility of causing inquiries to be made by local eagle-eyes who -might think they had seen two Greenies board the vessel.</p> - -<p>"Willard, of the Department of Interstellar Relations," he introduced -himself to a surprised ship's officer. "You've been told to expect Miss -Ringstad?"</p> - -<p>The officer, staring in bald disbelief at Maria's costume, admitted -that the ship was more or less being held for her arrival.</p> - -<p>"One thing was unexpected," said Willard. "I am exercising my authority -to demand a cabin for myself as well. I have reason to suspect that my -disguise had been penetrated, which, of course, makes it very dangerous -for me."</p> - -<p>"Of course," agreed the officer. "Let's go, by all means!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Maria. "I want to get out of this awful rig."</p> - -<p>"That's what I meant," said Willard.</p> - -<p>There was no doubt that the influence behind Willard had held the ship -for them. It rose as soon as they could reach a pair of tiny cabins. -Later, after the first surge of the take-off, there were a number of -delays stretching between minor course corrections.</p> - -<p>Finally, it was announced over the public address system that because -of precautionary checking of the course, there would be no spin to -simulate planetary gravity for about two hours. Maria hoped that she -would not be revealed as the cause to the disgruntled passengers.</p> - -<p>She was still considering this and trying to disentangle herself from -the acceleration net slung in the ten-foot cubicle they were pleased to -call a cabin, when Willard arrived.</p> - -<p>"I made friends with some of the crew," he announced. "Everybody likes -to help out a D.I.R. agent. It must strike them as romantic."</p> - -<p>"They should know," said Maria, thinking of the long, suspenseful walk -through Greenhaven's streets.</p> - -<p>"There was a stewardess who had extra slacks and blouse about your -size."</p> - -<p>"You must have a good eye," she told him. "Or think you have, anyhow. -First, get me out of this thing. What with this Greenie outfit too, I -might as well be in a straitjacket!"</p> - -<p>He pushed himself over to the net and began to open the zipper. She -saw that he had taken time to remove his "Greenie" face.</p> - -<p>Her first motion, when the net was open, sent her tumbling head over -heels to the far bulkhead.</p> - -<p>"Keep a grip on something," laughed Willard. "Here—I brought a small -kit along. Let me fix your face."</p> - -<p>She obediently clung to the anchoring shock springs at one end of the -net and turned her face up so that he could work on the mask he had -earlier painted on. His fingers were gentle, smoothing in the cream he -had brought and rubbing off the make-up with lightly perfumed tissues. -Maria closed her eyes luxuriously and thought how pleasant it was to be -off Greenhaven.</p> - -<p>"Was it very complicated, getting me out of there?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"There were a lot of angles to think of," he answered, "but we pulled -it off as slickly as I've ever seen done. Just strolled right out -through them all. Things in this business don't often go that well to -plan. There—now you look human again, just like when I started to put -that face on you."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly," smiled Maria, plucking ruefully at the native Mother -Hubbard, which billowed hideously about her in the zero gravity.</p> - -<p>"That's easily changed," Willard said, meeting her smile significantly. -"See if you can find your way out any better than you did getting into -it, while I sort out the clothes I got for us."</p> - -<p>Between the reaction from the strain of the past few hours and a glow -of gratitude toward her rescuer. Maria began to sense the stir of an -emotion within her that took a few moments to recognize. It surprised -her a little.</p> - -<p>"Willard," she said lazily, "it's funny, but I feel just as if I'm -falling in love with you."</p> - -<p>"That's interesting," grinned the agent. "About time, too."</p> - -<p>"I can't tell if my knees are weak," she went on, laying a hand on his -shoulder to draw herself closer, "because I'm hanging in mid-air; but -you always seem to be making me strip—and I find myself not minding."</p> - -<p>"I don't mind either!" he assured her.</p> - -<p>When his arm slipped around her waist and he kissed her, Maria was -sure. She let her lips part gradually, trembling as the fever rose in -her.</p> - -<p>"Let me go a minute," she murmured.</p> - -<p>Presently, after a few weightless contortions, the muffling Greenhaven -flannels were sent swirling into a corner. Maria laughed softly as -she set a bare foot against the bulkhead to launch herself back into -Willard's arms.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="EIGHTEEN" id="EIGHTEEN">EIGHTEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>Was it the pain in his head that made everything seem to sway?</p> - -<p>Or was it the swaying that made his head hurt?</p> - -<p>Taranto opened his eyes slowly. For two or three minutes, in the -darkness, he did not understand what he saw.</p> - -<p>Gradually, comprehension developed. He was on a litter again, and the -bearers were descending a rough track into a shallow valley. There was -no sign of the city or of any other landmark even vaguely familiar. -Jagged rocks formed a ridge to his left, curving around to enclose the -depression. Other rocky buttes, he saw through slitted eyes, projected -from the barren rubble of the Valley floor. There seemed to be little -sand, unless it had blown down into the lower areas.</p> - -<p>Cautiously, letting his head roll with the lurching motion of the -bearers, he learned that another group was ahead. He thought they must -be guarding Meyers. The red-uniformed officer marched just preceding -Taranto's litter. That meant that there must be two soldiers behind, -out of his view.</p> - -<p><i>What now?</i> he asked himself. <i>It was a good try, but it didn't work -out.</i></p> - -<p>It seemed hopeless to attempt anything further until he found out where -he was. Nor would it do any harm to learn <i>how</i> he was—they must have -crowned him beautifully. He tried to move his arms and legs slightly -without being obviously restless. Nothing felt broken. There was just -the sore throbbing behind his left ear.</p> - -<p>Were they taking him and Meyers further into the desert, to make sure -they could properly be reported dead? Or was the party on its way back -to the city?</p> - -<p>Taranto moved about stealthily, as the litter heaved from side to -side and bounced about with the efforts of his bearers to negotiate -outcroppings of rock. He was surprised that his arms and legs were not -tied. He wondered how long he had been out cold. Perhaps the Syssokans -believed he really was dead from that spear across the skull.</p> - -<p><i>You shouldn't have underestimated that guy just because you dropped -him a few times</i>, he told himself. <i>You caught on to the difference, -but he learned it from you.</i></p> - -<p>From ahead and lower on the path came voices. There was a brisk breeze, -but Taranto thought he could recognize Meyers giving vent to an -outraged whine.</p> - -<p><i>Wonder how much of a grudge they'll hold?</i> he thought. <i>Some of them -must be lumped up pretty good.</i></p> - -<p>He was beginning to locate a number of scrapes and bruises on his own -sturdy frame. He wondered if it might be best to take things easy until -they reached either their desert destination or the area outside the -city, according to which way they were headed, and then offer to bribe -the officer in charge. It would probably be too risky: he would have -to rely on large promises, and they had already caught him in a crude -whopper. Whatever the case, it would be unwise to open negotiations -without finding out what the Syssokan commander looked like. Taranto -seemed to recall pasting the fellow pretty thoroughly.</p> - -<p>He caught a few words of Terran, blown back to him by a random gust. -Meyers was complaining about being too tired to walk any farther. It -did not sound as though he were making his point.</p> - -<p><i>Of course!</i> Taranto realized. <i>I must be in his stretcher. Mine was -busted. Now the slob will put it on me for making him bump his rump -along this trail!</i></p> - -<p>The image was not without humor. Contemplating it gave Taranto a -momentary satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Well, they knew Meyers was alive, even if they might not be sure about -Taranto himself. Perhaps they were merely saving both Terrans for a -longer jail term. Taranto hoped that the Syssokans had nothing more -unpleasant in mind. The remarks he had used earlier in his attempt to -bluff the officer could be used for inimical purposes by anyone who -cared to point out that Syssokan knowledge of Terran physiology was -scanty. Then what?</p> - -<p>Taranto decided that he would be foolish to worry along that line at -the present. What he needed was an idea for getting loose again. He -speculated for a few minutes upon his chances of backtracking to the -scene of his attempt at escape. Somewhere near there, in whichever -direction it was, a spaceship should be landing.</p> - -<p><i>If they ain't been and gone already</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>In his supine position on the stretcher, he was able to see the sky -without moving. That was why the distant trail of light was visible to -him for some moments before any of the Syssokans could notice it.</p> - -<p><i>I can't wait it out after all</i>, he realized.</p> - -<p>The ship would be heard presently, and the flare of its braking rockets -would arouse the guards. Taranto peeked around again and saw that they -were nearing the foot of the slope. Following the natural motion of -the bearers, he let himself roll a little too far each time the litter -swayed. The Syssokans struggled to compensate while scrabbling for -safe footholds on the hard, slippery surface.</p> - -<p>In the end, one of them slipped. The litter crashed down. Taranto added -a twist to the natural force of gravity, so that he rolled downhill.</p> - -<p>The fallen bearer picked himself up, mumbling something in Syssokan -that sounded remarkably belligerent. One of the others moved to recover -the stretcher. Taranto kept on rolling.</p> - -<p>At the first yell, he gave up the pretense and regained his feet with a -lithe bound. For the next sixty seconds, he needed every last smidgin -of concentration to escape taking a fatal spill on the sloping rocks.</p> - -<p>Hurtling downward in great leaps, he was forced to hurdle large rocks -because his velocity prevented him from changing course by even a foot. -Once he skidded, thinking his time had come. Near the bottom, where the -incline curved to meet the horizontal, he did go down, ploughing up a -spatter of loose chips and pebbles.</p> - -<p>He was up and running again without quite knowing how. A dark shape -loomed up before him, a rock twice his height. Before passing it, he -took the chance of looking back.</p> - -<p>The litter party was in a state of confusion. The officer and two -soldiers were bounding after him, slanting away on a more reasonable -path. One Syssokan was still in the process of picking himself up, and -most of the others were either milling about or just beginning to heed -their leader's shouts to follow Taranto.</p> - -<p>The intention of yelling to Meyers flashed across his mind but he -dismissed it as being useless. A hasty glance in the opposite direction -showed him the fire trail settling behind another ridge to his right -front. The valley bore a certain resemblance to a meteor crater.</p> - -<p>Taranto sprinted past the huge rock and bore right toward the distant -ridge. He would try to locate the ship if and when he reached the -ridge. The immediate necessity was to keep out of the clutches of the -burial party.</p> - -<p>Running in the starlit darkness was risky, as he soon found. The ground -was strewn with occasional patches of loose stone, traps of nature -suitable for tripping the unwary or causing a sprain. The only thing -that kept Taranto reckless was the sounds of pursuit behind him.</p> - -<p>He had gone about two hundred yards when he realized that some of the -rock-scattering noises came from his right more than from behind. The -Syssokan were better runners than he, and used to the local terrain -besides. He could not tell whether they had seen the trail of the -spaceship or, if so, whether they connected it with him.</p> - -<p><i>But they know enough to head me off, whichever way I go</i>, he thought.</p> - -<p>He came unexpectedly to a patch of sand, and swore as he felt his speed -slacken. A desperate glance over his shoulder revealed no pursuers, -though he knew they were there somewhere. He could see two runners who -had flanked him on the right fifty yards off; and these forced him into -bearing away from his desired course.</p> - -<p>Instead of passing to the right of a tall outcropping of rock ahead, he -turned left. It took him farther from the direction of the spaceship, -but there was no help for it. He floundered over a low dune of sand and -then was out of it and running on flat ground. He circled to the left -of the hill, hearing a howl from the rear.</p> - -<p><i>Must have seen me against the open valley</i>, thought Taranto. <i>They -sound closer than I like.</i></p> - -<p>He ran on, scanning the shadowed rocks towering over him for a place to -climb. It was a foregone conclusion that the two flankers would be on -the lookout for him as he came around the hill.</p> - -<p>At last he thought he saw a way up, a sloping ledge leading to a -small plateau before the rock reared higher in a sheer cliff. Taranto -scrambled over a waist-high boulder and made for the opening. Up -he went, on hands and toes. The rock was ridged, but in the wrong -direction, and he slipped to hands and knees twice before he was up.</p> - -<p>He slowed to a quick walk as he reached the level expanse. It was ten -or twelve feet above the valley floor and curved off to the right -around the base of the cliff. Taranto was panting by now, but his main -reason for slowing was that he wanted to make less noise until he -spotted the two Syssokans he expected to meet.</p> - -<p>The broad ledge he was following dipped, rose a few feet, and dipped -again to less than ten feet above the level ground. Taranto flattened -himself suddenly.</p> - -<p>The two Syssokans came loping along the shadowy edge of the -outcropping, spears at the ready. From around the cliff sounded a call. -The first soldier threw back his head to answer. As the howl left -his throat, and masked the noise of the Terran's scrambling, Taranto -launched himself upon the back of the second.</p> - -<p>They went down with a thump upon hard rocks. Taranto, saving his ribs -from being caved in by fending himself off from a jagged rock with his -forearm, kicked out and caught the downed Syssokan in the belly. As the -soldier subsided, the Terran snatched up the spear and rose to face -the other one.</p> - -<p>It had all gone so fast that the leader was just turning back. Perhaps -he thought merely that his companion had fallen, but the stocky -silhouette of the spacer disabused him of that idea. He advanced with -the point of his spear weaving about menacingly.</p> - -<p>"You think you're good with that stick, eh?" growled Taranto. "Well, -try this for something different!"</p> - -<p>Gripping his spear near the head, he swung the heavier butt like a bat, -putting as much power into it as he could. It was crude, but he knew -better than to try to match skills with a soldier trained to the use of -the weapon.</p> - -<p>The butt cracked resoundingly against the shaft of the Syssokan's -spear, tearing it from the grip of his leading hand. Taranto's own -hands were numbed by the shock. He dropped his spear and slid inside -the Syssokan's one-handed grip before it could be reinforced. The feint -of a left hook to the belly made the soldier relinquish his weapon -completely and grapple with the spacer.</p> - -<p>Taranto found his left arm entwined with the right of the Syssokan. He -tried twice to punch to the body with his free hand but was smothered. -Before he could think of it himself, the Syssokan stamped hard upon his -toes.</p> - -<p>"Bastard!" spat the spacer.</p> - -<p>He butted, successfully but profitlessly. He rabbit-punched twice with -his right hand, reaching around under the soldier's armpit. Only when -he gouged at a large, black eye did the defending arm come up.</p> - -<p>Taranto set his feet and banged three times to the midsection, getting -plenty of body twist into his motion.</p> - -<p>He found himself holding a very limp Syssokan, who slid down as the -spacer stepped back.</p> - -<p>Taranto sucked in a gasping breath. He staggered aside to pick up the -spears, feeling better now that he was armed, no matter how primitively.</p> - -<p>He had hardly straightened up when he saw the officer round the edge -of the little butte, a mere fifty feet away. The Syssokan hesitated at -the sight of the Terran standing over two of his soldiers, and Taranto -threw one of the spears.</p> - -<p>The trouble was that he did not know how to handle one. A spear, after -all, was not standard equipment on a spaceship. The point twisted away -from the target, and much of the force went into a slow spin. The -officer hissed a disdainful comment and caught the weapon out of the -air with one hand.</p> - -<p>Taranto stooped for a rock, which he hurled with more effect. It -shattered with a fine crack against the cliff near enough to the -Syssokan to make him throw himself behind a boulder for cover. Taranto -left him in the middle of a yell to his soldiers and sprinted off into -the open valley.</p> - -<p>Carrying the spear did not help matters much, but he thought the -Syssokans might regard it as a more dangerous deterrent than he knew -it to be in his untrained hands. The next time he looked around, he -saw that he could rejoice in a splendid lead of two hundred yards. On -the other hand, the officer now had a numerous group with him, and -would probably get organized at last. Taranto slowed to a jog, to save -himself against the time when they should begin to catch up.</p> - -<p>"Taranto!" said a small voice.</p> - -<p>He broke automatically into a dead run, without even looking around.</p> - -<p>"Wait, Taranto!" called the little voice. "Look up, for the spy-eye!"</p> - -<p>The spacer slowed as understanding burst upon him. He looked back and -saw a spark of light gaining on him. It arrived and hovered over his -head.</p> - -<p>"It may still work," the voice informed him. "The ship is down. I -told them what happened, and they're putting up a helicopter. Where's -Meyers?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Taranto. "Back on the ridge, I guess. Look, I -can't just stand here until that 'copter comes. I'll be a pincushion."</p> - -<p>"Head for that hill ahead about a quarter-mile," said the voice from -the little flyer. "I'll guide them there."</p> - -<p>The Syssokans were running now, spreading out in a well-drilled manner. -Taranto boosted himself into high speed again.</p> - -<p>The hill ahead was more toward the center of the valley. If the -pursuers were aware of some connection between his flight and the -position of the spaceship, they would be satisfied to have him heading -away from the ridge enclosing the valley. Taranto hoped that they would -not worry enough to turn on a burst of speed, for he was convinced that -they could outrun him.</p> - -<p>He was right—he reached the steep slopes of the hill with a bare fifty -yards left of his lead, and he was on the point of foundering at that. -His knees buckled for an instant as he hit the first rise, and he saved -himself from pitching on his face only by thrusting out the butt of the -spear he carried.</p> - -<p>Somehow, he made it another fifty feet up the slope, hearing the voice -beside his ear say, "To the right, Taranto! Head for that flat spot! -Here comes the helicopter."</p> - -<p>He wiped salty sweat from his eyes with the back of one hand and -looked up. A large, quietly whirring shape shadowed the stars. It -dropped rapidly toward him as a howl broke out behind him.</p> - -<p>Taranto took the spear in both hands, holding it at one end, and sent -it whirling end over end at the closing Syssokans. The whole center of -the group dropped flat to let it swish over their heads.</p> - -<p>Before they could rise, the helicopter reached Taranto. It came down -so fast it bounced against the ground. Someone held out a hand to -Taranto and yelled to him to jump. He was hauled into an open cockpit. -Someone took a deathgrip on the waistband of his pants and he felt the -helicopter climb.</p> - -<p>He wiggled around until he could get his knees under him. There were -two spacers in the cockpit of what was obviously an auxiliary craft -from a spaceship. One of them, a very long-eared type with a narrow -head, looked as if he had been born in some stellar colony. The other -had a broad, bland face of an oriental Terran.</p> - -<p>"Where is the other one?" asked the latter.</p> - -<p>Taranto crept between the seats to which they were strapped before -answering, for there were only chains at the open sides. He got his -bearings, and directed the long-eared pilot to the ridge where he had -rolled out of the litter.</p> - -<p>It nearly broke his heart to see them reach it in less than a minute.</p> - -<p>"There may be guards with him," he warned. "Maybe he took off too."</p> - -<p>"We shall see," said the broad-faced spacer.</p> - -<p>He ran a spotlight along the ridge, stopped, and brought it back to -bear upon a lonely figure. Meyers stood up and waved. No Syssokan was -in sight; the officer must have taken them all with him.</p> - -<p><i>He knew what he was doing</i>, thought Taranto. <i>The guy's still here.</i></p> - -<p>The helicopter eased down to hover over a large rock. Meyers climbed -laboriously upon it and was hauled aboard. Taranto squeezed himself -back behind the seats to make room.</p> - -<p>"It's about time you got here," puffed Meyers. "I'm worn out."</p> - -<p>Taranto said nothing as the craft rose in the air and swooped off -toward the spaceship. Someday, Meyers would ask how he had gotten away -from the Syssokans. When it happened, Taranto swore to himself, he -would <i>show</i> the slob.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="NINETEEN" id="NINETEEN">NINETEEN</a></h2> - - -<p>It was twenty after eight when Westervelt found himself back at the -communications room with Smith. Rosenkrantz had alerted them to a -message coming in from Syssoka.</p> - -<p>"They didn't expect to hit us during office hours," he explained, "but -as long as you're here, I thought maybe you'd like to get it fresh."</p> - -<p>Smith had told the girls to pass the word to Lydman and Parrish, and -Westervelt had followed him down the hall with the feeling that he -had displayed his eye under the good lighting long enough. Now they -listened as a slim, brown-haired man with a faintly scholarly aura -completed his report on the escape of Louis Taranto and Harley Meyers, -spacers.</p> - -<p>Joe Rosenkrantz was fiddling with an auxiliary screen and murmuring -into another microphone.</p> - - -<p>"... so it was a rather close call, even though the formula you sent -us appears to have worked perfectly," said the scholarly man. "I have -not been able to determine exactly what caused the delay on the part of -the Syssokans, since it seemed imprudent to display my little flying -spy-eye where it might be seen, or even damaged."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you can pick up some rumors in the future," suggested Smith. "If -you do, we'd appreciate hearing them, to add to our file and make the -case as complete as possible."</p> - -<p>The transmission lag was much less than that occurring with Trident. -The D.I.R. man on Syssoka agreed to forward any subsequent discoveries.</p> - -<p>"Those spacers you contacted are already heading out-system," he told -Smith. "I think they did a nice, clean job. It was too bad that they -were seen at all, of course, but it will be news to me if the Syssokans -drop around with any embarrassing questions."</p> - -<p>"Well, there <i>is</i> a large foreign quarter there," Smith recalled. "Why -should they suspect Terrans, after all?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, they will, they will. They suspect everyone; but they must know so -little that I feel sure I can bluff them. I can prove that I was here -at the official residence all day."</p> - -<p>"Good!" said Smith. "Just in passing, I take it that no one was much -hurt?"</p> - -<p>The man on Syssokan grinned briefly.</p> - -<p>"No one on our side," he said, "although I understand the prisoners -were suffering some from exhaustion and dehydration. This Louis Taranto -seems to be quite a lad. There is reason to believe that he killed two -or three of his guards with his bare hands—at least I saw the burial -party carrying bodies with them as they marched the rest of the way -back to the city."</p> - -<p>Smith laughed.</p> - -<p>"I'll have to add a note opposite his name and contact him. I could use -a field agent like that! Well, my operator tells me I have another call -coming in. Thanks for your work on this."</p> - -<p>"A pleasure," said the man on Syssoka. "I really didn't expect to -contact you directly; my relative-time atlas must be a little old."</p> - -<p>"No, it's just that we never sleep, you know," quipped Smith, and -signed off.</p> - -<p>He looked around, saw that it was Parrish who had entered, and added, -"At least, it <i>looks</i> as if we'll never sleep. I'm getting tired of it -myself."</p> - -<p>"So is everybody except Joe, here," said Parrish. "A com man isn't -normal anyway."</p> - -<p>"You gotta learn not to let all this stuff coming through bother you," -said Rosenkrantz wisely. "If I soaked up all these crazy calls, I'd -have nightmares every day. As it is, I'm as normal as anybody when I -leave here."</p> - -<p>"You haven't been with us long enough," said Smith. "What else do you -have there?"</p> - -<p>"There was a routine memo to make a check with the planet Greenhaven," -said Rosenkrantz. "I cleared it when a good time came. The D.I.R. -station there pretended not to know what I was talking about."</p> - -<p>"What?" yelped Smith. "Don't tell me we goofed on another one!"</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," said Rosenkrantz. "While you were talking to -Syssoka, a spaceship named <i>Vulpecula</i> called, said there was reason to -believe the Greenhaven D.I.R. was locally monitored."</p> - -<p>"Tapped or the scrambler system broken," said Parrish. "What does this -ship want to talk about?"</p> - -<p>"The Ringstad case."</p> - -<p>"Joe, godammit, who says you're normal?" demanded Smith. "I bet we've -sprung another one! Two in one night—we're coming out with a good -average after all. Get them on the screen before I pop my tanks!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt listened to the transmission from the spaceship. Without the -help of a planetary relay at the far end, it tended to be a trifle weak -and wavery, but the essentials came through. He left Smith and Parrish -patting each other on the back and went back to tell the girls about it.</p> - -<p>They clustered around him in the main office, even Pauline leaving her -cubicle for a moment and keeping one ear pointed at the switchboard -inside.</p> - -<p>"You should have heard Smitty conning her out of writing us up for the -news magazines," said Westervelt. "She seems to be pretty famous in her -line."</p> - -<p>"What was she like?" asked Simonetta.</p> - -<p>"She looked blondish, but the color wasn't coming across too well. -Not bad looking, in a breezy sort of way. The agent that sprung her -had to skip too, because he thought the Greenhavens—they call them -Greenies—had spotted his disguise."</p> - -<p>"Oh, boy!" breathed Pauline. "The cops must have been hot on their -trail!"</p> - -<p>"Either that, or he wanted to go along with her for other reasons," -said Westervelt. "They seemed kind of chummy."</p> - -<p>"Can they do that?" asked Beryl. "I mean, without orders, and all that?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt grinned.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," he admitted, "but he's doing it. He can't go back now. -Anyway, Smitty simmered down fast and promised a draft for expenses -would be waiting for him when the ship made planetfall. Technically, -the D.I.R. ought to pay, because it turns out the guy is on their rolls -and was only working with us temporarily."</p> - -<p>Simonetta nodded wisely.</p> - -<p>"You watch our boss," she predicted. "He'll have this man on our lists. -He always gets free with the money when he sees a good prospect from -the main branch. Even if they stay in the honest side of the outfit, -they co-operate with the back room here."</p> - -<p>Smith walked in with Parrish, beaming. His eye found Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Willie," he said, "make a note, and tomorrow look up the planet -Rotchen II. I have to send credits, and I didn't want to say into wide, -wide space that I didn't know where it is. Bad for the department's -prestige!"</p> - -<p>He looked about genially.</p> - -<p>"I see you've told the news," he commented. "It was a lift for me too. -We haven't done too badly, after all. Won two, lost one—damn!—and one -is still a stalemate."</p> - -<p>"Anyone tell Bob?" asked Parrish quietly.</p> - -<p>They all exchanged searching glances. Smith began to lose some of his -ebullience. After a moment, he turned to Pauline.</p> - -<p>"Buzz his office!" he said in a preoccupied tone.</p> - -<p>Westervelt tried to subdue a mild chill along the backbone as Pauline -gave Smith a wide-eyed look and slipped into her cubbyhole.</p> - -<p><i>He couldn't have phoned downstairs</i>, he reassured himself. <i>Pauline -would say all the lines were busy, or cut off or something. But what if -he looked out a window?</i></p> - -<p>Smith had sauntered over to the center desk, where he waited beside the -phone. It seemed to be taking Pauline a long time.</p> - -<p>"Check with Joe," advised Parrish. "Then try around the other rooms. -Ten to one he's in the lab."</p> - -<p>"Has anyone seen him in the last half hour?" asked Smith.</p> - -<p>Westervelt pointed out that he had been the chief's company in the -communications room. The girls had not seen Lydman, but admitted that -he might have gone past in the corridor without their having noticed.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, he doesn't make much noise," Parrish agreed.</p> - -<p>Smith had a thought. He moved toward his own office, paused to jerk his -head significantly toward Parrish's, and opened his own door. Parrish -went over past Beryl's desk and thrust his head into his own office. -Lydman was not in either room.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Smith!" called Pauline in a worried tone. "I'm sorry, but I can't -seem to reach him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Christ!" said Parrish. "He isn't talking again!"</p> - -<p>He did something Westervelt had never seen that self-possessed man -resort to before this evening. He began to gnaw nervously upon a -knuckle. He saw the youth staring, and snatched his hand from his mouth.</p> - -<p>Smith glowered unhappily at the floor. Westervelt thought he could hear -his own pulse, so quiet had the office grown.</p> - -<p>The chief backed up to the unpleasant decision.</p> - -<p>"We'd better spread out and wander around until someone sees him face -to face," he said. "If he wants to be let alone, let him alone! Just -pass the word on where he is."</p> - -<p>Westervelt volunteered to go down one wing while Parrish took the -other. As they left, cautioned to take their time and act natural, -Smith was telling the girls to open the doors to the adjacent offices -again and keep their ears tuned, in case Lydman should come looking for -him or Parrish.</p> - -<p>Westervelt turned right past the stairs, and went to the door of the -library.</p> - -<p><i>It will be perfectly natural</i>, he told himself. <i>We made out on two -cases. I just want to tell him about it, in case he hasn't heard. Why -the hell don't they get that cable fixed? They want their bills paid on -time, don't they?</i></p> - -<p>He could hear the newcasts now, about how tough a job the electricians -faced, and how tense was the situation. Westervelt decided he would not -listen.</p> - -<p>He opened the door to the library casually and sauntered in. The pose -was wasted; Lydman was not there.</p> - -<p>Westervelt went on to the conference room on this side, and found it -empty as well. He looked in on Joe Rosenkrantz, who, from the door, -appeared to be alone. Just to leave no stone unturned, he retreated up -the hall to the door marked "Shaft" and poked his head inside. He had -to grope around for a light switch, and when he found it was rewarded -with nothing more than the sight of a number of conduits running from -floor to unfinished ceiling. A little dust drifted down on him from -atop the ones that bent to run to outlets on the same floor.</p> - -<p>"Well, nobody can say I overlooked anything," grumbled Westervelt.</p> - -<p>He went back to the communications room. Rosenkrantz was listening -in on some conversation from a station on Luna that was none of his -business.</p> - -<p>"Any sign of Lydman around here?" asked Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Not since the Yoleen brawl," grunted Rosenkrantz. "That's a -good-looking babe running that Lunar station. Why can't we dig up some -messages for them?"</p> - -<p>"I'll work on it," promised Westervelt halfheartedly.</p> - -<p>He walked quietly around the corner past the power equipment. No -Lydman. The next step was the laboratory. He looked at his watch, then -leaned against the wire mesh partition for a good ten minutes. Let -Parrish cover the ground, he decided.</p> - -<p>In the end, with no sign of Parrish or Lydman, he opened the door and -stepped into the dark laboratory. He made his way cautiously ahead, -thinking that Lydman was probably in his office. Feeling his path with -slow steps, and carefully avoiding the possibility of tipping over any -of the stacks of cartons, he had progressed to the center of the large -chamber when the lights went on.</p> - -<p>Westervelt felt as if he had jumped a foot, and the blood pounded -through his veins.</p> - -<p>Gaping around with open mouth, he finally met the eye of Pete Parrish, -who stood half inside the doorway to the corridor, his hand still -raised to the light switch.</p> - -<p>They both relaxed. Parrish smiled feebly, with less than normal display -of his fine teeth. Westervelt contented himself with passing a hand -across his forehead. It came away damp.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Parrish, "where was he?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt closed his eyes and groaned.</p> - -<p>"You're kidding," he said. "Please say you're kidding! It's too late in -the day to fool around, Pete."</p> - -<p>Parrish looked alarmed. He strode forward, letting the door close -behind him. Westervelt, finding himself shivering in a draft, went to -meet him.</p> - -<p>"I'm not kidding at all," said Parrish. "Did you look everywhere? Are -you sure?"</p> - -<p>"I even poked into the power shaft," retorted Westervelt. "Were you in -his office?"</p> - -<p>"Naturally. I checked everything, even the men's room."</p> - -<p>They had wandered back to the corridor door, peering about the -laboratory to make sure no one could have concealed himself on the -floor under a workbench, or behind a pile of cartons.</p> - -<p>Parrish opened the door, and they stood puzzling at the empty hall.</p> - -<p>"He wasn't even taking a shower," said the elder man.</p> - -<p>Westervelt brooded for a moment.</p> - -<p>"Did you say <i>everywhere</i>?" he insisted.</p> - -<p>"Well ... everywhere he would have any call to go."</p> - -<p>They stood there, passing the buck silently back and forth between -them. At length, Parrish said, "I'll just look again in his office and -the other two rooms, in case he <i>was</i>, and slipped out behind me."</p> - -<p>Westervelt watched him run lightly up the hall to each of the doors. -Parrish's expression, as he returned slowly, was something to behold.</p> - -<p>"I'll go," said Westervelt grouchily.</p> - -<p>Parrish put a hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>"No, that wouldn't look natural. I'll phone Smitty to send one of the -girls down."</p> - -<p>"Better phone him to send two," suggested Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Yeah," agreed Parrish. "That's even more natural. Watch the hall while -I buzz them."</p> - -<p>He went into Lydman's office. Westervelt leaned in the laboratory -doorway, feeling depressed. After some delay, he sighted Simonetta and -Beryl turning the far corner with their pocketbooks in hand. Neither -one looked particularly pleased, but their expressions lightened a bit -at the sight of him.</p> - -<p>"You there, Pete?" murmured Westervelt.</p> - -<p>"Right at the door," whispered Parrish from inside Lydman's office.</p> - -<p>The girls clicked in muffled unison along the hall. Beryl paused at the -entrance to the ladies' rest room. She raised her eyebrows uncertainly -at Simonetta. The dark girl threw Westervelt a puzzled shrug, then -pushed past Beryl and went inside. The blonde followed almost on her -heels.</p> - -<p>Westervelt waited. When he thought he could no longer stand it, Parrish -hissed, "How long are they in there, Willie?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said the youth, "but maybe we'd better—"</p> - -<p>The door opened. Simonetta and Beryl walked out, staring quizzically at -the two men, who had taken a few steps toward them.</p> - -<p>"What is this gag?" asked Simonetta. "There's no one in there. Who -would be in there?"</p> - -<p>Parrish swore luridly, and none of them seemed to notice.</p> - -<p>"It <i>can't</i> be!" he exclaimed. "You're sure?"</p> - -<p>"Of course we're sure," said Beryl.</p> - -<p>"What if the power came on and we didn't notice?" mused Parrish. "He -wouldn't just leave and not tell any of us, would he?"</p> - -<p>"You know him better than I do," commented Beryl. "I'm beginning to -wonder, from what you told us on the phone, if he jumped out of a -window somewhere. I know it's a terrible thing to bring up—"</p> - -<p>Westervelt stopped listening to her. He was remembering the draft he -had felt, twice now, in the laboratory.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="TWENTY" id="TWENTY">TWENTY</a></h2> - - -<p>Westervelt watched them walk up the hall. He thought of going back into -the laboratory to find the open window. In his mind, he could see the -straight, twenty-five story drop down the side of the dark tower to the -roof of the larger part of the building.</p> - -<p>He recalled having looked down once or twice. The people down there had -paved patios outside their offices. A hurtling body would....</p> - -<p>He shook the thought out of his head and hurried to catch up to Parrish -and the two girls.</p> - -<p>They trouped into the main office and took turns in telling Smith -the story. He flatly refused to believe it for about five minutes. -Ultimately convinced, he told Pauline to check Rosenkrantz by phone -every ten minutes.</p> - -<p>"If we're wrong," he said, "it's unfair to have him sitting down there -all alone. Bob might somehow have outsmarted us, but if he did it to -this extent, it means he isn't safe on the loose!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt noticed that Simonetta was looking pale. He wondered about -his own features. The eye would probably stand out very picturesquely.</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it," he said when the others had all fallen silent.</p> - -<p>They looked at him, hoping to be convinced.</p> - -<p>"He isn't that kind," said Westervelt. "All right, you tell me he had a -hard time in space and it left him a little off; but this doesn't sound -like the direction he would go off in."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, Willie?" asked Smith intently.</p> - -<p>"Well ... maybe he'd run wild. Maybe he'd get desperate and blow -something up. I could see him taking a torch to that door and burning -anybody that tried to stop him...."</p> - -<p>He paused as they hung on his words.</p> - -<p>"... but I <i>can't</i> see him quitting!" said Westervelt. "If he was that -kind, he never would have gotten back to Terra, would he?"</p> - -<p>Smith snapped his fingers and looked around.</p> - -<p>"Sure, sure," he said. "I don't know what I was thinking up in my -imagination. We've all heard Bob utter a threat now and then, when some -bems out in deep space broke his own private law, but no one ever heard -him even hint at suicide."</p> - -<p>He grinned ruefully, and added, "I should have thought of it myself—I -had to review his application and examinations when he came to us."</p> - -<p>"Some days," said Parrish, "are just too much. Nobody's fault."</p> - -<p>"Then, in that case," said Westervelt, "there was one little thing I -noticed."</p> - -<p>He told them about the open window. Who would keep a window open with -the building air-conditioning operating as perfectly as it did?</p> - -<p>Smith fell to running his hands through his hair again.</p> - -<p>"Now, let's <i>think</i>!" he muttered. "There must be some logical -explanation."</p> - -<p><i>Logical explanations</i>, Westervelt thought, <i>are always the reasons -other people think of, not me.</i></p> - -<p>He found a space to sit on the edge of the empty desk. Simonetta leaned -beside him, and Beryl wandered over to the window of the switchboard -cubicle to listen as Pauline checked Rosenkrantz.</p> - -<p>She shook her head to Smith's inquiring look.</p> - -<p>Then Lydman strolled through the double doors.</p> - -<p>"What's the conference about?" he asked.</p> - -<p>Beryl let out a shriek. Her back had been to the corridor when she -jumped, but she came down facing the other way.</p> - -<p>Everyone stiffened.</p> - -<p>Lydman stood quietly, regarding them with considerable calm.</p> - -<p>After a moment, Beryl tottered back to lean against the glass of -Pauline's window. She pressed one hand to her solar plexus, looking as -if she might fold up at any breath.</p> - -<p>"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Mr. Lydman...."</p> - -<p>He examined her with a clinical detachment.</p> - -<p>"Doesn't someone have a tranquilizer for her?" he asked. "I don't -usually scare pretty girls."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, no, no ... it's just that ... I mean, everyone was worried -about you," stammered Beryl.</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Lydman. "Don't you think I can take care of myself?"</p> - -<p>For the first time, Westervelt noticed the curiously set expression on -the ex-spacer's face. He had until then been too busy watching Beryl -and trying to calm his own nerves. He could not be certain, but it -seemed as if Lydman's forehead displayed a faint sheen of perspiration.</p> - -<p>"Of course you can, Bob," said Smith. "We were—"</p> - -<p>Beryl, nearly to the point of hysteria in her relief, got the ball away -from him.</p> - -<p>"We were worried about the elevator being stopped," she babbled. "And -the door—you'll never believe it, Mr. Lydman, but the door to the -emergency stairs wouldn't open!"</p> - -<p>Westervelt thought he heard Parrish swear, then realized it had been -his own voice. He started to step in front of Simonetta.</p> - -<p>Parrish was moving slowly in Lydman's direction, trying to look at ease -but looking tense instead.</p> - -<p>"Dammit!" shouted Smith. "Beryl, you're <i>fired</i>!"</p> - -<p>It did not seem to register on anybody, Beryl least of all. Lydman was -confounding them all by standing quietly. His face tightened a little -more at the news, but it did not seem to be the expression of a man who -had just taken a bad jolt.</p> - -<p>"I know," he said. "I looked at it a couple of times after I saw the -blackout downstairs."</p> - -<p>Smith regarded him warily.</p> - -<p>"How do you feel, Bob?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"You know how I feel," said Lydman.</p> - -<p>He let his gaze wander from one to another of them. Westervelt felt a -chill as the handsome eyes looked through him in turn, but accepted the -comforting realization that the stare was about as usual.</p> - -<p>Beryl was the picture of a girl afraid to breathe out loud, but the -others relaxed cautiously. Smith even planted one hip on the corner of -Simonetta's desk and tried to look casual.</p> - -<p>"You seem to be doing pretty well," he said. "We were thinking of -looking in the lab for something to cut the latch with, but it might -have been waste motion. They should be getting the power on any minute -now."</p> - -<p>"I think...." Lydman began.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I guess we could find something in the lists," pursued Smith. "If -you'd rather we look...?"</p> - -<p>"I have several things we could use," said Lydman.</p> - -<p>He walked into the office proper and looked about for a chair. -Westervelt stepped back of the center desk and brought him the chair -of the vacationing secretary. Lydman sat down beside the partition -screening the active files opposite Simonetta's desk.</p> - -<p>"In fact," continued the ex-space, "I got them out when I was trying to -figure how much that door would stand. Then I decided that would only -raise a commotion."</p> - -<p>Westervelt watched him with growing interest. Now that he had the man -at closer range, he was sure that it was a tremendous effort of will -that kept Lydman so relatively calm. The man seemed to be seething -underneath his tautly controlled exterior.</p> - -<p>"What did you think of doing?" asked Smith carefully.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I dug out a better gadget, one that would do <i>me</i> more good, -anyhow," said Lydman. "It's a little rocket gun attached to a cannister -of fine wire ladder."</p> - -<p>"Wire ladder?" repeated Smith.</p> - -<p>"Yeah. About six inches wide at the most. I opened a window and shot it -up to the flight deck. Say—did you know some hijackers stole all three -of our 'copters?"</p> - -<p>"Stole all three of...." Smith's voice dwindled away. When no one else -broke the silence, he forced himself to resume. "Yes, I knew. What I -would deeply appreciate, Robert, is your telling me how the hell <i>you</i> -knew!"</p> - -<p>He finished yelling. Westervelt thought that he looked at least as bad -as Lydman. Anyone twenty feet away would have completely misjudged them.</p> - -<p>"Just as I said," answered Lydman with his tight calm. "I shot this -ladder to the roof and climbed up."</p> - -<p>"You climbed up? <i>Outside the building?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Of course, outside," said Lydman, for the first time showing a trace -of snappishness. "I couldn't stand it <i>inside</i>."</p> - -<p>He looked around at them again, surprised that there was the slightest -hesitation to accept his statement.</p> - -<p>"We'll have to redesign that ladder, though," he said. "It's a mite too -fine—cuts the hell out of your hands!"</p> - -<p>He held out his palms. Across each were several welts. One, on his -right hand, had apparently resumed bleeding stickily since Lydman had -come in. He fumbled out a handkerchief with his other hand and blotted -it.</p> - -<p>Smith held his hands to his head.</p> - -<p>"I can't swallow it yet!" he groaned. "You feel ... uneasy ... in here, -so you go out a window ninety-nine floors in the air—"</p> - -<p>"Only twenty-four above the set-back, really," Lydman corrected him.</p> - -<p>"It's enough, isn't it? So you go out, climb up to the helicopter -roof, and <i>then</i> climb down again and back through the window! And you -pretend to feel better. I would have had a heart attack!"</p> - -<p>"Who wouldn't?" said Westervelt.</p> - -<p>The mere conception of what it must have been like made him feel sick.</p> - -<p>"As long as I know it's there," muttered Lydman. "As long as I know -it's there. I can use that way any time. Just don't anybody pull that -little ladder down."</p> - -<p>"Would...?"</p> - -<p>The meek little syllable came from Beryl, who had now managed to stand -without the support of the partition.</p> - -<p>Every head in the room swiveled to bear upon her. She gulped, and found -part of her voice.</p> - -<p>"Would there be an old martini lying around in the locker?" she asked. -"I'm afraid to go for it myself because my knees feel as if they'll -collapse at the first step."</p> - -<p>There was a general outburst of laughter that revealed the enormity of -their relief. Parrish hurried over to put an arm around the blonde, and -Smith himself went to the locker and opened it.</p> - -<p>With the break in the tension, Beryl managed to walk pretty well, -perhaps with a little more swagger of the hips than usual, Westervelt -thought. Smith found a drink for her, and insisted that Lydman have -tea. The chief pulled the tab himself and held the cup for the few -seconds required to heat the beverage.</p> - -<p>Most of them, like Westervelt, had had too many coffees or sandwiches, -and were content to sit down and regain their composure. Westervelt was -mildly surprised to see Parrish take a position behind Lydman and knead -the big man's neck muscles to relax him.</p> - -<p>"Did they tell you the news yet?" asked Smith. "We got two out—Syssoka -and Greenhaven!"</p> - -<p>"No!" said Lydman, managing a smile. "Tell me, but if I get up to leave -in the middle, I'd rather you didn't stop me."</p> - -<p>"Nobody is stopping anybody tonight!" said Smith, and fell to giving -his assistant an account of Taranto and Meyers.</p> - -<p>Westervelt got up quietly and padded into the switchboard cubbyhole.</p> - -<p>"Lend me your headset, Pauline," he murmured, "and punch Joe's number."</p> - -<p>"Sure," said the little blonde.</p> - -<p>She left the screen off and kissed him behind the ear just as -Rosenkrantz answered.</p> - -<p>"Nothing personal, Willie," she giggled. "I just feel so relieved!"</p> - -<p>"Who is it now?" demanded Rosenkrantz's voice. "You left the lens off, -did you know that?"</p> - -<p>"It's Willie, Joe. He came back and he's sitting down having tea."</p> - -<p>"<i>Back?</i> Where was he?"</p> - -<p>Westervelt told him.</p> - -<p>Then he told him again and switched off. Joe, he thought, would have to -live with it for a while.</p> - -<p>When he stepped out of the cubicle, everyone was watching Smith -narrate, with broad gestures, the flummoxing of the staid authorities -of Greenhaven. The chief was not above calling upon Parrish for an -estimate of the charms of Maria Ringstad that caused an outcry among -the girls. Lydman smiled politely, but not from the heart. He was still -quietly reserved.</p> - -<p>Everyone was watching Smith. No one paid any attention to the redhaired -man who drifted into the office area just as Westervelt squirmed past -Pauline and stepped out of the switchboard room.</p> - -<p>The youth blinked at the topcoat over the man's arm. He focused upon -the wavy hair and reached for the man's shoulder to turn him around.</p> - -<p>"Charlie Colborn!" he yelped.</p> - -<p>Smith got it first.</p> - -<p>"Well, now," he said, standing up. "If it's getting so everybody and -his brother start parading through that door at this time of night, I'm -leaving! Where's my hat, Si?"</p> - -<p>Lydman had caught on almost as quickly, and was on his feet before the -general whoop went up.</p> - -<p>"I just want to phone my wife," said Colborn. "It's so late I might as -well stay here the rest of the night. What's keeping all of you?"</p> - -<p>They glared at him.</p> - -<p>"The power's been on for fifteen minutes," he told them. "I would have -been up sooner, but that nut of a building manager insisted on running -test trips with all the elevators before he'd let anyone come up."</p> - -<p>Lydman had started for the elevator, in shirtsleeves as he was and -carrying a cup of tea in one hand and a bloody handkerchief. There was -no doubt that he meant to go home that way.</p> - -<p>"BOB!" roared Smith. "All of you—<i>listen</i>!"</p> - -<p>Lydman stopped but did not turn around.</p> - -<p>"In the first place, Charlie," said Smith, "you are <i>not</i> going to call -your wife from here unless you faithfully give the impression that you -are all alone. If you slip, I'll swear to her I saw you picked up by -two redheads in a helicopter and you had all the office petty cash with -you."</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"Tell her the traffic was too much. Don't tell her we couldn't get to -the street. That goes for everybody else too!"</p> - -<p>"But ... <i>why</i>?" Colborn got out.</p> - -<p>"Why? You want the D.I.R. boys throwing this up to us every time I try -to get money out of them for the bare necessities of our operation? We -can get people out of dungeons on planets not even in the Galatlas, but -can't even escape from our own little hideaway?"</p> - -<p>"It never happened," Parrish agreed quickly.</p> - -<p>"Damn' right!" said Smith. "Okay, Bob, push the button! Go with him, -Willie! You girls—nobody in before noon tomorrow; we have an extra TV -operator to take care of things."</p> - -<p>"Look, I...." Colborn started to say as he stepped out of Westervelt's -way.</p> - -<p>"Aw, thanks for phoning in the first place," grinned Smith, punching -him lightly on the shoulder. "Wait for me downstairs, Willie! We'll see -what we can do about Harris tomorrow!"</p> - -<p>"Appoint him an ambassador," muttered Westervelt, coming up behind -Lydman as the elevator door slid smoothly open.</p> - -<p><i>What an outfit!</i> he thought to himself. <i>I'm going to apply for field -duty, where you can get out among the stars and let someone else figure -ways to keep you out of trouble.</i></p> - -<p>Somehow, incredibly, everyone but Colborn managed to catch the same -elevator.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/bcover.jpg" width="295" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of D-99, by H.B. 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Fyfe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: D-99 - -Author: H.B. Fyfe - -Release Date: April 26, 2016 [EBook #51866] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK D-99 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - D-99 - - a science-fiction novel by - - H. B. FYFE - - PYRAMID BOOKS - NEW YORK - - D-99 - - A PYRAMID BOOK - - First Printing, November 1962 - - _This book is fiction. No resemblance is intended - between any character herein and any person, living - or dead; any such resemblance is purely coincidental._ - - Copyright, 1962 by Pyramid Publications, Inc. - All Rights Reserved - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - PYRAMID BOOKS _are published by Pyramid Publications, Inc., - 444 Madison Avenue, New York 22, New York, U.S.A._ - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - -_ROCKETS SLAMMED PAST_ - - ---just missing the tall, gaunt man who dodged down the stairs of the -Earth Embassy. A figure loomed in a doorway and he snapped off a quick -blaster shot at it--missed. - -He'd killed one man, wounded others--and was carrying papers stolen -from the secret Embassy files. They had to stop him--but they couldn't! - ---And, worlds away, the men of Department 99 watched on their -galaxy-spanning view-screen ... knowing they were responsible for this -disaster--and powerless to do anything about it! - - - - -ONE - - -At the ninety-fifth floor, Westervelt left the public elevator for -a private automatic one which he took four floors further. When he -stepped out, the dark, lean youth faced an office entrance whose -double, transparent doors bore the discreet legend: "Department 99." - -He crossed the hall and entered. Waving at the little blonde in the -switchboard cubby to the right of the doorway, he continued a few steps -into the office beyond. Two secretaries looked up from the row of desks -facing him, a third place being unoccupied. Behind them, long windows -filtered the late afternoon light to a mellow tint. - -"Did you get it all right, Willie?" asked the dark girl to his left. -"Mr. Smith wants you to take it right in. He expected you earlier." - -"My flight from London was late; I did the best I could after we -landed," said Westervelt. "It took me the whole day to fetch this -gadget. At least let me get my coat off!" - -He moved to his right, to a modest desk in an alcove formed by the end -of the office and the high partition that enclosed the switchboard. - -"How do you find yourself inside that?" asked the other secretary, a -golden haired girl with a lazy smile. "Talk about women's clothes! The -men are wearing topcoats like tents this year." - -Westervelt felt himself flushing, to his disgust. He struggled out of -the coat, removed an oblong package and a large envelope from inner -pockets, and tossed the coat on his desk. - -It had hardly settled before the door at the opposite end of the -office, beyond the dark girl, was flung open. From the next room -lumbered a man who looked even lankier than Westervelt because he was -an inch or two over six feet tall. His broad forehead was grooved by a -scowl of concentration that brought heavy eyebrows nearly together over -a high-bridged nose. His chin seemed longer for his chewing nervously -upon his lower lip. He was in shirtsleeves and badly needed a haircut. - -"I'm going down to the com room, Miss Diorio," he told the brunette. -"There's another weird report coming in!" - -He vanished into the hall with a clatter. - -His secretary looked at Westervelt, a smile tugging at the corners of -her full lips. She threw up her hands with a little flip. - -"I told you to take it right in," she reminded him. - -"Aw, come on, Si! What if I'd been in the doorway when he came through?" - -"What is it, anyway?" asked the other girl. - -Westervelt looked around as she rose. Beryl Austin, he thought, would -be a knockout if only there were less of a hint of ice about her. She -was, in her high heels, only an inch shorter than he. Her face was -round, but with a delicate bone structure that lent it an odd beauty. -Westervelt was privately of the opinion that she spoiled the effect by -wearing her hair in a style too short and too precisely arranged. _And -too bleached_, he told himself. - -The talk was that before coming to the Department, she had won two or -three minor beauty contests. That might explain the meticulous make-up -and the smart blue dress that followed the curves of her figure so -flatteringly. Westervelt suspected, from hints dropped by Simonetta -Diorio, that this was insufficient qualification for being a secretary, -even in such a peculiar institution as Department 99. Of course, maybe -Smith had ideas of making her a field agent. - -He held out the package in the palm of his hand. - -"They said at the London lab that it was a special flashlight that -would pass for an ordinary one." - -"Oh, the one for that Antares case," exclaimed Beryl. "Si was telling -me how they'll send out plans of that. Did they show you how it works?" - -"It gives just a dim beam until you press an extra switch," said -Westervelt. "Then it puts out a series of dashes bright enough to hurt -your eyes." - -"What in the world do they want that for?" asked Beryl. - -"What in some other world, you mean! On some of these planets, the -native life is so used to a dim red sun that a flash like this on their -sensitive eyes can knock them unconscious." - -"This place is just full of dirty tricks like that," said the blonde. -"Why can't they free these people some other way?" - -Westervelt and Simonetta looked at each other. Beryl had been in the -Department only a few weeks, and did not yet seem to have heard the -word. - -_Or understood it, maybe_, thought Westervelt. _She might not look half -so intelligent without that nice chest expansion._ - -"Some of them just get in trouble," Simonetta was saying. "The laws of -alien peoples we've been meeting around the galaxy don't necessarily -make sense to Terrans." - -"But why can't they stay away from such queer places?" - -"What would you do," asked Westervelt, "if you were in a spaceship that -blew up near a strange planetary system, and you took an emergency -rocket to land on the best looking planet, and the local bems arrested -you because they have a law against anyone passing through their system -without special permission?" - -"But how can they make a law like that?" demanded Beryl. - -"Who says they can't? They had a war with beings from the star nearest -them; and wound up suspicious of every kind of spaceship. We have a -case like that now." - -"They've been working on it two months," Simonetta confirmed. "Those -poor men were jailed over a month before anybody even heard about them." - -Beryl shrugged and turned back to her desk. Westervelt watched her -walk, thinking that the rear elevation was good too, until it occurred -to him that Simonetta might be taking in his expression. The blonde -settled herself and leaned back to stretch. He was willing to bet ten -credits that she did it just to get his goat. - -"Well, the work is interesting," Beryl admitted, "but I don't see why -it can't be done by the Department of Interstellar Relations. The -D.I.R. has trained diplomats and knows all about dealing with aliens." - -"Come on, now, dear!" said Simonetta. "Where do you think your paycheck -originates? Publicly, the D.I.R. doesn't like to admit that we exist. -To hide the connection, they named us after the floor we're on in this -building, and hoped that nobody would notice us." - -"I knew I was getting into something crooked!" exclaimed Beryl. - -"It depends," said Westervelt. "Suppose some Terran spacer is slung -into jail out there somewhere, for something that would never be a -crime in the Solar System. The D.I.R. protests, and the bems simply -deny they have him. How far can diplomacy go? We try getting him out -some other way." - -He held up the "flashlight." - -"Now they'll stellarfax plans of this out to Antares to our field -agents. After one is made and smuggled in to our case, all they have to -do is run in a fast ship to pick him up when he breaks out." - -"Speaking of that gadget," Simonetta suggested, "why don't you take it -down to Mr. Smith? He must be waiting out the message in the com room." - -Westervelt agreed. He took the package and the envelope of blueprints, -and walked into the hall. He turned first to his right, along the base -of the U-shaped corridor, then to his left after passing the door to -the fire stairs at the inner corner and the private entrance to Smith's -office opposite it. - -The walls were covered by a gray plastic that was softly monotonous in -the light of the luminous ceiling. The floor, nearly black, was of a -springy composition that deadened the sound of footfalls. - -Along the wing of the "U" into which he turned, Westervelt passed doors -to the department's reference library and to a conference room on his -right, and portal marked "Shaft" on his left. Beyond the latter was a -section of blank wall behind which, he knew, was a special shaft for -the power conduits that supplied the department's own communications -instruments. - -The place was a self-sufficient unit, he reflected. It had its own -TV equipment and a sub-space radio for reaching far-out spaceships, -although most routine traffic was boosted through relay stations on the -outer planets of the Solar System. - -Some lines of communication with the field agents were tenuous, but -messages usually got through. If the lines broke down, someone would be -sent to search the confidential files for a roundabout connection. - -_I wonder how many of us would wind up in court if those files became -public knowledge?_ thought Westervelt. _I'd like to see them trying to -handle Smitty! Nobody here can figure him out all the time, and we're -at least half as nutty as he is._ - -Down beside the communications room, though normally reached by the -other wing of the corridor that enclosed the core of elevators, shafts -and rest rooms, the department even had a confidential laboratory. -Actually, this was more in the nature of a stock room for peculiar -gadgets and implements used for the fell purposes of the organization. -Westervelt did not like to wander about in there, for fear of setting -something off. It was more or less the domain of the one man in the -department whom he knew to have been in an alien prison. - -Robert Lydman was an ex-spacer who had joined the group after having -been rescued from just such an incarceration as he now specialized in -cracking. Westervelt had been told that the sojourn among the stars had -left Lydman a trifle strange, which was probably why they no longer -used him as a field agent. - -He came to the blank end of the corridor, the last door on the right -being that of the communications room. He opened it and stuck his head -inside. - -The room was dimmer than the corridor. The operators, who sometimes -had to contend with much-relayed faint images on their screens, liked -it that way. They kept the window filters adjusted so that it might -as well be night outside. Here and there, small lights glowed at -various radio receivers or tape recording instruments, and there was a -pervading background rustle of static blended with quiet whistles and -mutterings. - -At the moment, the operator on duty was Charlie Colborn, a quiet -redhead who kept a locker full of electronic gadgets for tinkering -during slow periods. Smith sat near him in a straight-backed chair, -watching the screen before Colborn. - -A message was coming in from the Pluto relay--Westervelt recognized -the distant operator who spoke briefly to Colborn before putting the -message through. The next face, blurry from repeated boosting of the -image, was that of a stranger. - -"This is Johnson, on Trident," the man said. "Capella IV tells me they -gave you the facts about Harris. That right?" - -Smith hitched himself closer, so the transmitter lens could pick him -up. Westervelt tip-toed inside and found himself a stool. - -"We just got the outlines," Smith said. "You say this spacer is being -held by the natives, and they won't let you communicate with him. Have -you reported to the D.I.R.?" - -The distance and the relaying caused a few seconds of lag, even with -the ultra-modern sub-space equipment. - -"I _am_ the D.I.R.," said the face on the screen, after a bitter pause. -"Along with several other jobs, commercial and official. There are only -a few of us Terrans at this post, you know. The natives won't even -admit they have him." - -"Then how can you be sure they do? And why can't you get to him -somehow?" - -"We know because he managed to get a message out--we think." Johnson -frowned doubtfully. "That is, he did if we can believe the ... ah ... -messenger. We made inquiries of the natives, but it is impossible -to make much of an investigation because their civilization is an -underwater one." - -Smith noticed Westervelt. - -"Willie," he whispered hastily, "get on the phone and have one of the -girls stop in the library and fetch me the volume of the _Galatlas_ -with Trident in it." - -Westervelt dropped his package on a table and punched Beryl's number on -the nearest phone. Meanwhile, with its weird pauses, the interstellar -talk continued. - -The missing Terran, Harris by name, had insisted against all advice at -the outpost on one of the watery planet's few islands, upon conducting -submarine exploration in a converted space scout. Since ninety-five -percent of the surface of Trident was ocean, Johnson had only a vague -idea of where Harris had gone. The point was that the explorer had -been too long out of touch. The natives, a sea people of crustacean -evolution, who were to be found over most of the ocean bottom, and who -had a considerable culture with permanent cities and jet-propelled -submarine vehicles, admitted to having heard of Harris but denied -knowledge of his whereabouts. - -"So we reported to the D.I.R. sector headquarters," Johnson concluded. -"They sent an expert to coax the Tridentian officials into visiting the -shallows for a conference, but nothing came of it. Then we called in -one of your field agents and he referred us to you." - -Beryl entered the room quietly, bearing a large book. Westervelt held -out his hand for it, but she seemed not to see him until he rose to -offer her the stool. When he turned his attention back to the screen, -Smith was probing for information which the distant Johnson sounded -reluctant to give. - -"But if they deny everything, how do you know he's not dead instead of -being held in one of their cities? Why do you think he's being made a -sort of exhibit?" - -Johnson hemmed and hawed, but finally confessed. - -Besides the crustaceans, who were about man-sized and -"civilized," there was another form of intelligent--or at least -semi-intelligent--life on Trident. Certain large, fish-like inhabitants -of the planet's seas had been contacted more than once to deliver -messages to the exploring members of the outpost. This was always -promptly accomplished by having one of the "fish" contact another of -the same species who was in the right location. - -"_What_ did you say?" demanded Smith. "Telepathic? A telepathic _fish_? -Oh, no! Don't ask us to--Well, what I mean is ... well, how do you know -they're reliable?" - -More in the same vein followed. Westervelt stopped listening when he -realized that Smith was being convinced, willing or not. Stranger -things were on record in the immensity of the known galaxy, but Smith -took the attitude that they were all a plot against Department 99. -Westervelt pried the book from Beryl's grasp and turned over pages to -the article on the planet Trident. - -He skimmed the opening, which dealt with galactic co-ordinates and the -type of star at the center of the system, and did the same with the -general description of the surface and what was known of the life forms -there. The history since discovery was laconically brief. - -_Here it is_, he told himself. _A species of life resembling a Terran -fish in general configuration, about twenty feet in length and -suspected of having some undetermined sense whereby individuals can -locate each other at great distances. Well, by the time it's in print, -it's outdated._ - -Someone turned on a brighter light, and he realized the interstellar -talk was at an end. Smith looked around. He held out his hand for the -book, seeming to take for granted that someone should have found the -page. - -"I don't see _how_ we're going to reach this one," he grunted, plopping -the volume down on the table to scan the article. - -Colborn snatched at a small piece of apparatus he had evidently been -assembling. Only Beryl was impressed; the others knew that Smith said -this of every new case. - -"Tell Mr. Lydman and Mr. Parrish I want a conference," the department -head requested. "We'll use the room next door." - -Beryl and Westervelt left Colborn examining his gadget suspiciously and -retraced their steps up the corridor. At the door to the main office, -the blonde left him, presumably to go through to the corner office -occupied by Parrish, whose secretary she was. Westervelt dwelt on the -thought of sending her on the way with a small pat, but forced himself -to continue up the other wing of the "U." - -He passed two doors on his left: another conference room and a spare -office used mainly for old files. Doors to his right led to washrooms. -This end of the hall was not blank as on the other side; it had a -door labeled "Laboratory--No Admittance." The last door to the left, -corresponding to the location of the communications room, led to -Lydman's office. - -Westervelt knocked, waited for the sound of a voice inside, and walked -in. For a moment, he saw no one, then pivoted to his right as he -remembered that Lydman kept his desk on the inner wall, around the -short corner behind the door. Everyone else who had a corner office sat -out by the windows. - -He found himself facing a heavy man whose bleached crewcut and tanned -features bespoke much time spent outdoors. Very beautiful eyes of a -dark gray-blue regarded him steadily until Westervelt felt a panicky -urge to run. - -Instead, he cleared his throat and gave Smith's message. Lydman always -had the same effect upon him for the first few minutes, although he -seemed to like Westervelt better than anyone else at the office, even -to the point of inviting him home for weekends of swimming. - -_I always get the feeling that he looks right through me and back -again,_ thought Westervelt, _but I can't see an inch into him!_ - - - - -TWO - - -Castor P. Smith sat at the head of a steel and plastic table in -the conference room, whistling thoughtfully as he waited for his -assistants. Next door in the communications room, the tortured tune his -lips emitted would have been treated as deliberate jamming. Simonetta -Diorio entered carrying a recorder, and he roused himself for a smile -of appreciation. - -"You won't forget to turn it on when you start, Mr. Smith?" she pleaded. - -"I'll keep my finger on the switch until then," he grinned. "Thanks, -Si." - -Left alone again, he told himself he would have to do something -about the reputation he was acquiring--quite without foundation, he -believed--for being absent minded. After all, he was hardly likely to -forget to record a conference when it had been his own idea. So many -ideas were tossed around on a good day that some were bound to be lost, -unless they were down on tape. Even a good steno like Simonetta could -not guarantee to keep up with it all when two or three got to talking -at once. - -Generally, he admitted to himself, he erased the tape without the -necessity of filing some brilliant solution. Still, the one in a -thousand that did turn up made the precaution worthwhile. - -He stared morosely at the volume of the _Galatlas_ he had brought from -the communications room. Sometimes, in this job, he lost his sense of -galactic direction. Calls were likely to come in from stars of which he -had never heard. - -_Wish I could get a little more help from the D.I.R._, he thought. -_It's more than having one secretary on vacation just now; we're always -short-handed. They never brought us up to strength since old Murphy -blew himself up in the lab with that little redhead. Maybe Willie will -grow into something. That will take years, though. We ought to have -some kind of training school._ - -In Smith's opinion, he should have had a larger force of full time -agents in the field, but he recognized the difficulties inherent -in the immensity of Terran-influenced space. Even recruiting was a -hit-or-miss process. He had made various working arrangements out of -chance contacts with independent spacers--he supposed that it was -unofficially expected of him--and most had worked out well. About a -dozen routine cases were currently being handled out there somewhere -by a motley group of his own men and piratical temporary help. In -addition, there were three hot cases that had required supervision from -headquarters. - -_I wonder if we should stay a little late tonight?_ he asked himself. -_I hate to ask them again, but who knows what will break with this new -skull-cracker?_ - -He looked up as Pete Parrish entered. His dapper assistant walked -around the other end of the table and took a seat on the window side. - -"I hear you have another one," he greeted Smith. - -Parrish was a trim man of thirty-six or thirty-seven, just about -average in height but slim enough to seem taller. Smith was aware that -the other took considerable pains to maintain that slimness. By his own -account, he rode well and played a fast game of squash. - -The wave in his dark hair was somewhat suppressed by careful grooming. -He smiled frequently, or at least made a show of gleaming teeth; but at -other times his neat, regular features were disciplined into a perfect -mask. - -_Thank God that he doesn't wear a mustache!_ thought Smith. _That would -put him over the brink._ - -He was reasonably certain that Parrish had given the idea careful -calculation and stopped just short of the brink. That would be typical -of the man. He had been at one time a publicist, then a salesman, on -Terra and in space. Actually, he should have been a confidence man. It -was not until the Department had stumbled across him that he had found -opportunity to exercise his real talents. He was expert at estimating -alien psychology and constructing rationalizations with which to thwart -it. - -Smith realized, self-consciously, that he had been staring through -Parrish. He passed one hand down the back of his neck, reminding -himself that he must get a haircut. He could not imagine why he kept -forgetting; it occurred to him every time he faced Parrish. He decided -further to wear a freshly pressed suit the next day. - -Lydman padded in, glanced about the room, and sat down as near to the -door as he could without leaving an obvious gap between himself and the -others. He eyed Parrish briefly, and raised one hand to check the scarf -at his throat. Lydman dressed unobtrusively, and probably would have -preferred an old-fashioned tie to the bright neck scarves favored by -current fashion. - -_I wonder why I get all the nuts?_ Smith asked himself, avoiding -the beautiful eyes by looking squarely between them. _Even the -girls--people with romantic ideas of cloak and dagger work, or the ones -that owe us favors, keep sending us peaches. Then they marry off, or go -around acting so secretive that they draw attention to us._ - -Sometimes, he had to admit, he would have preferred having a babe marry -and leave the department. Parrish was often helpful in such situations, -which was only fair since he created most of them. Twice divorced, the -assistant had lost none of his interest in women. He was as clever at -feminine psychology as at alien. - -"Well, I suppose you've heard something of the new squawk," Smith said -to break the silence. "I just don't see how we're going to reach this -one. The damned fool got himself taken on an ocean bottom." - -He proceeded to outline the facts so far reported. Parrish received -them impassively; Lydman began to scowl. The ex-spacer developed -special grudges against aliens who attempted to conceal the detention -of Terrans. - -"First, let's see where we are before we tackle this," suggested Smith. -"I've given you enough on Harris to let it percolate through your minds -while we review the other cases. It looks like something we should all -be in on." - -Sometimes he would put a case in the charge of one of them, but they -were accustomed to exchanging information and advice. - -"This business of the two spacers who were nailed for unauthorized -entry in the Syssokan system seems about ripe," he reminded them. -"Taranto and Meyers, you remember." - -"Oh, yes," said Lydman in a withdrawn tone. "The dope." - -"That's right. There was no trouble getting information about them, -just in comprehending the idiot reasoning that would maintain a law -that makes it a crime to crash-land on that planet. Terra, like any -other stellar government, is permitted one official resident there. -Fortunately, we got the D.I.R. to slip him a little memo about us -before he was sent out, and this is the outcome. They may even be on -the loose right now." - -"Let me see," mused Parrish. "Bob gave you the formula for something -that practically suspends animation, didn't he?" - -"Yeah," said Lydman. "We figured on the bastards to carry the bodies -out and dump them. A bunch of tramp spacers is standing by to pick them -up." - -"No reason why it shouldn't work," said Smith. "Variations of it have -been keeping us in business. Some day we'll slip up just by relying on -it too much, but this looks okay. How is your Greenhaven case coming, -Pete?" - -Parrish hesitated before answering. He stroked the edge of the table -with well manicured fingertips as he considered. - -"Maria Ringstad," he said thoughtfully. "These reporters should be more -careful, should have some knowledge of the cultures they poke into. -Greenhaven is hardly a colony to swash a buckle through. I suppose she -never thought they would bother a newswoman." - -"Did you ever get the answer to what she was after on Greenhaven?" - -"Nothing, just passing through!" Parrish snapped his fingers in -contempt. "She was on a space liner enroute to Altair VII to gather -material for a book. It stopped on Greenhaven to deliver a consignment -of laboratory instruments." - -"Those Greenies," Lydman put in, "are as crazy as bems. What a way to -live!" - -"They _have_ been described as the bluest colony ever derived from -Terra," agreed Smith. "I shudder to think of the life Pete would lead -there." - -Parrish smiled, but not very deeply. - -"Miss Ringstad's mistake was fairly simple-minded," he said. "They -had official prices posted in that shop she visited for souvenirs. -When they claimed to be out of the article she fancied, she had the -bad taste to offer a bonus price. On Greenhaven, this is regarded as -bribery, immorality, and economic subversion, to touch merely upon the -highlights." - -Smith sighed. - -"Why will these young girls run around doing--" - -"I don't believe you could call her a girl, exactly," Parrish -interrupted. - -"Well, this lady, then...." - -"I wouldn't guarantee that either." - -Smith shrugged and pursed his lips. "You'd be a better judge than I," -he admitted innocently. "I yield to superior qualifications." - -Lydman grinned. Parrish maintained his mask. - -"I suppose that might make it even more dangerous for her," Smith went -on. "I forget what you said the sentence was, but suppose she starts to -get smart in jail. Would any snappy Terran humor pass there?" - -"By no means!" said Parrish emphatically. "I would not expect them to -burn her at the stake in this day and age, but they _would_ talk about -it as being one of the good old ways. Fortunately, their speaking and -writing Terran makes this easy. Terrans are all black sinners, but -plenty of Terrans are necessary around the spaceports. We keep a few -agents among them. One of them is going to pull the paper trick to -spring her." - -"I'd rather leave them a bomb," said Lydman, almost to himself. - -Smith frequently wondered that such a rugged man should speak in so -quiet a voice. At times, Lydman used a monotone that was barely audible. - -"We hope to destroy all evidence," added Parrish. "Otherwise, it will -lead to the usual diplomatic notes, and the D.I.R. will be telling us -we never were authorized to do any such thing." - -"Yes," said Smith, nodding wearily. "Actually, you couldn't find our -specific duties written down anywhere; and there is _nothing_ we are -forbidden to do either--as long as it succeeds. Well, none of us will -see the day when the D.I.R. will publicly recognize us to the extent -of chopping our heads into the basket. They _have_ been yapping at me, -though, for drawing complaints in the Gerson case." - -Lydman had been sitting with his gaze narrowed upon a pencil gripped in -his big fists. Now he raised his head, scenting interference in his own -project. - -"How can the Yoleenites complain? They claim they don't even have -Gerson!" - -"Easy!" Smith soothed him. "We have an embassy and spaceport there, -remember, that you've been relying on. You had them make some -inquiries, didn't you?" - -"Had to confirm the report somehow. All we had was the story of a -kidnapping from the captain of that freighter. It might not have been -true." - -"I realize that," said Smith. - -"It wouldn't have been the first time a spacer got left behind because -he didn't make countdown--or because they didn't want him around at -payoff." - -"Sure," Parrish agreed smoothly. "You could tell us about that." - -Lydman turned to look at him, so suddenly that a silence fell among -them. Parrish averted his gaze uncomfortably, and reached into the -breast pocket of his maroon jacket for a box of cigarettes. He busied -himself puffing one alight from the chemical lighter set in the bottom -of the box. - -_One day I'll have to pull them apart_, thought Smith, _and I'm not big -enough. Where does my wife get the nerve to say the neighbors don't -know what to make of an average guy like me, just because I can't talk -about my work?_ - -"At any rate," he said quietly, "they took the attitude that even to -ask them about the incident was insulting. It seemed to rock the top -brass." - -"What do _they_ know about Yoleen?" growled Lydman, giving up his -scrutiny of Parrish. - -"Not a thing, probably. They make decisions on the basis of how many -toes they've stubbed lately. Right now, it sounds like only routine -panic. That reminds me--I meant to check with Emil Starke about that." - -He shoved back his chair and stepped over to a phone table nearby. -Switching on both screen and sound, he waited until the cute little -blonde at the board came on. - -"Pauline, get me Emil Starke at the D.I.R., please. Extension 1563." - -"Yes, Mr. Smith," said Pauline and disappeared from the screen. - -In a few moments, Smith was greeting a man of about fifty, gray at the -temples to the point of appearing over-distinguished. - -"Listen, Emil," he said, getting down to business after the amenities -about families and children had been observed. "I have a case on my -hands concerning a planet named Yoleen--" - -The man on the screen was already nodding. - -"Yes, I heard they were chewing you about that this morning," he said, -smiling. "I trust you preserved some sort of sang-froid?" - -"What's in their minds?" asked Smith. - -"Oh ... it seems that the Space Force is nervous over the Yoleenites. -They are unable to evaluate the culture comfortably. To cover -themselves, I imagine, they send a warning now and then on the -possibilities of hostile relations." - -"Anything to it?" - -Starke grimaced briefly. - -"Unlikely. Some of the lads upstairs let it make them nervous." - -Smith chuckled. "Upstairs," they came and went, but Starke and men like -him ran things and knew what went on. - -"Then I can go ahead without covering my tracks too deeply?" he asked. -"I mean, I won't have to lie openly to my boss?" - -"Give him a few days to see the other side," Starke assured him, "and -he will be demanding to know why you have not taken steps. Have them -taken by then!" - -Smith thanked him for the advice, switched off, and returned to his -place at the table. Nods from the others confirmed that they had heard. - -"I have a feeling about those Yoleenites," grumbled Lydman. - -Smith waited for elucidation, but the big man had sunk into -contemplation. The other two eyed him, then each other. Parrish -shrugged ever so slightly. Smith gnawed at his lower lip. - -"Well, then, you'll be going ahead with what you planned," he reminded -Lydman. - -"Oh, sure!" answered the ex-spacer, snapping out of it. "Can't help it. -I've already sent him something useful." - -The others smiled. "Something useful" was Lydman's term for a cleverly -designed break-out instrument. Smith hoped that in this case it would -not turn out to be a bomb. - -"We dug a little mechanical crawler out of the files," Lydman went -on. "The Yoleenites seem to build their cities like a conglomeration -of pueblos, very intricate and with hardly any open streets. There -would probably be a hundred routes in to Gerson, even if we knew -exactly where he is. This gadget is adjusted to home on certain body -temperatures which it can detect at some distance." - -"And Gerson would be the only living thing there at ninety-eight point -six." - -"Exactly. Of course, the thing has a general direction and search -pattern micro-taped in. That's the best they could do, because the boys -have only a rough idea of where the cell would be." - -"It sounds too easy to intercept," objected Parrish. - -"That worries me a little," admitted Lydman. "It would be worse to fly -something in, and it's impossible to send anyone in because they say -they haven't got him. The gadget is set to have an affinity for dark -corners, at least." - -"And how does it get him out?" pursued Parrish. - -"It carries a little pocket music player with micro-tapes that will -actually play for a couple of hours. They can't tell for sure that -Gerson didn't have it with him--if they spot it at all. When he opens -the back as a little jingle in the first tune will instruct him to do, -he has a miniature torch hot enough to cut the guts out of any lock -between him and the outside." - -"Someone will be watching for him, I suppose?" asked Smith. - -"Sure. Once he's out of the place, the Yoleenites can hardly demand -that we give back what they say they never had. Off to the embassy with -him and onto the first ship! And I hope he kills a few of the bastards -on the way out--they won't even have grounds for an official complaint!" - -The other two avoided looking at him for a moment. Parrish stirred -uneasily. - -"I hope it--What I mean is, these Yoleenites give me an uneasy feeling -the same as they do you, Bob. Experience tells me that some of these -hive-like cultures think along peculiar lines. No wonder the Space -Force finds them hard to understand! I recommend that we open a general -file on them." - -"It might be just as well," Smith agreed, considering. "They may give -us more business in the future." - -He pushed back his chair and rose. - -"Let's take a break while I see if any new reports have come in. Then -maybe we can work out something on the new mess." - - - - -THREE - - -Louis Taranto sat on his heels against the baked clay wall of the -cell, watching the sweat run down the face of his companion. Though -he privately considered Harvey Meyers a very weak link, he had so -far restrained himself from hinting as much. They were in this hole -together, and he might well need the blubbery loudmouth's help to get -out--if there were any way to get out. - -Meyers sat on the single bench with which their jailers had provided -them, staring mournfully at the rude table upon which he rested his -elbows. He was unusually quiet, as if the heat had drained him of all -anxiety. - -_Sloppy bum!_ thought Taranto. _He could at least comb his hair!_ - -They were allowed occasional access to toilet articles which the -Syssokans had obtained from the one Terran officially in residence on -the planet. Taranto had shaved the day before, but the other had not -bothered for more than a week. Meyers was perhaps an inch short of six -feet and must weigh two hundred pounds Terran. He had a loose mouth -between pudgy cheeks. His little blue eyes seemed always to be prying -except during periods such as the present when he was feeling sorry for -himself. He had been a medic in the same spaceship in which Taranto had -been a ventilation mechanic. - -"Glad I was never sick," Taranto muttered to himself. - -Meyers looked up. - -"Huh?" - -"I said I'm glad I was never sick," repeated Taranto deliberately, -thinking, _Let him figure that out if he can!_ - -"This heat's enough to make anybody sick," complained Meyers. "Why do -they have to keep us up on the top floor of the tower, anyway?" - -"You expect a luxury suite in the cellar? What kind of jail were you -ever in where the prisoners got the best?" - -"Who says I was ever in jail?" demanded Meyers defensively. - -Taranto grinned slightly, but made no reply. After a moment, the -other returned to his study of the table. He breathed in loudly, his -shoulders heaving as if he had been running. To avoid the sight, -Taranto let his eyes wander for the thousandth time around the walls of -the square cell. - -The large blocks of baked clay were turning from dun to gray in the -twilight seeping through the four small window openings. Overhead, -they curved together to form a high arch that was the peak of the -tower. Besides table and bench, the room contained a clay water jug a -yard high, a wooden bucket, a battered copper cooking pot, and a pile -of coarse straw upon which lay the two gray shirts the spacers had -discarded in the heat. In the center of the floor was a wooden trap -door which Taranto eyed speculatively. - -He reminded himself that he must suppress his longing to smash the next -Syssokan head that appeared in the opening. - -"It's getting near time," he remarked after a few minutes. - -Meyers peered at the patches of sky revealed by the windows. They were -losing the glare of Syssokan daylight. There had been a wisp or two -of cloud earlier, but these had either blown over or faded into the -deepening gray of the sky. - -"Listen at the door!" ordered Taranto, impatient at having to remind -the other. - -He rose, wiped perspiration from his face with the palms of both hands, -and rubbed them in turn on the thighs of his gray pants. He was inches -shorter than Meyers, and twenty pounds or more lighter, but his bare -shoulders bulged powerfully. A little fat softened the lines of his -belly without concealing the existence of an underlying layer of solid -muscle. He moved with a heavy, padding gait, like a large carnivore -whose natural grace is revealed only at top speed. - -Meyers watched him resentfully. - -_Why couldn't I have made it to one of the other emergency rockets?_ he -asked himself. _Imagine a bunch of crazy savages that say even landing -here is a crime!_ - -He supposed that Taranto would have pointed to the sizable city where -they were held if he had heard the Syssokans called savages. Meyers -thought the trouble with Taranto was that he was too physical, too -much of a dumb flunky who spoiled Meyers' efforts to talk them out of -trouble. - -_I had a better break coming_, he thought. - -He wished he had been in a rocket with one of the ship's officers who -might have known about Syssoka. They would have gone into an orbit -about the planet's star and put out a call for help to the nearest -Terran base or ship. As it was, they might be given up for lost even if -the other rockets were picked up. The course they had been on before -the explosion had been designed to pass this system by a good margin. - -Taranto, he recalled, had thought them lucky to have picked up the -planet on the little escape ship's instruments. Taranto, decided -Meyers, thought he was a hot pilot because he had been a few years in -space. He had not looked so good bending the rocket across that ridge -of rock out in the desert. They should have taken a chance on coming -down in the city here. - -They had just about straightened themselves out after that landing -when they had seen the party of Syssokans on the way. It had not taken -them long to reach the wreck. They could even speak Terran, and no -pidgin-Terran either. Then it turned out that they did not like spacers -of any race landing without permission. There had been a war with the -next star system; and the laws now said there should be only one alien -of any race permitted to reside on Syssoka except for brief visits by -licensed spaceships. - -"What's the matter with our government?" muttered Meyers. - -"What?" asked Taranto, turning from one of the windows. - -"I said what's the matter with the Terran Government? Why don't they -pitch a couple of bombs down here, an' show these skinny nuts who's -running the galaxy? Who are they to call us aliens?" - -Taranto turned again to the eighteen inch square window, set like the -other three in the center of its wall at the level of his shoulders. - -"They're posting their sentries on the city wall for the night," he -told Meyers. "The thing should be flying in here any time now." - -"_If_ it comes," said Meyers grumpily. "Something will go wrong with -that too." - -The other spat out the window that faced the main part of the Syssokan -city, then padded to the one opposite. Strange patterns of stars -gleamed already in the sky over the desert. The air that blew against -his damp face was a trifle cooler. - -_Should I tell the slob about that?_ he wondered. _Naw--he'd try to -breathe it all! Let him sweat, as long as he listens for the Syssokans!_ - -Meyers had left his bench to crouch over the trap door. There was -no reason to expect their jailers, but the Syssokans had a habit of -popping up at odd times. The evening meal was usually brought well -after dark, however. - -"Do you think it will really get here again?" asked Meyers. "What if -they spot it?" - -Taranto grunted. He was watching something he thought was one of the -flying insects that thickened the Syssokan twilight. Seconds later, he -ducked away from the window as a pencil-sized thing with two pairs of -flailing wings darted through the opening. - -It whirled about the dim cell. Meyers flapped his hands about his head. -The third time around, the insect passed within Taranto's reach; and he -batted it out of the air with a feline sweep of his left hand. It fell -against the base of the wall and twitched for a few minutes. - -Meyers squinted at him, examining the slightly flattened nose and the -meaty cheeks that gave Taranto a deceptively plump look. - -"You're quick, all right," he admitted. "They used to say in the ship -that you were a boxer. What made you a spacer?" - -"Too short," said Taranto laconically. "Five-eight, an' I grew into a -light-heavy." - -"What did that have to do with it?" - -"I did all right for a while. When I could get in on them, they'd go -down an' stay down. Then they learned to stick an' run on me. It was -either grow a longer arm or quit." - -"Maybe you should have quit sooner," said Meyers, for no good reason -except that he resented Taranto and blamed him for their predicament. - -"Why should I?" asked Taranto, with a cold stare. "It was good money. -Even after having my eyebrows fixed, I got a nice nest-egg back on -Terra. Nothing really shows on me except the habit of a short haircut." - -Meyers ran his fingers through his own unkempt hair. - -"What was that for?" he asked. - -"Oh ... it don't wave in the air so much when you stop a jab. Looks -better, to the judges." - -Meyers grunted. _He'd like to believe it doesn't show on him!_ he -thought. - -Suddenly, he bent down to place an ear against the trap door. A -petulant grimace twisted his features. - -"They're on the ladder," he whispered. "Wouldn't you know?" - -He straightened up and walked softly back to his bench. Taranto -remained at the window. It was a perfectly natural place for him to be, -he decided. - -A few moments later, the trap door creaked up, letting yellow light -burst into the cell. It came from a clumsy electric lantern in -the grip of the first Syssokan who climbed into the chamber. Two -others followed, suggestively fingering pistols that would have been -considered crude on Terra two centuries earlier. - -The individual with the light was typical of his race, a tall, -cadaverous humanoid with pale, greenish-gray skin made up of tiny -scales. His nose was flatter than that of a Terran ape, and his chin -consisted mostly of a hanging fold of scaly skin. His ears were set -very low on a narrow, pointed skull. Occasionally, they made small -motions as if to fold in upon themselves. - -The Syssokans were clad in garments not unlike loose, sleeveless -pajamas, over which they wore leather harness for their weapons. The -leader's suit was red, but the other two wore a dull brown. - -"Iss all ssatissfactory?" asked the one in charge, staring about the -cell with large, black eyes. - -"All right," said Taranto stonily. - -He thought that a Syssokan would never have answered that way. They -were vain of their extraordinary linguistic ability, and commonly spoke -three or four alien tongues. Only an unfortunate inability to control -excessive sibilance marred their Terran. Taranto felt like wiping his -face, but realized that it was only sweat. - -The Syssokan prowled around the room, examining each of the simple -furnishings with a flickering glance. He took note of the food left in -the copper pot. He checked the level of water in the big jar. He found -the dead insect, which he sniffed and slipped into a pouch at his belt. -When he passed Taranto, the latter eyed him in measuring fashion. - -The Syssokan halted out of reach. - -"You have been warned to obey all orderss here," he said, staring -between the two Terrans. - -"What's the trouble now?" demanded Meyers when it became apparent that -the poker-faced Taranto intended to say nothing. - -"There wass a quesstion by the Terran we allow on the world. How can he -know of your complaints? He was told only or your ssentence." - -"We told you there would be protests from our government," said -Meyers. "All we did was land on your planet in an emergency: We're only -too willing to leave. You have no right to keep us locked up in these -conditions." - -"It iss a violation of our law," said the Syssokan imperturbably. "You -go automatically to jail. We permit only one of every sky people to -live here. Who could tell yours that you complain of thiss place?" - -"Listen, you better be careful of us Terrans!" blustered Meyers. "We -have ways--" - -"Shut up!" said Taranto without raising his voice. - -He had inched forward, but stopped now as the two guards at the trap -door gave him their attention. - -The Syssokan with the lantern also turned to him. Taranto looked over -the latter's shoulder. The window was black; the twilight of Syssoka -was brief. - -Meyers had flushed and was scowling at him with out-thrust lower lip, -but Taranto's icy order had spilled the wind from his sails. - -"Perhapss you have had too much water," suggested the Syssokan, -regarding Taranto with interest. "If you have done ssomething, it iss -besst to tell me." - -Taranto returned the stare. He wondered why all the Syssokans he had -seen, though rather fragile in build, were relatively thick-waisted. -They looked to him as if a couple of solid hooks to the body would find -a soft target. - -It was unlikely that the Syssokan could read the facial expression of -an alien Terran. It was probably some tenseness in Taranto's stance -that caused the native to step back. - -The Terran strained his ears to pick up any unusual noise outside the -window during the pause. He heard nothing except the whir of night -insects. - -Their jailer paced once more around the cell, and Taranto cursed -himself for arousing suspicion. Perhaps, he hoped, it was only -annoyance. - -_But what could I do?_ he asked himself. _Let Meyers spill it?_ - -In the end, with Taranto answering in monosyllables and Meyers -intimidated into an unnatural reserve, the Syssokans retired. The -darkness closed in upon the Terrans as they listened to the creaking of -the ladder below the trap door. - -"Give them time," advised Taranto, hearing Meyers move toward the exit. - -They waited in the silent dark until Meyers could stand it no longer. - -"They won't come back," he whispered. - -"Well, make sure," said Taranto shortly. "Get your ear to the wood!" - -He felt his way to the window that faced away from the city. After the -heat of the day, the air blowing in was almost cold; and he considered -putting on his shirt. The realization that he would have to scrabble -around the pile of straw for it gave him pause. His next thought was -that he might come up with the wrong shirt, and that discouraged him -completely. - -His eyes had adjusted enough to the night to pick out the low hills of -the desert where they broke the line of the horizon. Starlight glinted -softly where there were stretches of sand. He settled down to wait, his -arms folded upon the ledge of the window. - -It was nearly half an hour later, when he suspected Meyers of dozing -on the trap door, that Taranto heard something more than an insect zip -past the window. He backed away and hissed to attract Meyers' attention. - -"Did it come?" whispered the other. - -"I think so," answered Taranto. - -A tiny hum drifted through the window. Into the opening, timidly, edged -a small, hovering shape. - -"Okay," said Taranto in a low voice, even though he knew the room was -being scanned by an infra-red detector. - -The shape blossomed out with a midget light. Enough of the glow was -reflected from the adobe walls to reveal that a miniature flying -mechanism the size of a man's hand had landed on the window ledge. -After a moment, its rotors ceased their whirring. Taranto jabbed -backward with an elbow as he heard Meyers creep up behind him. - -"Listen at the door, dammit!" he snarled. "All we need is to get caught -at this, an' we'll be here till they turn out the sun!" - -"Taranto!" piped a tiny voice from the machine. "Are you ready, -Taranto?" - -"Go ahead!" - -"Two pills coming out of the hold." The voice was clear enough in the -stillness of the Syssokan night. - -A hatch in the belly of the little flyer slid back. Two capsules -spilled out on the window ledge. Taranto scooped them up. - -"You each take one, with water," instructed the voice. "Better wait -till just before dawn. You told me they bring your food an hour later." - -"That's right," whispered Taranto. - -"That will give the stuff time to act. For all they can tell, you will -both be deader than a burned-out meteorite." - -"Then what?" - -"So they will follow their normal custom with the dead--take you out -to the desert to mummify. This thing will hover overhead to spot the -location." - -"Do they just ... leave us?" - -"Yes, as far as anybody has ever been able to find out. I talked to the -Capellan next door in the foreign quarter here, and he says they might -not leave you in one of their own burial grounds. Otherwise, I would -hate to take the chance of having this gadget seen in the daylight." - -"All right, so we're out in the desert," said Taranto. "How does this -ship you arranged for pick us up? We'll still be out for the count." - -"I plan to tell them where to touch down. I can talk louder by radio, -you know, than I can to you now. They will grab your 'bodies' and -scramble for space. Against the sunset, they may not even be seen from -the city. If they are, I never heard of them." - -"Who are they?" asked Taranto. - -"Some bunch hired for the job by the D.I.R.'s Department 99. Just as -well not to ask where they come from or what their usual line is." - -"I ain't got any questions at all, if they get us out of here," said -Taranto. - -He watched as the hatch closed itself and the tiny light blinked out. -The rotors began to spin, and two minutes later they were alone. - -"Come and get yours," said the spacer. - -He reached out with his empty hand to guide Meyers to him, then very -carefully delivered one of the capsules to the other. - -"We're supposed to swallow that big lump?" whispered Meyers. - -"Just don't lose it," admonished Taranto. - -He relayed the instructions as precisely as he could. - -"One thing more," he concluded. "You stay awake to make sure I stay -awake until it's time to take the stuff." - -"We could take watches," suggested Meyers. - -"_I_ could," said Taranto bluntly, "but I'm not sure about you. In the -second place, I ain't going to have you sleep while I don't. We're -going to play this as safe as possible." - -Meyers grumbled something inaudibly. In the darkness, a sardonic smile -twisted Taranto's lips. - -"If you know how," he advised, "pray! We're goin' to our funeral in the -morning." - - - - -FOUR - - -Westervelt sat at his little desk in the corner, doodling out possible -ways and means of breaking out of a cell thirty fathoms or so under -water. From time to time Beryl or Simonetta offered a suggestion. He -knew that everyone in the office was probably engaged in the same -puzzle. Smith believed in general brain-storming in getting a project -started, since no one could tell where a good idea might not originate. - -"If I ever get into space," Willie muttered, "it will never be to a -planet as wet as Trident. What ever made this Harris think he was a -pearl diver?" - -"Is that what he was after?" asked Beryl. - -"No, I just made that up." - -He glanced over at Simonetta, who winked and continued with the letter -she was transcribing. An earphone reproduced Smith's dictation from -his tape. As she listened, she edited mentally and spoke into the -microphone of her typing machine, which transcribed her words as type. -Westervelt realized that it was more difficult than it seemed to do -the job so smoothly. He had noticed Beryl rewriting letters two or -three times, and Parrish was more likely than the boss to set down his -thoughts in a logical order. - -"I've heard so many wild ideas in this office," said Beryl, "that I -simply don't know where to start. How do they decide on a good way?" - -"They guess, just the way we've been doing. They're better guessers -than we are, from experience." - -"It's just a matter of judgment, I suppose," Beryl admitted. - -"They make their share of mistakes," Simonetta put in. - -"Yeah, I read an old report on a great one," said Westervelt. "Ever -hear of the time they were shipping oxygen tanks to three spacers -jailed out around Mizar?" - -Simonetta stopped talking her letter, and the girls gave Willie their -attention. - -"It seems," he continued, "that an exploring ship landed on a planet of -that star and found a kind of civilization they hadn't bargained for. -The natives breathed air with a high chlorine content; so when they -grabbed three of the crew for hostages, the ship had to keep supplying -fresh tanks of oxygen." - -"How long could they keep that up?" asked Beryl. - -"Not indefinitely, anyway. They weren't recovering any carbon dioxide -for processing, the way they would in the ship. The captain figured -he'd better lift and orbit while he tried to negotiate. Meanwhile, he -sent to the Department for help, and they came up with a poor guess." - -"What?" - -"They got the captain to disguise some spacesuit rockets as oxygen -tanks and send them down by the auxiliary rocket they were using to -make deliveries and keep contact. The idea was that the prisoners would -fly themselves over the walls like angels, the rocket would snatch them -up, and they'd all filter the green-white light of Mizar from their -lenses forever." - -"And why didn't it work?" - -"Oh, it worked," said Westervelt. "It worked beautifully. The only -trouble was that when they got these three guys aboard and were picking -up stellar speed, they found that the Mizarians had pulled a little -sleight of hand. They'd stuck three of their own into the Terran -spacesuits--pretty cramped, but able to move--and sent them to spy out -the ship. Well, the captain took one look and realized it was all over. -He couldn't supply the Mizarians with enough chlorine to keep them -alive until they could be sent back. He just kept going." - -"But the men they left behind!" exclaimed Beryl. "What happened to -them?" - -Westervelt shrugged. - -"They never exactly found out." - -Beryl, horrified, turned to Simonetta, who stared reflectively at the -wall. - -"For all we know," said the dark girl, "they were dead already." - -"It was about even," said Westervelt. "The Mizarians never heard -exactly what happened to theirs either." - -There was a period of silence while they considered that angle. -Simonetta finally said, "Why don't you tell her about the time they -gave that spacer the hormone treatment for a disguise?" - -"Oh ... you tell it," said Westervelt, trapped. "You know it better -than I do." - -"That one," began Simonetta, "happened on a world where there's a -colony from Terra that isn't much talked about. It's a sort of Amazon -culture, and they don't allow men. They were set to execute this fellow -who smuggled himself in for a lark, when the Department started -shipping him drugs that changed his appearance." - -Westervelt admired Beryl's wide-eyed intentness. - -"Finally," Simonetta continued, "his appearance changed so much that -he could dress up and pass for a woman anywhere. He just walked out -when the next scheduled spaceship landed, and was halfway back to Terra -before they finished searching the woods for him. It made trouble, -though." - -"What happened?" breathed Beryl. - -"They never quite succeeded in changing him back. His wife wound up -divorcing him for infidelity when he gave birth to twins." - -Beryl straightened up abruptly. - -"Oh...! You--come on, now!" - -Westervelt reminded himself that the blush must have resulted less -from the joke than from having been taken in. They were still laughing -when a buzzer sounded at Beryl's desk phone. She flipped the switch, -listened for a moment, then rose with a toss of her blonde head at -Westervelt. - -"Mr. Parrish wants me to help him research in the dead files," she -said. "I bet _he_ won't try that kind of gag on me!" - -"No," muttered Westervelt as she strode out, "he has some all his own." - -He looked up to find Simonetta watching him with a grin. She shook her -head ruefully as Westervelt grew a flush to match Beryl's. - -"Willie, Willie!" she said sadly. "You aren't letting that bottle -blonde bother you? I didn't think you were that kind of boy!" - -Westervelt grinned back, at some cost. - -"Is there another kind?" he asked. "After, all, Si, she's only been -around a few weeks. It's the novelty. I'll get used to her." - -"_Sure_ you will," said Simonetta. - -She returned to her letters, and Westervelt hunched over his desk -to brood. He wondered what Parrish and Beryl were up to in the file -room. He could think of no innocent reason to wander in on business of -his own. Perhaps, he reflected, he did not really want to; he might -overhear something he would regret. - -He passed some time without directing a single thought to the problems -of the Department. Then the door beyond Simonetta opened and Smith -strolled out. He carried a pad as if he, too, had been doodling. - -"Well, Willie," he said cheerfully, "what are we going to do about this -Harris fellow?" - -"All I can think of, Mr. Smith, is to offer to trade them a few people -we could do without," said Westervelt. - -Smith grinned. He seemed to be willing to make up a little list. - -"Some who never would be missed, eh? And let's head the page with -people who take messages from thinking fish!" - -He pottered about for a few moments before winding up seated on a -corner of the unoccupied secretarial desk. - -"I was actually thinking of skin divers," he confided. "Then I realized -that if it takes a twenty foot monster to wander the undersea wilds of -Trident without being intimidated, maybe those waters wouldn't be too -safe for Terran swimmers." - -"Unless they could get one of the monsters for a guide," suggested -Westervelt. - -The three of them pondered that possibility. - -"I can see it now," said Simonetta. "My name Swishy. Me good guide. You -want find pearl? Not allowed here; we no steal from other fish!" - -They laughed, and Smith demanded to know how one _thought_ in pidgin -talk. They discussed the probability of fraud in the reports that Smith -had received, and concluded reluctantly that, whether or not some trick -might be involved, there was bound to be some truth in the story. - -"I suppose we'll have to use this fishy network to locate him," sighed -Smith at last. "It would take too long to ship out parts of a small sub -to be assembled on Trident. The whole thing makes me wonder if I'll -ever eat another seafood dinner!" - -"Maybe somebody else will think of something," said Westervelt, partly -to conceal the fact that he himself had come up with nothing. - -"Tell you what," said Smith, nodding. "Suppose you go along and see how -Bob Lydman is making out, while I sign these letters. You might check -at the com room sometime, too, in case anything else on the case comes -in." - -Westervelt agreed, made sure he had something in his pocket to write -upon should the need arise, and left. - -A few minutes later, he reached the end of the corridor, having cocked -an ear at the door of the old file office as he passed and heard Beryl -giggling at some remark by Parrish. He unclenched his teeth and knocked -on Lydman's door. - -He waited a minute and tried again, but there was still no answer. - -He hesitated, wondering what would happen should he walk in and find -that Lydman was physically present but not in a mood to recognize any -one else's existence. Slowly, he walked back to the washroom on the -opposite side of the hall. - -Washing his hands with deliberation, Westervelt decided that it might -be best to get Lydman on the phone. He could not, in fact, understand -why inside phone calls were not more popular in the office. He supposed -that the face-to-face habit had grown up among the staff, probably -reflecting Smith's preference for getting everyone personally involved -in everything. There might even be a deeper cause--they were so often -in contact with distant places by the tenuous beaming of interstellar -signals that there must be a certain reassurance and sense of security -in having within physical reach the person to whom one was speaking. - -"I'll have to watch for that if I stay here long enough," Westervelt -told himself. "You don't have to be a prizefighter to get punchy, I -guess." - -He examined himself critically in the mirror over the sink, thinking -that he could do with a neater appearance. A coin in the slot of a -dispenser on the wall bought him a disposable paper comb with which he -smoothed down his dark hair. - -_I need a haircut almost as bad as Castor P._ he thought. _I wonder if -that really stands for Pollux? What a thing for parents to do! On the -other hand, from people that came up with one like him, you'd expect -almost anything!_ - -No one came in while he was in the washroom, much as he would have -welcomed an excuse for conversation. He dawdled his way through the -door into the corridor, not liking the thought of inflicting his -presence upon Beryl and Parrish. That meant he would have to walk back -as far as the spare conference room to find a phone. - -"Of course, there's the lab," he muttered. - -That was only a few steps away, and he could hardly do much damage -between the door and the phone. - -Reaching the end of the corridor once more, he decided to make one last -try at Lydman's door. Again, there was no reply to his knock, so he -turned away to the laboratory door and entered. - -He was faced by a vista of tables, workbenches with power tools, and -diverse assemblies of testing apparatus, most of the latter dusty and -presenting the appearance of gold-bergs knocked together for temporary -use and then shoved aside until someone might need a part from one -of them. By far the greater space, however, was occupied by shelves -and crates and stacks of small cartons or loosely wrapped packages -in which various gadgets seemed to be stored after plans of them had -been transmitted to the field. Half a dozen large files for drawings -and blueprints reached nearly to the ceiling. Racks of instruments in -relatively recent use or consideration stood here and there among the -tables and workbenches. - -To Westervelt's right, near the far wall behind which lay the -communications room, he caught sight of a prowling figure. He -recognized Lydman's broad shoulders and hesitated. - -The ex-spacer had paused to examine a gadget lying on one of the -tables. From Westervelt's position, it appeared to be a wristwatch or -something similar. Lydman picked it up and turned toward a part of -the wall where a thick steel plate had been fastened to an insulated -partition of brick. He raised the "watch" to eye level, as if aiming. - -A thin pencil of white flame leaped from the instrument to spatter -sparks against the already scarred and stained steel. Sucked up by -the air-conditioning, the small puff of smoke disappeared so quickly -that Westervelt realized that the scorched odor was entirely in his -imagination. - -Lydman replaced the instrument casually before strolling over to -another table. He inspected an open pack of cigarettes with a grim -smile, but let them lie there in plain sight. Westervelt reminded -himself never to grub one of those, just on general principles. Lydman -went on to a small cylinder somewhat larger than an old-fashioned -battery flashlight. Something clicked under his finger, and from one -end of the cylinder emerged the folding blades of a portable fan. The -ex-spacer pressed a second switch position to start them spinning. He -turned the fan to blow across his face, as if to check its cooling -power, then held the thing at arm's length as he thumbed the switch to -a third position. - -A low, humming sound reached Westervelt. It rose rapidly in pitch until -it passed beyond his hearing range. He shook his head slightly. For -some reason, he found it difficult to concentrate. Perhaps Lydman's -presence, unexpected as it was, had upset him, he thought. He decided -that he must be getting a dizzy spell of some sort. Then he became -concerned lest he turn nauseous. - -The final stage, hardly a minute after Lydman had last moved the -switch, found Westervelt tensing as a wave of sheer panic swept over -him. - -He stepped back toward the door, noticing dizzily that Lydman wore a -strange expression too. Part of the youth's mind wondered if some of -the ultra-sonic effect were reflected from the walls to the ex-spacer; -another part insisted upon leaving the scene as hastily as possible. - -He got himself into the corridor again, actually panting as he eased -the door closed behind him. He started to walk, finding his knees -a trifle loose. Passing the washroom, he hesitated; but he decided -that he could make it to the conference room. Once there, however, he -slipped inside and sat down to recover. - -"What does it take to have a mind like that?" he whispered to, himself. -"It's like a hobby to him. I think some day I ought to look for a job -with reasonably normal people!" - -A few minutes of peace and quiet refreshed him. He returned to the main -office, just as Smith was surrendering a stack of signed letters to -Simonetta Diorio. They looked around as he entered. - -"Well, Willie, did he have anything going?" asked Smith. - -"I ... uh ... he was kind of busy," said Westervelt. - -"What did he seem to have in mind?" Smith started to reach for -Simonetta's phone switch. - -"He ... that is ... I didn't ask him. He was ... busy, in the lab." - -"Oh," said Smith. - -He peered at Westervelt's expression, and added, "Then ... perhaps we'd -better not disturb him. It might spoil any ideas he's putting together." - -Westervelt managed a grunt of assent as he turned to walk back to his -desk. - -_Whatever he's putting together_, he thought, _I'd rather stay out of -the way._ - -He hunched over his desk, staring unseeingly at the notes he had -scribbled earlier. He was vaguely conscious of the cessation of talk in -the background, but he did not notice Simonetta's approach until the -girl stood beside him. - -"What happened, Willie?" she asked. "You look as if he threw you out." - -"No. Not deliberately, anyhow," said Westervelt. "At least, I don't -_think_ he knew I was even there--although how can you tell if he -doesn't want to let on?" - -He told her what had happened in the laboratory. She nodded -thoughtfully. - -"I suppose it has its uses," said Westervelt. "I hate to think of the -way he plays around with things in there. Wasn't there a time when -someone killed himself in that lab?" - -"That was years ago," said Simonetta. - -She hugged herself as if feeling a sudden chill, her large, soft eyes -serious. Westervelt realized that she was actually a very beautiful -girl, much more so than Beryl, and he wondered why he felt so -differently about them. Simonetta seemed too nice to fit the ideas he -got concerning Beryl. Something told him that his thinking was mixed up. - -_I guess you just grow out of that_, he reflected silently. _Maybe -they're the same under the skin._ - - - - -FIVE - - -When Beryl walked in, Westervelt was at one of the tall windows with -Simonetta, dialing filter combinations to make the most of the setting -sun. They had the edge of it showing as a deep crimson ball beside -another building in the vicinity. - -"What are you two doping out?" asked the blonde. "Some disappearing -trick?" - -Simonetta laughed as Westervelt shoved the dial setting to afternoon -normal. - -"It's an idea," he said, scowling at Beryl. - -"For underwater?" she demanded mockingly. - -"Ever hear of a squid?" retorted Westervelt. "_They_ hide themselves -underwater. Maybe a cloud of dye would be as good as a filter." - -"Willie, that _is_ an idea!" said Simonetta. "You ought to tell Mr. -Smith." - -Westervelt looked at her sourly. Now Beryl knew that they really had -been wasting time, and had a point to score against him in their next -exchange. - -_Oh, well. I can't hold a thing like that against Si_, he thought. _I -can think of people who'd be on the way to Smitty already, calling it -their own idea._ - -Beryl had done a ladylike collapse into her chair and crossed her legs. -She dug into her purse for cigarettes and requested a light. - -"Why don't you buy a brand with a lighter in the box?" asked Westervelt. - -Nevertheless, he walked over to the switchboard cubicle for the office -desk lighter that had been appropriated by Pauline. Returning with it -after a moment, he lit Beryl's cigarette and inquired, "Well, what did -you and Parrish dig up?" - -"I don't know," she sighed, leaning back, "but, boy, did we dig!" - -"Yeah, I thought I heard the shovel clink once," said Westervelt, -thinking of the laughter he had heard through the door of the dead file -office. - -Beryl, concerned with her own complaints, ignored him. - -"We must have looked up thirty or forty cases," she went on. "I never -even heard of most of those places on the newscasts!" - -"Did he find anything that gave him an idea?" asked Simonetta. - -"Not a thing! There seemed to be some real crazy spots in the records, -but nobody ever got in jail at the bottom of an ocean." - -"You'd think it would have happened sometime," said Simonetta -thoughtfully. - -"I suppose," suggested Westervelt, "that on any planet where Terrans -were taken underwater, they didn't live long enough to be one of our -cases. On a place like Trident, they usually wouldn't have any trouble. -They'd stay on land, and any local life would stay in the sea. It took -a nut like Harris to go poking around where he wasn't wanted." - -"That's what Mr. Parrish hinted," said Beryl. "All I know is that it -sounds like a story out of a laughing academy. They shouldn't allow -them to get into places like that." - -"Then we'd all be looking for work," said Westervelt. "Don't complain, -Beryl--maybe it will happen to you someday." - -The blonde shivered and turned to face her desk. - -"Not me," she declared. "I'm staying on Terra, even if they do offer me -a field trip as a sort of vacation." - -_Ah, he's already started that line on her, thought Westervelt. I -wonder if there's anything in the files on how to spring a secretary -from a penthouse?_ - -Lydman and Parrish walked in, the latter pausing to exchange remarks -with Pauline, the switchboard operator. A moment later, Smith opened -his door as if expecting someone. He must have phoned them for a -change, Westervelt realized. - -"Oh, there you are, Willie," said the chief. "I suppose you might as -well sit in on this too. We might need something, and meanwhile, you -can be picking up a tip or two." - -Westervelt rose and followed the others into Smith's office, where he -took a chair by the window. The others clustered around the chief's -desk, a vast plateau of silvery plastic strewn with a hodge-podge of -papers and tapes. - -The office itself was like a small museum. The walls were lined with -photographs, mostly of poor quality but showing "interesting" devices -that had been used in various department cases. The ones in which the -color was better usually showed Smith in company with two or three -men wearing space uniforms and self-conscious looks. Sometimes, a more -assured individual was shown in the act of presenting some sort of -memento or letter of appreciation to Smith. Lydman and Parrish also -appeared in several of the pictures. - -_The record of our best cases_, thought Westervelt. _The bad ones are -buried in the files._ - -Standing along the walls, or on little tables and bases of their -own, were a good many models of spaceships, planetary systems, and -non-humanoid beings. A few of the latter statues were enough to have -made Beryl declare she was perfectly happy to stay out of Smith's -office and be someone else's secretary. One model, which Westervelt -secretly longed to examine at leisure, showed an entire city with its -surrounding landscape on a distant planet. - -Westervelt tore his attention from the mementoes and turned toward the -group as Smith settled himself behind the desk. - -"This is no longer even approximately funny," said the department head. -"I've had a few calls put through. Do you know how little we're going -to have to work with?" - -"I gather that it is not very much," said Parrish calmly. - -"There are less than fifty Terrans on that whole planet!" declared -Smith, running the fingers of one hand through his already untidy hair. -"The nearest colony or friendly spaceport from which we could have -equipment sent in is twenty odd lightyears away." - -"Well, that could be done," said Lydman mildly. - -"Oh, of course, it could be done," admitted Smith. "But how long do -we have to fool around? We don't know under what conditions Harris is -being held." - -Parrish leaned forward to rest his elbows on Smith's desk. - -"We can deduce some of them pretty well," he suggested. "In the first -place, if he got out several messages--which we'll have to assume he -did--they must have found some means of providing him with air." - -"He could have lived a while on the air in this submarine he built," -said Lydman. - -"Yes, but in that case, he would have used its radio for communication. -We have to assume that they pried him out somehow, no?" - -The others nodded. - -"He wouldn't last too long in a spacesuit, even if they pumped in air -under pressure," said Lydman judiciously. - -"So they must have built some kind of structure to house him, if only a -big tank," said Parrish. - -Westervelt stirred, then closed his mouth rather than interrupt. -Smith, however, had seen the motion and looked up. - -"Speak up, Willie," he invited. "It won't sound any sillier than -anything else that's been said in this room." - -"I ... I was wondering about these Tridentians," said Westervelt. -"Does anybody know how they live? Do they have cities built on the sea -bottom?" - -"If they have water jet vehicles, they certainly have the technical--" - -Smith stopped as he saw Parrish lean back and roll his eyes toward the -ceiling. - -"What now, Pete?" he demanded apprehensively. - -"I don't know why that didn't occur to me sooner," groaned Parrish. "A -hundred to one they have a nomadic set-up. It would be typical, with an -environment like that. This is worse than we thought." - -"You mean," muttered Smith after a few moments of silence, "how can we -get a direction fix on a thought?" - -"Something like that," said Parrish. "I suppose they have bases, where -they keep permanent manufacturing facilities. Probably set up at points -where they have access to minerals--unless they know how to extract -what they need from the water itself." - -"Nothing hard about that," agreed Smith. "I'll have to send out a few -more questions. Of course, they'll take the attitude that I should be -doing something instead of asking about irrelevant subjects...." - -"We're used to that," smiled Parrish, showing his beautiful teeth. - -Westervelt wondered how broadly he would smile if it were his own -responsibility. He had an idea that Parrish might be rather less than -half as charming if he were running the operation and not getting much -help from the others in solving the problem. He had to admit, however, -that the man had a knack for spotting alien culture patterns. When he -had asked his question about the cities, it was merely because he had -half-pictured some Terran-style dome underwater and knew that that -image was unlikely. - -"Anyway," Parrish was going on, "we should probably think of them as -being free as birds to go where they like. Even before they developed -machines, they probably migrated about their world by swimming. I -gather that these other ... fish, I suppose we'll have to call them...." - -"Thinking fish!" murmured Smith sadly. He ran his hand through his hair -again. - -"I suppose those things still do, besides other types we still haven't -heard of, which would fill the place of Terran animals. So, then--we'll -have to look for temporary locations and think in terms of a fast raid -rather than a careful penetration." - -"If we could find them, there must be some way we could armor a few -spacesuits against pressure and drop down on them," said Lydman. "I -think I can dig up a weapon or two that will work underwater in a way -these clams never thought of." - -"Maybe we could do better to have Swishy the thinking fish hypnotize -them into bringing Harris back," said Westervelt. - -They looked at him thoughtfully, and he was horrified to see his joke -being taken seriously. He squirmed in his chair by the window, wishing -he had kept his mouth shut. - -"I wonder ..." mused Smith. "If they can actually exchange thoughts...." - -"They might have natural defenses," said Parrish tentatively. - -"What could we bribe a fish with?" asked Lydman, but hopefully rather -than derisively. - -Smith made another note, then drummed his fingers on his desk top. The -four of them sat in silence. Westervelt hoped that the others were -engaged in more productive thoughts than his own. It was nice to have -their attention, and get the reputation of a bright young man who came -up with suggestions; but when they decided upon some reasonable course -of action they might remember him for making a foolish remark. - -"Willie," said Smith, coming to a decision, "circulate around and ask -the others if they can stick it out a couple of hours tonight. Maybe -there's time to pry some useful information out of Trident, and at -least get something started before we close down. If I know some guy -out in space is working on it, I can sleep anyway." - -Westervelt left his place by the window and went into the outer office. -He told Simonetta and Beryl. The latter acted less than thrilled. -Westervelt wondered jealously what kind of date she had scheduled for -the evening. He stopped at the window of the switchboard cubbyhole. - -"Oh, it's you, Willie!" exclaimed Pauline. - -"Yeah, you can turn on the projector again," he grinned. "What is it, a -love movie?" - -Pauline edged a small tape projector out from behind the side of her -board. - -"It's homework, if you have to know," she told him. - -"That's right, you still go to college," Westervelt recalled. "Why -don't you switch to alien psychology? Then you could qualify for office -manager around here." - -"When do we have alien visitors here? Once in a ringed moon!" - -"Who is to say which are the aliens?" said Westervelt. "There are days -when I think I could feel more understanding to something with twelve -tentacles and a tank of chlorine than to a lot of the mentalities that -get loose right in this office. There's a crash program on for the -evening, by the way, and Smitty wants the staff to hang on a while." - -A look of dismay flashed over Pauline's youthful features. - -"I know; you have a class tonight," Westervelt deduced. "Chuck it all. -Stay in the file room with Mr. Parrish and you'll learn twice as much." - -Pauline offered to throw the projector at him, but laughed. Westervelt -told her that no one would miss her if she connected a few of the main -office phones to outside lines and hooked up the communications room -with Smith's desk. - -He left her wondering if she ought to stay anyhow, and headed for the -hall. Halfway along to the communications room, he heard the elevator -doors open and close. He stopped and looked back. - -Around the corner strolled one of the TV men, Joe Rosenkrantz. -Westervelt looked at his watch and realized that it was a shift change -for the communications personnel, who kept touch with the universe -twenty-four hours a day. - -_In case someone somewhere makes a dumb mistake like Harris_, -thought Westervelt. _They overdo it a little, I think. I suppose -it's the typical pride and joy of Terran technical culture to signal -halfway across the galaxy to fix something that might have been -cured beforehand when Harris was a little boy. I wonder what the -psychologists should have done about me to keep me out of a place like -this?_ - -"Hello, Willie," said Rosenkrantz, catching up. "Going to the com room?" - -Westervelt admitted as much, and gave the operator a brief outline of -the afternoon's developments. Rosenkrantz remained unperturbed. - -"Hope they don't get intoxicated with ingenuity, and insist on sending -messages all over," he grunted. "I was looking forward to a quiet night -shift." - -They went in to tell Colborn, who took it well. He pointed out to -Westervelt that he would in no case have been concerned with the -overtime operation. When he was relieved, he was relieved--period. - -"I forget this crazy place the minute the elevator door closes behind -me," he said grinning, having handed over to Rosenkrantz his log and a -few unofficial comments about traffic he had heard during recent hours. -"There are some who wait till they hit the street, but I believe in -a clean cut. I walk in, push 'Main Floor,' and everything else goes -blank." - -He went out the door, refusing to dignify their jeers by any defense, -and made for the elevators. By the time he reached the corner of the -hall, he had slipped into his topcoat. He pushed the button to call the -elevator. - -When it arrived, Colborn stepped inside and rode down to the -ninety-fifth floor. He switched to a public express elevator, which -picked up several other people before becoming an express at the -seventy-fifth floor. - -"Lived through it again," he muttered to a man next to him as they -reached the main floor. - -He joined the growing stream of office workers flowing through the -lobby of the building, taking for granted the kaleidoscopic play of -decorative lights on the translucent ceiling. He noticed them when they -suddenly went out. - -There was first silence, then a babble of voices until small emergency -lights went on. Someone spoke of a fuse blowing. Colborn looked -outside, and saw no street lights or illuminated signs. His first -thought was power for his set upstairs. - -"No, that's special," he told himself, "but I'd better call and see if -the elevators are working." - - - - -SIX - - -For a jail cell, the chamber was quite commodious. The walls were -of bare stone, like most of the buildings on Greenhaven which Maria -Ringstad had visited during her short period of sightseeing. She -thought that it must have entailed a great deal of extra labor to -provide such large rooms in a stone building, especially when the -materials had to be quarried by relatively primitive means. - -On Greenhaven, everything had evidently been done the hard way. She -had heard about that facet of the Greenie character before leaving the -ship, and she now wished that she had listened more carefully. It was -difficult to picture in her mind just how far away that spaceship was -by this time. - -That had been the worst, the feeling of having been abandoned. - -Meanwhile, having turned up her nose at the sewing chores they had -assigned to her but having nothing else to occupy her, she sat on the -edge of the austere wooden shelf that doubled as a bed and a bench. The -Greenie guard standing in the doorway looked as if he had expected to -find the sewing done. - -"Can't you understand, honey?" said Maria lightly. "You can cart that -basket of rags away. I have no intention of sticking my fingers with -those crude needles you people use." - -The Greenie was a short, sturdy young man, uniformed in the drabbest of -dun-colored clothing. A shirt with a high, tight collar starched like -cardboard held his chin at a dignified elevation. It also seemed to -keep his eyes wide open, Maria thought, unless that was his naturally -naive expression. - -"Did anyone ever tell you those hats would make good spittoons?" she -asked. - -"It is forbidden to speak vainly of any correction official," said the -young man stiffly. - -"Correction official!" echoed Maria. "Look, honey, don't kid with me! I -bet you're just a janitor here. If I thought you were a real official, -who might be cuddled into letting me out of this cage, I'd be a lot -more friendly." - -She gave him an amiable grin. It was not returned. - -The Greenie stood gripping the thick edge of the blank wooden door -until his knuckles whitened. He looked like a man who had just -discovered a worm in his apple. Half a worm, in fact. - -"Now, I may be pushing thirty-five," said Maria, "but I _know_ I don't -look _that_ bad. Actually, alongside your Greenie girls, I stack up -pretty well, don't you think? For one thing, I'm shorter than you are. -For another, I fill out my clothes and don't look like a skinny old -horse." - -"You ... you ... are not ... dressed as an honest woman," the guard got -out. - -Sitting on the edge of the wooden bunk, Maria crossed her knees--and -thought he would choke. She tugged slightly at the short skirt that had -attracted so many lowering stares when she had strolled down the main -street of First Haven. She was used to being among men, but this poor -soul was outside her experience. - -Maria Ringstad was aware of both her visual shortcomings and -attractions. After a month here, her hair was beginning to grow in -darker and less auburn. She was a trifle solid for her five-feet-four, -but that came of having a durable frame. Her face was squarish, with -a determined nose, and her hazel eyes looked green in some lights. On -the other hand, she had a nice smile, and she had spent much time in -places where few women went. She was used to being popular with the -opposite sex, even in face of competition from members of her own. In -the Greenie women, with their voluminous, drab dresses and hangdog -expressions devoid of the least make-up, she saw little competition. - -"Really," she said, "no one else would think of me as a criminal. I -just tried to buy a picture in that little shop. Then the heavens fell -in on me." - -"The heavens do not fall on Greenhaven," said the guard firmly. - -"Well, anyway, some very sour characters trumped up all sorts of -charges against me, and here I am. But I didn't _do_ anything!" - -"The attempt is equal to the deed!" - -Maria shook her head and sighed. She stood up and took a few steps -toward him. - -"You must keep your place," ordered the young man, with an undercurrent -of panic in his tone. "I have not come to debate justice with you. You -have sinned and you have been sentenced." - -_I bet he'd faint if I threw my arms around him_, thought Maria. - -"But what was the sin, honey?" she demanded. "You'd think I'd written a -bad article about Greenhaven for my syndicate. Honestly, I didn't even -have time to see the place." - -The young man released the edge of the door, but still looked worried. - -"Greenhaven was founded by colonists who sought liberty and were -willing to create a haven for it by the sweat of their brows," he -informed her. "Conditions were inhospitable. There were plagues to test -their faith and ungainly beasts to test their courage. What has been -built here has been built by a great communal struggle, and it is not -to be hazarded by the sinful attitudes of old Terra, and--you should -have paid the listed price." - -"But he wouldn't sell me one at that price when I offered it!" - -"Then he did not have one. You attempted to bribe him." - -"Well, it was just a friendly offer," said Maria, straightening her -skirt. "It didn't amount to anything." - -"On the contrary, it amounted to bribery, immorality, and economic -subversion. Procedures such as purchase and merchandising must be -strictly regulated for the good of the community. We cannot permit -chaos to intrude upon the peace of Greenhaven." - -"You know, honey," she remarked, studying him with her head cocked to -one side, "you talk like a book. A very old book." - -The guard rolled his eyes toward the hall. He relaxed for the first -time, in order to lean back and listen to something in the corridor. - -"I must caution you to cease addressing me as 'honey,'" he said in a -lower voice. "I hear the steps of my superior." - -Maria laughed, a silvery ripple that made the young man grit his teeth. - -"Maybe he's jealous," she suggested. "Or bored. What do you fellows -have to do, anyway, except go around handing out cell work and picking -it up?" - -"There is no place on Greenhaven for idle hands," said the young man, -eyeing the untouched sewing with disapproval. - -"Isn't there ever any excitement? How often does someone try to escape?" - -"It is forbidden to escape," said the guard soberly. He looked as if he -wished that he himself could escape. - -Heavy steps halted outside the door of the cell to signal the arrival -of the chief warden. The latter turned a severely inquiring stare upon -the young man, who hastily stepped aside to admit his chief. - -"Have you been conversing with the prisoner?" asked the older man. - -He was clad in a similar uniform with, perhaps, a slightly higher -collar. His dark-browed features reflected greater age and asceticism. -Otherwise, Maria thought ruefully, there was little to choose between -them. He seemed to have a chilling effect upon the guard. - -"Only in the line of duty, sir," the young man responded. - -The warden spotted the basket of undone work. He frowned. - -"This should have been attended to long ago," he said. "What excuse can -there be?" - -Maria planted both hands on her hips. - -"Plenty!" she announced. "In the first place, you have no right to hold -a Terran citizen in a hole like this. In the second, that ridiculous -five year sentence is going to be appealed and cancelled as soon as the -Terran consul gets things moving." - -"That is at least doubtful," retorted the warden, favoring her with -a wintry smile which raised the corners of his mouth an eighth of an -inch. "Meanwhile, there are methods we can use to enforce obedience. -Would you rather I summon some of the women of the staff?" - -"I'd rather you'd explain to me what was so awful about trying to buy a -picture of the city in that little shop? If they weren't for tourists -to buy, why did they have them?" - -"Such nonsensical objects are provided for tourists and others who -must from time to time be admitted to Greenhaven. That does not excuse -flouting our laws and seeking to cause dissatisfaction through the -example of bribery. The city of First Haven has been wrung from the -wilderness, but the struggle to complete our building of the colony -must not be hindered or subverted. It is necessary--" - -"Aw, hell! You talk like a book too!" exclaimed Maria. - -The two men stared at her, silent, wide-eyed, utterly shocked at this -open evidence of dementia. - -"The price list is sacred to you," she snapped, "but it's all right to -put that junk on sale to clip the tourists, isn't it? Why doesn't that -strike you as being immoral? They're no good, but their money is, is -that it?" - -She turned and stalked back to the shelf-bed, where she sat down and -deliberately crossed her legs. - -"You will not be required further," the warden told the young man. "See -that you spread not the plague by repeating any of this Jezebel's loose -talk!" - -The guard left hurriedly. Maria discovered the warden gaping at her -knees, and defiantly tossed her head. - -"You never see a leg before?" she demanded. "Or are all the Greenie -girls bowlegged? Is that why they wear those horrible Mother Hubbards?" - -She gave her skirt a malicious twitch, revealing a few more inches of -firm thigh. The warden began to turn red. He muttered something that -actually sounded closer to a prayer than a curse, and turned his eyes -away. - -"I hope those in authority will yield to the importunities of your -depraved fellow who calls himself the Terran consul, and sullies the -clean air of Greenhaven by his very--I hope they do deport you!" - -"Oh, honey! Could you arrange it?" cried Maria, leaping up and -advancing on him. - -She grabbed him just above the elbows, and he broke her hold by -sweeping both hands upward and outward. This offered Maria the -opportunity to take a double grip upon his belt. When he lowered his -hands to free himself, she threw both arms about his neck. - -"I knew someone could fix things up!" she exclaimed. "You're going to -let me out of here until they decide what ship to put me on, aren't -you?" - -The warden's expression was horror-stricken. With a heavy effort, he -got both hands against her and shoved. Maria staggered back all the way -to the bunk. The warden, apparently not quite sure what he had done, -looked down at his hands. He turned them palm up, then, as his gaze met -Maria's, made as if to thrust them behind his back. - -"Relax, honey," she said. "You were a little high. I don't imagine you -have any laws here against shoving a lady on her can--as long as you're -careful where you shove." - -"May the Founders protect me from a forward woman!" breathed the -warden. "Will you be still and listen to me, Jezebel? Or would you -continue ignorant of the news I brought?" - -"What news?" - -"I am instructed to inform you that you have an official visitor. Do -you wish to see him?" - -Maria shoved herself away from the edge of the bunk and assumed a -dignified stance. She tugged her clothing into order. - -"I should be most honored to receive this visitor," she said in -her best imitation of Greenie formality. "I deeply appreciate your -announcing his presence--at last!" - -The warden glared at her. Finding no words worthy of the state of his -blood pressure, he stepped back and slammed the heavy door shut. It -muffled somewhat his departing footsteps. - -"I'm out!" yipped Maria. - -She did a little jig, ran to the door to press an ear against it, and -turned to survey the cell with the fingers of one hand beating a light -tattoo against her lips. - -She crossed to the bunk. From beneath it, she dragged the small -overnight bag she had succeeded in obtaining from the ship before -it had left for the next planet. She began to go about the room, -collecting the few odds and ends she possessed and packing them. - -She was fingering the bristles of her toothbrush for dampness when she -heard returning footsteps. - -_The hell with brushing my hair_, she thought. _I'll go as is._ - -She threw the toothbrush into the bag, tossed her hairbrush on top, and -snapped the catch. She considered herself ready. - -The door opened and the warden ushered another man into the cell. Maria -felt a sudden chill. - -The newcomer was a Greenie. - -She looked over his shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the Terran -consul, but there were just the two Greenies facing her. The stranger -was nearer in age to the young guard than to the warden. On the other -hand, the severity of his expression was a challenge to the older man. -The uniform was about the same. - -"My name is John Willard," he announced flatly. - -He reached into an inner pocket to produce a fold of papers. At the -edge of one, Maria caught sight of what she guessed to be an official -seal. Willard opened the papers and turned to the warden. - -"You identify the prisoner before us as one Maria Ringstad, native of -Terra?" - -"I do!" said the warden, righteously. - -"You will please sign this statement to that effect!" - -There was silence in the cell as the warden held the document against -the door to scribble his signature. Maria watched in growing chagrin. -Willard folded the statement of identification, returned it to his -pocket, and faced her. - -"Maria Ringstad," he said, "I am to inform you that your appeal has -been denied. You will accompany me to Corrective Farm Number Five, -where I will deliver you to the authorities who will supervise the -serving of your sentence." - -Maria dropped her bag. - -"_What?_ You're lying! Let me see those phony papers! This is some sort -of--" - -Willard let her have the back of his left hand across the face. Maria -never saw it until she was falling. She sat down with a thump, her legs -stretched out straight before her. - -Unbelievingly, she watched Willard sign a copy of his order for the -warden. The latter examined it with satisfaction before tucking it -away. They turned to look down at her, and Willard announced that he -was ready to leave. - -He seemed to think that a good way to forestall an argument was to get -her moving as quickly as possible. He yanked on one elbow, the warden -pulled on the other, and Maria headed for the door at a smart trot, -wondering how she had risen. - -"My bag!" she protested. - -"I have it," said Willard. - -"Turn left for the stairs," said the warden. - -"I'm not going!" she yelled. - -"Yes, you are," said Willard. - -"Yes, you are!" echoed the warden. - -They reached the head of the stairs, where the warden released his -grip. Willard shoved her forward, and the two of them descended with -breakneck lack of balance. At the bottom, they paused for the warden to -catch up. - -Maria seized the chance to kick Willard in the shin. He turned white, -but urged her on as the warden led the way through a barred door into -an open courtyard. They crossed the courtyard by fits and starts, with -Maria expressing her opinion in words she had never before uttered. -The meaning of certain of them still eluded her, but Willard seemed to -understand the general drift. - -The warden spoke to a guard, ordering him to open the main gate. -Willard boosted her through with a knee in the behind. The massive -portal swung to with a thud, leaving them out in the street. - -"I'll be damned if I go to any prison farm!" Maria shouted in his ear. -"I demand to see the Terran consul! This is an outrage!" - -Willard glared at a passing Greenie who seemed disposed to look on. -He tightened his grip on Maria's arm, the better to tow her twenty -feet down the street away from the gate. There, he backed her roughly -against the blank granite wall. - -"If you don't shut your face," he growled between set teeth, "I'll -_really_ belt you one!" - -Maria gasped in a breath and looked at him. It was easy, since he had -thrust his face to within a few inches of hers. Little droplets of -perspiration stood out on his forehead. - -He looked scared. - - - - -SEVEN - - -Westehvelt was still sitting with Joe Rosenkrantz in the communications -room when Colborn's call came through. He looked over Joe's shoulder as -the operator swiveled to face his telephone viewer. - -"How come you remembered the number?" he greeted Colborn. "Did the -elevator doors close on you?" - -"Very-funny-ha-ha!" retorted Colborn. "Look, Joe--have you got power?" - -Westervelt peered closer, thinking that the redhead looked unusually -concerned. Rosenkrantz seemed not to have noticed. - -"Power?" he said. "Have I got power! I can pull in stations you never -heard of, just on willpower! _You_--you poor slob--you don't even -remember if you're on your way home or coming to work! What is it now?" - -"I'll tell you what it is," shouted Colborn. "It's a power failure! -They don't even have any lights out in the street. I nearly got -trampled to death getting back in the lobby to phone you." - -Westervelt and Rosenkrantz looked at each other. - -"Come to think of it, Charlie," said the operator, "the lights did -blink a minute ago. I wonder if that was our own power taking over for -the whole floor?" - -They saw Colborn turn his head, and heard him expostulating with -someone who plainly was impatient to get into the phone cubicle. - -"I'll go check the meters," said Rosenkrantz. "Watch the space set for -me, Willie!" - -"Whuh-wh-wha?" stuttered Westervelt, groping after him. "Charlie! He -went away! What do I do if a call comes in?" - -Colborn finished dealing with his own problem downstairs, and returned -his attention to Westervelt. He requested a repeat. - -"I said that Joe went around the corner to check the power," babbled -the youth. "What do I do if a space call comes in? He said to watch the -set." - -"Oh," said Colborn. "You see the little red, star-shaped light at the -left of the board under the screen?" - -"Yeah, yeah! It's out, Charlie!" - -"Well, it should be. It's an automatic call indicator set for our code. -If it goes on, it shows you're getting a call even if you have the -screen too dark or the audio too low to notice. So you look for a green -one like it on the other side...." - -"Yeah. I see it." - -"You push the button beside it, and our code goes out automatically to -acknowledge. Then you push the next button underneath, which puts out a -repeating signal to stand by. Got that so far?" - -"I got it," said Westervelt. "Then what?" - -"Then you go scream for Joe at the top of your lungs. That covers -everything. You are now a deep-space operator. Just don't touch any of -those buttons until you get a license!" - -"But, Charlie--!" - -He was saved by the return of Rosenkrantz, for whom he thankfully -vacated space before the phone. Colborn was again engaged in making -faces at some other desperate commuter. - -"You were right, Charlie," said Rosenkrantz. "We're strictly on our -own private power. The whole floor, as near as I can tell. I thought -they were being fussy when they put it in, but maybe it will pay off at -that. How does it look down there?" - -"It's a mess," said Colborn. "You wouldn't believe there were so many -people working in our building." - -"No, no!" said Rosenkrantz. "I mean, what's the situation? Is it just -this building that's cut off, or the whole city, or what?" - -"You can't believe anything they're saying," Colborn told them, "but -they had somebody yapping on the public address system. It seems -there's a whole section of the city, about fifty blocks square, cut -off. They're talking about a main cable overloading." - -"I can imagine what they're saying," said Rosenkrantz. "The poor guys -stuck with finding and replacing it, I mean." - -Colborn gave a hollow laugh. - -"You think they're the only ones stuck? There ain't a single subway -belt moving to the surburban heliports. All the local surface monorails -are stopped. You should see the way they're packing the ground taxis, -and the cops won't let any more helicabs come down." - -"They're supposed only to pick up from the roofs," said Rosenkrantz. - -"That isn't where the people are. The people are all down here with me, -and half of them are trying to get in the booth to tell their wives -they won't be home. Well, there's a lot of us won't get home tonight, -if the boys don't find that break pretty soon." - -Westervelt and Rosenkrantz exchanged glances. The youth shrugged; he -had been planning on staying late anyhow. - -"Tell him to come back up, Joe," he suggested. "We have food in the -locker for visitors, and he can clear a table in here to snooze on." - -Colborn had heard him, and was shaking his head. - -"I'd like nothing better, Willie," he said, "but I might as well start -walking. It's better on the level than on the stairs." - -"What do you mean--stairs?" - -"I don't know about the other buildings around here, but they -regretfully announced that there will be no elevators running above -the seventy-fifth floor in this one. In fact, they only have partial -service that high, on the building's emergency power generator." - -Rosenkrantz looked worried. Broodingly, he fumbled out a box of -cigarettes. - -"What do you think, Charlie?" he asked. "I mean ... Lydman." - -"That's why I called," said Colborn. "I think you better check the -stairs and tell Smith. If he starts our boy down them, the ninety-nine -floors will give him something to keep his mind busy." - -The pressure from outside finally intimidated him into switching off. -The last they saw of him on the fading phone screen, he was striving -desperately to ease himself out of the booth in the face of a bellowing -rush of harried commuters for the phone. Joe sighed, trying to light -his smoke from the wrong end of the box. - -"I'm going to check our elevator, Joe," Westervelt said. - -He left the communications room and trotted up the corridor and around -the corner. Through the main doors, he caught sight of Pauline peering -out of her compartment. A thought struck him. - -He hurried over to her and thrust his head close to the opening in her -glass partition. - -"Were you still on that line, Cutie?" he demanded. - -"What line?" demanded Pauline indignantly. "Oh, Willie, does this mean -we have to walk down twenty-five floors tonight?" - -"You little--Listen! Don't let out a peep about this until we know -more!" - -"Why not, Willie?" - -"Do you want to get everybody upset? How can they dream up brilliant -ideas while they're worrying about ordering sandwiches sent up? -Promise!" - -Pauline reluctantly gave her word not to say anything without -consulting him. Westervelt returned to the hall, where he pressed the -button for the elevator. - -He waited about three times as long as it usually took to get a -car, then tried again with the same lack of results. Looking up, he -discovered that even the red light over the entrance to the stairs was -out. That, apparently, had not been part of the ninety-ninth floor -system now powered by their own generator. - -Westervelt took the few steps to the doorway concealing the stairs. -There was a beautifully reproduced notice on the door, informing all -persons that this was an emergency exit and that the door would open -automatically in case of fire or other emergency. It further offered -detailed directions on how to leave, which in simple language meant "go -downstairs." - -"The door is shut," muttered Westervelt, "so that proves there isn't -any emergency." - -He tried the handle. It did not budge, except for a slight clicking. - -Feeling slightly uneasy, he leaned over to squint at the crack of the -door. He spotted the latch, a sturdy bar, and saw that he was moving -it. There was, however, another bar which did not move, and the door -refused to slide open. - -"Of course," he breathed. "It's made to open automatically. How would -they do that? By electricity. What haven't we got plenty of? The damn' -thing's locked! Somebody designed a beautiful set-up!" - -He looked about the empty corridor, jittering indecisively. - -"I could call downstairs before I tell Smitty," he reminded himself. - -For the sake of having a handy shoulder to cry on, he went all the way -back to the communications room to use a phone. He made a gesture of -throwing up his hands as Joe looked around, then got Pauline on the -phone. - -"See if you can get me the building manager's office," he requested. -"Don't be surprised if it's busy for a couple of minutes." - -It was nearer fifteen minutes before his call went through. During -that time, he learned that Rosenkrantz took a serious view of the -inconvenience. - -"I guess you heard some of the talk about Bob Lydman," said the -operator. "Well, some is imagination, but a lot of it's true. He spent -a long time in a hellhole out among the stars; and if there's anything -that might shove him off course, it's the idea that he can't get _out_. -No matter where he is, he has to know he can leave when he feels like -it!" - -"But if he doesn't know about it?" asked Westervelt. - -"How long can you keep it quiet? I bet you can see a blackout from the -window. Watch the set--I'll take a look." - -"Aw, now, wait a minute, Joe!" - -Westervelt's consternation was diverted by the call that came through -at that moment. A perspiring face with ruffled gray hair--which -Westervelt could remember having seen occasionally about the lobby -downstairs, looking extremely sleek and well-groomed--appeared on the -phone screen. - -"If you're above the seventy-fifth, walk down that far. If you're -lower, walk down as far as you can," said the man hoarsely. "If you can -stay put, that's the best thing." - -"Tell me, what--?" - -"Power failure, not responsibility of the building management," said -the sweating gentleman. "Please co-operate!" - -"But what--?" - -"We're doing all we can and this phone is busy, young man! Will you -please--" - -"The stairs are locked!" shouted Westervelt. - -For a moment, he doubted that he had penetrated the official's panic. -Then he saw new outrage in the man's eyes. - -"What did you say?" - -Westervelt explained about the door to the stairs. The gentleman -downstairs clapped both hands to his moist cheeks. He had begun to look -numb. - -After a long pause, he pulled himself together enough to promise that -he would look into the matter. As he switched off, Westervelt heard him -muttering that it was just too much. - -"You hear that, Joe?" he asked. - -"Yeah, an' I didn't like it," replied the operator. "What does that -leave us ... no elevators, no stairs ... how about the helicopter roof?" - -"You have to walk up a flight of stairs to get there," said Westervelt, -thinking of the department's three helicopters garaged on their private -tower roof. "It's the same door. I suppose the door at the top is -frozen too." - -"Well, anyway, that could be worse," said Joe. "That makes two doors -to knock open, an' I bet your boys have some little gadget around that -will do that." - -Westervelt felt better. There was always a way out, he told himself. -Just the same, he thought he had better let Smith know about the -situation. - -He told Joe where he was going and headed back up the hall. When he -reached the corner, he tried the door again for luck. The luck was the -same. - -He wondered whether to go look in the lab for some burning tool. On -second thought, he decided that if any damage had to be done to the -building, it was not his responsibility. He turned to enter the main -office, flashing Pauline a wink that he hoped would look reassuring. - -Simonetta was busy with a case folder but Beryl was seizing an -opportunity to repair her nail polish of irridescent gold. She eyed him -curiously as he bent over to whisper into the brunette's ear. - -"Are they still talking in there, Si?" he asked. - -She drew away with a mock frown, demanding, "What's so confidential? -Are you spying for Yoleen?" - -Westervelt scowled over her head out the window. It was twilight -outside, and he noted that there were only a few dim lights in nearby -tall buildings. - -"I just wanted to see Mr. Smith," he forced himself to say. - -"Don't tell me that you want to go home, now that you got all the rest -of us to say we'd stay?" - -She softened when she saw that he had no wisecrack in readiness. - -"You know I didn't mean that, Willie," she said. "Is something the -matter?" - -Of all the people in the department, Simonetta was the one he found -it easiest to confide in. He had to struggle with himself, especially -since he saw no reason why she should not know. - -"I ... uh ... just wanted to see him a minute," he said lamely. "I'll -come back later." - -He got out of the office, feeling his neck burn under the combined -stares of the two girls. - -In the corridor, he halted to survey the sealed-off means of egress. -Both the elevator and the stairway door looked normal enough except for -the red exit light being dark. Westervelt wondered if it would be smart -to go around and adjust all the window filters so that no one would -expect to see many city lights should they happen to glance outside. - -He went over to the door for one last examination, wishing that it were -a hinged type instead of sliding. While he was bending to peep at the -lock, he heard a sound behind him and leaped up guiltily. - -Smith stood six feet away, outside the hall door of his office. He had -planted one fist on his hip and was running the other hand through his -rumpled hair as he gaped at Westervelt. - -"There's no keyhole there, Willie," he said at last. - -Westervelt had the feeling that he ought to offer the perfectly simple -explanation with which he had been living for what seemed like hours. -The words refused to come. - -"Does this have anything to do with the message Si just brought me?" -demanded Smith. - -"What message?" asked Westervelt, clearing his throat. - -"The police called and claimed someone reported seeing, from the air, -three helicopters being stolen from our roof." - -"Did she say that?" asked Westervelt. - -"She had the sense to write it down and show me while they were talking -about submarines. Something about the way she winked made me think I'd -better come out, so I told the boys I was going down the hall a minute." - -Westervelt heaved a sigh. He would not have to be alert to duck an -aroused Lydman charging down the corridor. - -"Then, Mr. Smith," he suggested, "let's walk down that way in case -someone comes out and sees us, and I'll tell you all about it." - -"They shouldn't be out for a while," Smith commented, examining the -youth doubtfully. "I started a little argument before I came out." - -Nevertheless, he followed Westervelt around the far corner, to the -wing leading to the laboratory and rest rooms. They had gone perhaps -ten feet past the corner when Westervelt finished the report on the -elevators and came to the frozen locks on the stairway door. - -Smith stopped in his tracks, as if to run back and check for himself; -but restrained himself. - -"You're absolutely sure, Willie?" he asked. - -"You can check with Joe Rosenkrantz, Mr. Smith. Or you can call the -office of the building manager downstairs." - -Smith rubbed his high-bridged nose as he pondered. His lips moved, and -Westervelt thought he read the name "Lydman." Then Smith checked off on -his fingers, muttering, the stairs, elevators, and helicopters. - -"No wonder they were stolen," he said. "Someone saw a chance to make -some easy money with all the helitaxis taken. The police will find them -tomorrow." - -"Meanwhile, I guess it's some trouble to us," said Westervelt. - -"Yes, it might be some trouble," admitted Smith, and this time said it -aloud: "Lydman! We won't mention it to him yet, right, Willie?" - - - - -EIGHT - - -The room would have been nearly a cube except for the fact that hardly -any parallel lines appeared in its design. The corners were rounded and -the ceiling slightly arched. The floor, though much of it was obscured -by a plentiful supply of cushions, was obviously several inches higher -in the center than where it curved up to meet the walls. All surfaces -were the color of old ivory but seemed to be of a more porous material. -The cushions could have been cut from slabs of some foamy, resilient -substance that had been manufactured in several rather dull colors. - -On two of the larger cushions placed end to end, lay a blond man, long -and lean. He wore a dark gray coverall that was loose as if he had lost -weight. His features had a poor color, a golden tan with something -unhealthy underlying it. He was, however, clean and recently shaven, -and his hair was cut short, if somewhat raggedly. He stirred, then -blinked into the soft light of an elliptical fixture recessed into the -ceiling. - -With a smothered groan, he came completely awake. Very carefully, as -if from long habit of avoiding painful movement, he rolled to his left -side and braced one hand against the floor. The effort of sitting up -made him bare his clenched teeth. - -The grimace was fleeting. He seemed to have some purpose that drove -him on to roll completely off the makeshift bed until he knelt with -both knees and his left hand on the smooth floor. As he paused to rest, -he held his right hand close to his body. - -After a moment, he brought his right foot up opposite his left knee. -Another rest period, on hand, knee, and foot, was required before -he shoved himself away from the floor and slowly stood upright. The -ceiling suddenly looked too low. - -He was tall, perhaps two inches over six feet. His features were -regular without being especially handsome. A man sizing him up might -have expected him to weigh about a hundred and ninety pounds, but -slight hollows in his cheeks suggested that this would not be true at -the moment. His eyes were blue, but the lids drooped and he seemed to -focus only vaguely upon his surroundings. - -At length, the man turned and walked deliberately to the side of the -room where a doorless opening offered egress into what looked like a -corridor. The opening was in the shape of an ellipse about five feet -high and three wide, beginning a few inches above the floor. He bent to -thrust his head into the hall, peering in both directions but taking no -heed of faint, scurrying sounds out there. Satisfied, he walked back to -his bed, turned over a cushion with his toe, and kicked a small utility -bag of gray plastic out into the open. - -The man stared at the bag for some minutes before reaching an evidently -unwelcome decision. Laboriously, then, he knelt until he could slide -one end under a knee and slide open the zipper with his left hand. -He pawed out a few items--battery shaver, towel, deck of cards, -toothbrush--which he left scattered on the floor as soon as he located -the object of his search. This was a many-jointed mechanism of metal -that resembled an armored centipede. It was as long as his hand and -nearly as broad. He held it in his palm as if wondering what to do with -it. - -Some slow process of judgment having blossomed in his mind, he turned -over the object to press a small stud. The plates of the "belly" -parted. From a recess there, he fumbled out a miniature accessory -that fitted easily in the palm of his hand. This was round, about an -inch thick, and might have been made of black plastic. The man's lips -twitched in a tired smile as he hefted it pensively. - -Without moving from his kneeling position, he thumbed a nearly -concealed switch on the edge of the disk. Within seconds, the thing -began to put forth music, a diminutive reproduction of the sound of a -full orchestra. The man gradually raised his hand until he held the -little player to his ear. His expression remained uncomprehending. He -lowered his hand, shrugging slightly, and turned off the music. - -Once more, he forced himself laboriously to his feet. Leaving his other -belongings on the floor without a backward glance, he strode to the -door with the pace of a man who has just walked five or ten miles. His -long legs carried him across the distance in only a few steps, but -there was a slowness, a heaviness, in their motion that revealed a deep -weariness. He raised one foot just high enough to step through the -opening into the corridor. - -Outside, he turned left and walked along at the same pace, passing -several other doors at irregular intervals. That they may have led to -other rooms with other occupants seemed to interest him not at all. -He neither glanced aside nor paused until he came face to face with a -barrier, a wall blocking his path. - -It was the first doorway that sported a door, and the latter was -closed. It looked to be made of a plastic substance, darker than the -ivory walls among which he had thus far moved, but smoother. There was -a grilled opening more or less centered, but no other markings. - -Nevertheless, the blond man seemed to know where the portal would be -fastened. He ran the tips of his fingers along one curved side, as if -judging a distance. Juggling the black disk in his hand until the grip -suited him better, he pressed a second switch, which was concealed at -the center of the object. - -A thin jet of flame, so white that it far outshone the lighting of the -corridor, flared against the edge of the door. He moved the flame along -the edge for about two feet. Then he snapped it out and waited with his -eyes blinking painfully. The corridor lighting had been revealed to be -yellow and dim. - -Having rested, the man took a deep breath and shoved with his left -shoulder against the elliptical door. It slipped off whatever had been -holding it at the opposite edge and fell into the hallway beyond the -bulkhead. He had neatly cut through two hinges on the other side. - -Without looking back, he stepped over the loose door and continued on -his way. Eventually, he came to another such barrier, and he dealt with -it in the same fashion. The third time he was halted, he found himself -at a vertical column which passed down through an oval opening in the -ceiling and disappeared through another in the floor of the corridor. - -The man hesitated. A vague sadness flitted across his features. Then, -as if driven by some deep purpose, he approached the column. - -It was about six inches in diameter, and the most regular shape he -had encountered anywhere. The surface of it was ringed by horizontal -grooves nearly an inch deep, and looked as if it would be easy to -climb. From the hole below, there rose slightly warmer air, bearing a -blend of pungent and musty odors. The man's nostrils wrinkled. - -He stepped to the edge of the opening, then sidled around until he had -the greatest possible space on his side of the column. The instrument -in his hand finally came to his attention as he reached out to touch -the grooved surface. He considered it for a long moment. Apparently, -he was pleased at the brilliance of the thought that eventually moved -him to thrust the thing into a pocket of his pants. He faced the -column again, and again hesitated. His right hand lifted an inch, -indecisively, following which a snarl of pain twisted his lips. - -Sidling around the opening once more until he found himself having -completed a circuit, he let the fingers of his left hand explore the -grooves. It did not seem to occur to him to look either down or up, -although faint, distant sounds were borne to him on the current of -odoriferous air. - -In the end, he leaned forward until his left shoulder came against the -slim column. He wrapped his left arm about it. A little scrambling, -and he had gripped it between his legs. Then a slight relaxation of -his hold permitted him to slide gradually downward until he slipped -past the floor line. There were only a few inches to spare between his -shoulders and the edge of the opening, as if the latter had not been -designed for such as he. - -The next level into which he descended was dark. He continued to slide -cautiously downward. - -At the second level below his starting point, there was light. The -corridor resembled that in which he had begun his journey. He put out -one foot to catch the edge of the opening while he rested. - -This hallway curved not far from the man in one direction, although the -other side ran straight for about twenty feet before being closed off -by a door similar to the one he had removed. Around the bend floated -faint noises suggesting high-pitched conversation, although they came -from too far away to reveal the nature of their origin. The tall man -kept one eye cocked warily in that direction. - -After a few minutes, certain sounds seemed to draw nearer. The -cluttering "talk" faded, but he could hear more plainly a hushed -scuffling that could have been caused by many feet taking short, -hurried steps. - -The man released his foothold and slid smoothly below the floor -level just as moving shadows appeared at the bend of the corridor. He -dropped down the column through four more unlighted levels, reaching an -atmosphere that held a blend of machine oil along with its other odors. - -Light filtered upward with the air currents. Somewhere below was a very -bright level, whence came the rhythmic throb of heavy machinery. This -did not resemble the sounds of a spaceship, nor yet a Terran factory, -but some considerable work was being carried on. He groped out in the -darkness for a foothold, got the other foot over, and wearily pushed -himself away from the column. - -He was on a level so dim that he touched the edge of the floor opening -with his toe to make sure of its location before moving off along the -corridor. - -In the darkness, he went more slowly than before, but made better -time than looked possible. Under the circumstances, he reassured -himself by stretching out his left hand every few seconds to touch the -smooth wall. He walked normally, though not noisily, and his sense of -direction was extraordinarily good. - -About a hundred yards along a corridor that seemed not to have a single -bend or corner, he slowed his pace doubtfully. A few steps more brought -him to another closed door. This one, however, yielded to his shove, -swinging back to reveal a stretch of tunnel with a bare minimum of -illumination oozing from widely spaced ceiling fixtures. Here, he could -sense side doorways his fingers had usually missed along the darker -stretch. - -He had gone another hundred yards and finally passed two cross -corridors, before he was again obliged to stop and rest. He slumped -against the side wall, favoring his right arm and gazing dully before -him. - -A few steps further along was one of the typical elliptical doorways. -Through this one, some light was reflected to the wall of the corridor. -The man stared at it in the way anyone in the dark will turn his eye to -light. After several minutes, he moved toward it as if impelled by idle -curiosity. - -Reaching the opening, he hesitated. A strange expression flickered over -his face. The decision to look or not to look was causing him great -uneasiness. Finally, he stepped forward and entered a small chamber. - -This was evidently located so as to house another slim column that -disappeared upward and downward into unknown levels. Several small, -oval windows were set just below the ceiling, at a height which -presented no particular difficulty to the man when he stepped over to -look through them. - -The scene that met his eye was a wide corridor, so wide that it might -be termed a concourse or even a public square. Members of the public -that were to be observed frequenting it were very, very far from being -human. - -Two of them scurried past his window, clearly illuminated by lights far -up in the domed ceiling. They were furry, about five feet tall, lithe -and cat-like in their movements. Compared to a human, they were slim -and short-bodied. They possessed three arms and three legs, each set -being equally spaced about their bodies. Now and then, as they walked -with short, rapid steps, frequent joints were apparent in all limbs, -showing clearly that they were not just muscular tentacles. From the -openings at the apexes of their heads, which must have been mouths, -they were streamlined in a fashion that made it more natural to picture -them swimming like Terran cuttlefish then climbing up and down thick -poles. The three eyes set about each head were low enough to allow for -jaw muscles. - -The man watched this pair slide down a column set beside the wall -that concealed him. Other individuals were scattered about the wide -concourse. Almost without exception, they wore nothing more than a -pouch secured by a belt just above what would have been the hips in -a human. Clothing was made unnecessary by handsome coats of short, -honey-colored fur that enhanced their feline air. Sometimes, when one -or another bent or twisted, purple skin would show through the fur. - -Across the concourse, the man could see open stalls that suggested -shops. Most of them were dark inside, with nettings stretched across -the fronts. The general atmosphere was not unlike that of a small -Terran business section, or even a spaceport terminal, late in the -evening with business slack and only night workers about. - -Abruptly, those abroad scuttled for the walls. A perfectly good reason -for the exodus appeared a moment later, as a column of low, long -vehicles dashed from a high-arched tunnel and shot across the open -space. Each was three-wheeled and carried half a dozen individuals -wearing what resembled thick plastic armor. Cages of metal guarded -their heads and they bore weapons like Terran rocket launchers. The -convoy passed out of sight before the man could note more. - -He retreated thoughtfully from the window. At the opening to the -corridor, he paused indecisively. He shook his head as if trying to put -out of his mind what he had just witnessed. - -It might have been prudent for anyone in his position to give the -corridor a searching look before entering, but this did not seem -to occur to him. In seconds, he was striding along in the former -direction--if anything, a trifle more briskly. - -As he walked, the muffled sounds from the scene he had examined faded -in the distance. Once again, he was alone with his own discreet -footfalls. Several times, he passed junctions of cross corridors, and -once he had to burn open a door; but never did he meet an inhabitant -of the hive-like city. Either the way had been shrewdly chosen or it -was seldom used at this period of the day. Even granting both, his luck -must have been fantastic. - -The corridor had begun to assume an almost hypnotic monotony when it -ended bluntly at a column leading only upward. The man perforce was -faced with the challenge of climbing it, a prospect which he obviously -did not relish. - -Sighing, he reversed his earlier procedure in sliding down other poles. -With only one good arm, pulling himself up was slow work. It was, -perhaps, only the fact that the levels were constructed to suit beings -five feet tall that made it possible for him to make it to the next -level up. He sat with his legs dangling through the opening, panting, -while perspiration oozed out to bead his forehead. - -This time, he was nearly half an hour in recovering and working up -the determination required to go on. The corridor in which he found -himself ran at right angles to the one below. It was wider and higher, -as if more traveled, but any such open area as he had peeped at was far -to the rear. Nearby, however, was a much larger door than he had yet -encountered. He walked over to it. - -When a tentative push produced no results, he dipped his left hand into -a pocket for the black disk. - -He seemed to have a good idea of where to locate the hinges on this -door too. When he had burned through, the door was harder to shove -aside because it turned out to be of double thickness. The hinges had -been concealed from both inside and outside. The tall man now found -himself only a few steps from another such portal, in what looked like -an anteroom. - -Methodically, he proceeded to burn his way through, squinting in the -bright light of the flame but otherwise betraying no emotion. - -The last door fell away. Fresh air billowed in around him, and he could -see stars in a night sky outside. - -Without haste, he stepped outside. - -The tan, plastery wall reared above him for about ten levels. Off -to his left, shadows on the ground showed a jagged shape, so it was -probable that another part of the building towered upward after a -set-back. The ground around the exit was perfectly level and bare of -any vegetation. The nearest life was a wall of shrub-like trees about a -hundred feet away, and toward these the man began to walk in the same -tired pace. - -He found, as if by instinct, a broad, well-kept path through the trees. -A mild breeze caused the long, hanging leaves to rustle. Without -looking back, the man followed the path up a gentle slope and over the -curve of the hill. At the bottom of the downgrade, two figures shrank -suddenly back into the shadows. He kept walking. - -"That you, Gerson?" came a loud whisper, as the two Terrans stepped -forward again. "Come on; we have an aircar over here! Did anyone follow -you?" - -The tall man turned to go with them through a fringe of trees. It -seemed like a poor time to try to talk, with the possibility of pursuit -behind them. The two bundled him into the black shape of the aircar -in silence, and moved it cautiously through the trees just above the -ground. They raised into clear air only when they had put half a mile -between them and the towering hive-city. - - - - -NINE - - -In the library, between Smith's corner office and the conference -room that adjoined the communications center, Westervelt sat and -watched Lydman pore over a technical report in the blue binding of -the Department of Interstellar Relations. Half a dozen other volumes, -old and new, technical and diplomatic, were scattered about the table -between them. - -The youth caught himself running a hand through his hair in Smith's -usual manner, and stopped, appalled. He judged, after due reflection, -that it might be worse: he could have picked up some of Lydman's -peculiarities instead. - -Probably, he told himself, he ought to show some better sense and -imitate the suavity of Parrish if he had to adopt the manners of anyone -in the department. Unfortunately, he did not like Parrish very well, -even when he was not engaged in being actively jealous of the man. - -Some day, Willie, he mused, you'll snap too. When you do, it would be -just your style to take after this mass of beef in front of you. - -Immediately, he was ashamed of the thought. Lydman had been, in his -way, nicer to him than anyone else. Moreover, he was far from being a -mass of beef. Westervelt recalled the sight of Lydman on an open beach, -where he seemed more at ease than anywhere else. The man kept himself -hard-muscled and trim. Despite the gaunt look that sometimes crossed -his features, he was probably on the low side of thirty. - -_So he's still quick as well as strong_, thought Westervelt. _If he -does go for the door the way Joe predicts, Willie my boy, you be sure -to get out of the way!_ - -In theory, he was supposed to be helping Lydman research some problems -Smith had thought up. So far, he had read one short article which had -bored the ex-spacer and twice gone to the files for case folders. He -was very well aware that the real idea was to have someone with Lydman -constantly. For this reason, he was prepared further to assume the -courtesy of answering any interrupting phone calls. He was determined -that any news not censored by Pauline would be a wrong number, no -matter if it were the head of the D.I.R. himself. - -Lydman looked up from his reading. - -"I'm getting hungry; aren't you, Willie?" - -"I guess so. I didn't notice," said Westervelt. - -"How about phoning down for something? Get whatever you like." - -That was typical of Lydman, Westervelt realized. The man did not care -what he ate. Smith would have been specific though unimaginative. -Parrish would have sent instructions about the seasoning. The girls -would choose something sickening by Westervelt's standards. He shoved -back his chair and stood up. - -"I'd better see what they're doing up front," he said. "I think Mr. -Smith was talking about it being quicker to raid our own food locker. -I'll be back in a minute." - -Lydman raised his gray-blue eyes and stared through him curiously. - -"No hurry," he said mildly. - -Westervelt thought that the man was still watching him as he walked -through the door, but he did not like to look back. It might have been -so. - -When he reached the main office, he found both girls replacing folders -in the bay of current files opposite Simonetta's desk. - -"How about letting me at the buried treasure?" he asked. "The thought -of food is infiltrating insidiously." - -"Willie," said Simonetta, "you'll go far here. None of the other brains -had such a good idea. I'll phone for something if you'll see what -people want." - -"I think Mr. Smith wants to use stuff we have in the locker," said -Westervelt, blocking the way to her desk. "Hold it a second while I -check." - -He rapped on Smith's door as he opened it. He found the chief with -most of the papers on his desk shoved to one side so that a built-in -tape viewer could be brought up from its concealed position. Smith was -scowling as if obtaining little useful information from whatever he was -watching. - -"They're getting hungry," Westervelt whispered. "Is it all right to -raid our guest locker?" - -Smith shut off his machine, and scrubbed one hand across his long face. - -"Right, Willie," he agreed. "The sooner the better. Take out whatever -you think best and pass it around. Meanwhile, I'd better check on the -situation downstairs--come to think of it, when you called, did you get -an outside line and punch the numbers yourself?" - -"No, but I have an understanding with Pauline," said Westervelt. - -He was thinking that Smith had put him in charge of the food, which was -perhaps a little better than being sent around to take personal orders -as the girls had assumed he would do, but which was still a long way -beneath the conference status he had appeared to have an hour earlier. - -"Good boy!" Smith approved. "Then she'll know who I want to talk to and -that she shouldn't listen in." - -Westervelt was far from sanguine about the last condition, but left -without trying to cause his chief any unhappiness. - -_Well, so it goes, he reflected. One minute a project man, the next an -office boy! If I pick out what everybody likes, I'll be a project man -again. But if they like it too much, I'll turn out to be the official -chef around here whenever someone important stays to lunch._ - -The picture of sitting in on a talk with some potent official of the -D.I.R. and expounding his brilliant solution to a problem, only to be -requested to slap together a short order meal, made him pause outside -the door, frowning. - -"Now what, Willie?" asked Simonetta. - -He roused himself. - -"Leave it to me, Si," he answered, working up a grin. "I have -everything under control." - -"I hope you know what you're doing," Beryl commented. "I won't stand -for a plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, or anything that fattening." - -"You'll have your choice," Westervelt promised. "I wouldn't want -anything to spoil that figure. Just let me at the locker." - -He slipped an arm around her waist to move her aside. The flesh of her -flank was softly firm under his fingers, and he made himself think -better of an impulse to squeeze. - -Beryl stepped away, neither quickly enough to be skittish nor slowly -enough to imply permissiveness. Westervelt shrugged. He stepped forward -to the blank wall at the end of the file cabinets, and slid back a -panel to reveal a white-enameled food locker. - -It was divided into an upper and lower section, with transparent -doors that rolled around into the side walls. The lower half was -refrigerated. Westervelt opened the upper to explore more comfortably. - -Most of the foiled packages contained sandwiches, many of them -self-heating. Somewhat bulkier containers held more substantial -delicacies: Welsh rabbit, turkey and baked potato, filet mignon, -rattlesnake croquettes, and salmon salad. There were sealed cups of -coffee, tea, or bouillon that heated themselves upon being opened, and -ice cream and fruits in the freezer section. - -"Si, let me have a couple of 'out' baskets," said Westervelt, holding -out his hand. - -"Empty?" - -"All right--your 'in' and Beryl's 'out' trays. Do you expect me to go -around with everybody's supper stuffed in my pockets?" - -"Frankly, yes," said Beryl. "But not with mine. Let me see what they -have in there!" - -She examined the array while Westervelt experimented with balancing -two empty desk trays across his forearm. By the time he was ready, the -girls had blocked him off, and he had to wait until the possibilities -had been debated thoroughly. In the end, Simonnetta selected veal -scallopini; and Beryl took a crabmeat sandwich for herself and a filet -mignon for Parrish. Westervelt grinned when he saw that she also chose -four sealed martinis. - -His own decisions were simple. Putting aside a budding curiosity about -rattlesnake meat, he took a package of fried ham and eggs--to see if it -could be possible--and a self-heating package of mince pie. For Smith, -Lydman, and Rosenkrantz, he piled a tray with half a dozen roast beef -or turkey sandwiches, a selection of pie and ice cream, and all the -coffee containers he could fit in. - -"Si, pick out something nice for Pauline," he requested, noting that -Beryl was already on the way across the office to Parrish's door. - -Simonetta exclaimed at her forgetfulness, pushed aside the container -that she had been warming on her desk according to instructions, and -told him to go ahead. - -"I'll take her a salad and some bouillon," she said. "The kid thinks -she has to watch her weight already." - -As an afterthought, Westervelt topped his load with a martini for -Smith, on the theory that the chief was going to need it. - -He went in there first, let Smith see that nothing but coffee was on -the way to Lydman, and made his exit directly into the hall. He made -the communications room his next stop, and took what was left into the -library to share with Lydman. - -The latter took a roast beef sandwich, pulled the heating tab, and -tore it open after the required thirty seconds with one twist of his -powerful fingers. Westervelt had a little more trouble with his package -of ham and eggs, but the coffee cups were simpler. - -They sat there in silence, except for an occasional word, and a brief -scramble when Westervelt spilled coffee on a list of cases Lydman had -thought of for further checking. The ex-spacer chewed methodically on -three sandwiches, and poured down two containers of coffee, scanning a -copy of the _Galatlas_ all the while. - -Westervelt found the fried ham and eggs to be a disappointment. - -_I should have tried a steak_, he reflected. _Eggs can't be done. Not -and taste right._ - -There was one sandwich left, cold turkey, and Lydman had just begun -on his third, so the youth helped himself. The hot mince pie had -real flavor, and he was feeling quite comfortable by the time Lydman -finished his ice cream. - -"Shall I get some more coffee?" Westervelt offered. - -"Not for me," said the other. "If you go back, though, you could pick -up those folders." - -Westervelt took the excuse to leave for a few minutes. He stopped in to -see if Joe wanted anything, promised to look for bourbon, and returned -to the main office. He found Simonetta sipping a solitary cup of coffee. - -"Did they leave you all alone?" he demanded. - -"Oh, no," she said. "The boss came out and had coffee with Pauline and -me, but then she had a call for him and he thought he'd rather take it -in his office." - -Westervelt stepped over to Smith's door and listened. In theory, it -should have been soundproof, so he opened it a crack. Hearing Smith's -voice, he pushed his luck and put his head inside. The chief was busy -enough on the phone not to be aware of the intrusion. - -"Yes, I appreciate your difficulty," Smith said, obviously having -said it many times before. "Still, if there is no way to send us an -elevator, I would much rather not have a party climbing the twenty-five -flights to break open the door. If it has to be broken, we can do it." - -Westervelt recognized the answering voice, hoarser though it now was, -as that of the silver-haired manager downstairs. He wondered why the -sight of each other did not make both the manager and Smith want to -comb their hair. - -"Naturally, we will make good any damage," Smith said. "Besides, you -must have a good many other people on the lower floors of the tower to -look after." - -"Most of them are displaying the good sense to stay in their offices -until the emergency is dealt with." - -Westervelt crept inside and moved around until he could see the face -pouting on the screen of Smith's phone. The man now had heavy shadows -under his eyes, although he had mopped off the perspiration that had -bathed him when Westervelt had spoken with him. - -"Well, perhaps we have slightly different problems," Smith told the -manager. - -"Problems!" exclaimed the latter. His effort to contain his emotions -was clearly visible. "Well ... of course ... if it is really serious, -perhaps we can get the police to send up an emergency rescue squad--" - -"_No!_" Smith interrupted violently. "No rescue squad! We do not in any -way need to be rescued. Not at all!" - -The manager eyed him with dark suspicion. - -"Is someone ill?" he demanded. "We cannot be responsible for any -lawsuits due to your refusal to let us call competent authorities." - -"Aren't you a competent authority?" demanded Smith. "Just get the -elevator working, will you? We'll wait until then." - -"There is no way of knowing when power will be restored," said the -manager. "You must have a TV set around the office somewhere, so you -can hear the news bulletins on the situation as soon as I can." He -paused to pop a lozenge into his mouth, sighed, and added, "Sooner, I -dare say." - -Smith had leaned back in his chair, a stricken look on his face. He saw -Westervelt, and began to wave frantically toward the hall. - -"I never thought of that," exclaimed the youth. - -He burst into the hall from Smith's private entrance, realized he -would have to pass the library to reach Joe Rosenkrantz with an order -for censorship, and circled back to the main entrance. - -He went in, saw Simonetta still at her desk, and opened the door to -Pauline's cubicle. When he got inside with the little blonde, her -swivel chair, and her switchboard, there was just about room enough to -breathe. - -"Pauline!" he panted. "Punch the com room number and lend me your -headset!" - -"This is cosy!" she giggled, but did as he asked. - -Joe answered promptly. - -"Joe, this is Willie. It just so happens that Charlie Colborn was -changing transistors in all the personal sets you have down there, so -you can't pick up a newscast right now--right?" - -There was a pregnant pause before one answered. - -"Right. That's the way it goes. Can you talk? I don't see any image." - -"I'm with Pauline. It's okay. I mean, it was just a thought, in -case...." - -"Sure," said Rosenkrantz. "Should have thought of it myself. Everything -else all right?" - -Westervelt told him that it was, agreed that he hoped it would -continue. Then he surrendered the headset to Pauline, who tickled his -ribs as he squirmed around to leave the cubicle. - -"Don't you dare!" she giggled when he turned on her. "I'll talk!" - -"Please, no, Pauline," he sighed. "Anything but that!" - -He walked loosely past Simonetta, who stared at him unbelievingly, and -started to enter Smith's office again. Behind him, he heard the sounds -of a door being closed and high heels clicking subduedly on the springy -flooring. Beryl's voice said something as he began to look around. He -stopped. - -"What did she say?" he asked Simonetta. - -Beryl had already disappeared toward the hall. - -"She said Mr. Parrish invited her downstairs for a cocktail. He thinks -they should have about twenty minutes to relax before going back to -work." - -"You're kidding!" gasped Westervelt. - -"No, I'm not! Willie, you've been acting awfully strange. Where have -you been ducking to every time--" - -Westervelt was already running for the hall. - -He skidded and nearly fell going through the entrance. Beryl was -standing near the elevator. - -"Did you ring yet?" asked Westervelt. - -"No, I'm waiting for Mr. Parrish," said Beryl, in a tone that -emphasized unwieldiness of an assembly of three persons. - -"Your lipstick is smeared," said Westervelt. - -Beryl gave him an even less believing stare than had Simonetta, but, -glancing hastily at her watch, began to fumble out her compact. - -"In here, where the light is better," said Westervelt. - -He grabbed her by an elbow and dragged her into the office before it -occurred to her to resist. - -"Please, Willie! You're _handling_ me!" she protested coldly. - -Westervelt was already out the door again, bent upon taking the other -entrance to Smith's office, when he saw the hall door of Parrish's -office open. He reversed direction in time to meet Parrish as the -latter stepped into the corridor. - -"Beryl said to tell you she'll be right back," he said, waving a thumb -vaguely in the direction of the rest rooms. - -"Oh. Thanks, Willie," answered Parrish. "I'll wait inside." - -Westervelt reached Smith's office before Parrish had completely closed -his own door. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blue of Beryl's -dress. - -"Mr. Smith!" he called as he thrust his head inside. "I think I need -help!" - - - - -TEN - - -The first sensation that penetrated, agonizingly, to Taranto's -consciousness was that of heat. Heat, and then the damp itch of soaking -sweat. - -The next feeling, as he groggily sought to take up the slack in his -hanging jaw, was thirst. It was a raging demand that brought him -entirely awake. Before he could control himself, he had emitted a groan. - -Immediately, he was dropped from whatever had been supporting him in a -swaying, dipping fashion. He landed with a thud on the hard ground. - -A chatter of Syssokan broke out above him. It was answered by other -Syssokan voices farther away. Taranto kept his eyes closed and lay -limply where he had sprawled, while he tried to figure out what had -gone wrong. - -Shortly before dawn, he and Meyers had each swallowed his capsule as -directed. He remembered a period of vague drowsiness after that, then -nothing more until he had been awakened just now. From his still dizzy -mind, he sought to drag the outline of events expected. - -They had hoped to be taken out to the desert, possibly to a Syssokan -burial ground according to the local custom, and left to be dried by -the dessicating blaze of the sun. It had been planned that a spaceship -would land in the late afternoon to pick them up. Undoubtedly, it would -take the Syssokans several hours to report the "deaths" and to secure -official permission for disposal of the bodies, even though they were -less given to red tape than Terrans. Still, they should have abandoned -the "bodies" long before Taranto had expected to awake. - -He risked opening one eye a slit. Syssokan legs crowding around blocked -his view, but he could tell that it was dusk. The heat he felt must be -that of sand and rocks that had baked all day. - -It must have taken the Syssokans a long time to get this far. He -wondered whether they had brought him an unusual distance into the -desert, perhaps to avoid contaminating their own burial grounds, or -whether they had simply indulged in some long-winded debate as to the -proper course to pursue in regard to deceased aliens. - -_My God!_ he thought. _What if they'd decided to dissect us? I never -thought of that! I wonder if the joker that sent those pills did?_ - -Whatever had gone wrong, he was well behind schedule. He could imagine -the chagrin of the D.I.R. man watching the proceedings through his -little flying spy-eye. Taranto hoped that the spacers hired for the -pick-up were still standing by--at the worst, they would have water. -Cautiously, he tried to move his tongue inside his mouth. It stuck -against his teeth. He suspected that the taste would be terrible, if he -could taste at all. - -_The heat!_ he thought. _I've been soaking up heat all day and not -sweating. Now it's jetting out of every pore._ - -Whatever the drug had done or failed to do, it must have nearly -suspended most of the normal functions of the body. No wonder he was -perspiring so heavily as he began to recover! Even so, he felt as if -he had a fever. He began to hope that he had not been carried for -very long. Unless he had been lying in the cell--or, better, in some -examination room at ground level--for most of the elapsed time while -disputes held up disposal of his body, some instinct told him, he was -very likely to die. - -Someone rubbed a hand roughly over his face, slipping through the film -of sweat. At this demonstration, renewed exclamations broke out above -him. One of the Syssokans shouted some gabble, as if to another some -way off. - -A moment later, Taranto heard a hoarse yelp that could have come only -from a Terran throat. Then words began to form, and he realized that it -must be Meyers. - -_That blew the pipes!_ he thought, and opened his eyes. - -A Syssokan looking down at him hissed in astonishment. Others, who had -been watching another group about twenty feet away, turned to stare -down at Taranto. He was hauled to his feet by the first pair that -thought of it. One, a minor officer by his red uniform, sputtered a -question at the Terran, forgetting in his evident excitement that he -was speaking Syssokan. Taranto wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. He -was beginning to feel a trifle cooler as his perspiration evaporated in -the dry air, but his surroundings seemed feverishly unreal. - -He could not quite understand what Meyers was shouting now, but even in -the hoarse voice could be detected a note of pleading. Taranto thought -it must be something about water. The Syssokan before him gathered his -wits and repeated his question in Terran. - -"What doess thiss mean?" he demanded, glaring angrily at Taranto with -his huge, black eyes. - -The Terran tried to answer, but could not get the words out. He -gestured weakly at a waterskin secured to the harness of one of -the soldiers. After a brief moment of hesitation, the officer -waved permission. The soldier detached the container and handed it -suspiciously to Taranto. Fearing the effect of too much liquid in one -jolt, the latter forced himself to take only a few small swallows. He -wished he could afford to stick his whole head inside the skin and soak -up the water like a blotter. - -"You are dead!" declared the officer impatiently. - -The tiny greenish-gray scales of his facial skin actually seemed -ruffled. Taranto dizzily sought for some likely apology to excuse his -being alive. He decided that there might be a slim chance of getting -away with a whopper. - -"If it is officially declared, then of course I am dead!" he croaked. -"What d'ya expect. Look how weak I am!" - -The Syssokan swiveled their narrow, pointed skulls about at each other. - -"I'm in the last minutes," said Taranto sadly. - -"What lasst minutess?" asked the officer. - -"It's the way Terrans pass on," asserted the spacer. "Didn't you ever -see a Terran die?" - -The officer silently avoided admitting so much, running a hand -reflectively over his thick waist, but his hesitation provided an -opening. - -"That's the way it goes," said Taranto. "First a blackout ... we sleep, -that is. Then the last minutes, the sweat of death, and ... blooey!" - -He raised the waterskin and sneaked a long swallow, risking it because -he feared he might not be allowed another. - -He was right. The officer snatched away the skin and thrust it into the -long fingers of its indignant owner. - -"If you are sso dead," he demanded, not illogically, "why do you drink -up our water?" - -"Sorry," apologized Taranto. "Where are we?" - -"What difference iss it to you?" - -"I ... uh ... don't want to make hard feelings or bad luck by dying in -one of your burial grounds." - -"It will not happen," said the officer grimly. "We have been ssent in -another place to guard against that. Look back--you can see the city -over that way." - -Taranto turned. The outline of the city walls, with lights showing here -and there on the watch towers, loomed up about five miles away. A small -rise in the rolling ground of the desert hid the base of the walls -and the greater part of the rough trail they had evidently followed. -It would have been a fine spot for a spaceship to drop briefly to the -surface. - -"Do you wish to lie down here?" asked the officer politely. "We will -wait until it iss over." - -Don't be so damn' helpful! thought Taranto. - -He looked desperately about, striving to give the impression of seeking -a comfortable spot. He felt the situation turning more and more sour -by the minute. It would be very difficult to feign death successfully -again now that the Syssokan suspicions were so aroused. They might well -make sure of him in their own way. - -Near him stood half a dozen brown-clad soldiers. Four of them, spears -slung on their shoulders by braided straps, had apparently been -carrying him while two others acted as relief bearers. Besides the -officer, there was a sub-officer, also in brown but wearing a red -harness. In the background, a similar group clustered about Meyers. - -Taranto saw that he had been tumbled from a sort of flat stretcher -of wickerwork. It was of careless craftsmanship, as if meant to be -abandoned with the body it served on the last journey. He wondered if -it could be assumed to be his property. - -"Don't put yourselves out," he said. "I can't hardly take a step even -to sit down. It'll be just a coupla minutes now. Good-bye!" - -The Syssokan officer made no move to depart. Taranto had not really -dared to hope that he would. He was trying to think of some further -excuse when Meyers saved him the trouble. - -"_Help!_ Taranto!" shrieked the other spacer, bursting suddenly from -the group about him. "I told them we're alive, and they want to kill -us!" - -He ran staggeringly toward Taranto, kicking up spurts of sand. His -shirt front was dark with sweat and dribbled water. He looked wild with -fright. - -"Ah, they do live!" exclaimed the officer. "Seize them!" - -He seemed to realize only after about ten seconds that he had, this -time, spoken in Terran. Evidently feeling that not all his men might -have learned that particular language, he began to repeat the order in -Syssokan. Taranto interfered by swinging his fist at the center of the -greenish-gray features. The Syssokan, arms flung wide, sailed backward -and landed on the nape of his neck in a patch of gravel. Meyers -screamed hoarsely as his own bearers caught up to him and dragged him -down. - -Taranto sprang forward to snatch up the wicker stretcher from the -ground. A long-fingered hand clutched at his shoulder, but let go when -he kicked backward without looking around. He raised the stretcher and -swung it around in a wide arc at the three Syssokans reaching for him. - -Two, having left their heads unprotected, went down; but the stretcher -frame crumpled. Taranto tripped the other Syssokan, glancing hopefully -at the sky. There was no sign of the fire-trail of a descending -spaceship in the deepening twilight. Then he had to duck as the other -three bearers were upon him. - -"Get up, Meyers!" he yelled. - -He met the rush with a hard left that dumped the leading Syssokan on -his back. The next hesitated, and was brushed aside by the sixth, who -had had the wits to unsling his spear. - -Taranto sidestepped the crude but large point that thrust straight at -his belly. The shaft of the spear slid along his left ribs, and he -punched over the outstretched arms of the soldier at the Syssokan's -head. He clamped the spear between his elbow and body, retaining it as -his attacker staggered back. - -Two or three were now advancing from where a knot of figures seemed to -be sitting upon Meyers in the gloom. They did not especially hurry. -Taranto had begun to reverse the spear to jab at the Syssokan left -facing him when he heard a scrabbling behind him. - -He whirled away to his right, ducking instinctively as a body hurtled -past him. When he faced about, he found that most of those whom he had -knocked down were again on their feet and advancing. The officer, the -lower part of his face smeared with purplish blood, ran at Taranto full -tilt. He screamed an order in his own language. - -The spacer cracked the butt of the spear smartly against the Syssokan's -head, sending him down on his face. One of the others, however, managed -to get a grip on the weapon. Instinct told Taranto that any attempt at -a tug of war on his part would lead to a fatal entanglement. He dodged -away and sprinted toward the group pinning Meyers. - -A Syssokan voice yelled mushily behind him as he concentrated upon -driving with the greatest possible force into the writhing group before -him. He struck with a crunch that tumbled bodies in all directions. -Taranto himself felt sand scrape raspingly against the side of his face -as he half-rolled, half-skidded along the ground. - -His pursuers now caught up to the new location of hostilities. The -first thing Taranto saw as he managed to drag one knee under him was -the butt end of a spear plunging at his midsection. The Syssokan behind -it had his center of gravity well ahead of his churning feet, obviously -intent upon doing great bodily harm. The spacer wondered for a split -second why the native did not use his point. - -Then he twisted hips and torso to his right, drawing back his left -shoulder. As the spear passed him, he slapped down hard on the shaft -with his left hand. The butt dug into the sand, and the Syssokan hissed -in consternation as he vaulted head over heels before he could release -the weapon. The one immediately behind was caught in the center of his -harness by a flying foot, whereupon he collapsed with a groan across -the prone figure of his comrade. Two more, who had dropped their -spears, reached out toward Taranto, urged on by the officer on their -heels. - -Taranto saw Meyers stagger to his feet. Then the two Syssokans were all -over him. He skipped away to his left over a pair of limp legs, parried -a groping hand, and brought around the long, low left hook that had -made him respected in past years. - -In the ring, he had floored men with that punch. At the least, he -expected a fine, loud _whoosh_ from the Syssokan, but the latter -disappointed him. He folded in limp silence. - -For a second or two, everything stopped. Taranto stared down at the -soldier, slumped on the ground like a loose sack of potatoes. Even the -Syssokans who were not at the moment engaged in pulling themselves to -their feet also gaped. - -Light dawned for the spacer. Those among whom he had gone head-hunting -kept getting to their feet as fast as he knocked them down. - -"Hit 'em in the gut!" he yelled to Meyers. "That's where their brains -are!" - -He charged at the nearest Syssokan, lips drawn back in an unconscious -snarl. The soldier made a reflexive motion to cross his arms before his -thick abdomen. Taranto, unopposed, hit him alongside the head with a -light right, then whipped the left hook in again as the arms began to -lift. The Syssokan went out like a light. - -"Come on!" Taranto shouted at Meyers when he saw that the other had not -moved. "Two of us could do it. Those heads are too little to hold a -brain. Kick 'em, if you can't do anything else!" - -"Are you crazy?" retorted Meyers, his voice hoarse as much with fear as -with thirst. "They'll kill us! Give up, and they'll only take us back!" - -Taranto sensed someone behind him. He started to run, but two or three -recovered Syssokans headed him off. He tried to cut back to his right. -He slipped in a patch of sand and saved himself from going flat only by -catching his weight on both outstretched hands. One of the Syssokans -landed across his back, feeling blindly for a hold. - -Taranto surged up, trying to butt with the back of his head. He was -promptly wrapped in the long arms of another soldier facing him, as -the grip from the rear slid down to his waist. The fellow behind him -seemed to think he could hurt him by kneading both knobby fists into -the spacer's belly, but there was too much hard muscle there. - -The Terran again butted, forward this time, and brought up his knee. -This was less effective than it should have been, but it helped him -free one arm so that he could drive an elbow backward. - -The officer ran up with a reversed spear. From the look in his big -black eyes, Taranto realized that the Syssokan had also learned -something during the melee. That explained, no doubt, why he was an -officer. He swung the spear in a neat arc--at Taranto's head! - -It cracked against the Terran's skull. Even though he did his best to -ride with it, he felt his knees buckle. He struck out with his right -fist, but the punch was smothered by the soldier whom he had kneed. - -The spear came down again. The world of Taranto's existence was reduced -to a narrow view of a straining, greenish-gray calf showing through a -torn leg of a Syssokan uniform. Vaguely, he realized that he was on his -hands and knees. A great number of hands seemed to be grabbing at him, -and his own were very heavy as he groped out for the leg. - -He got some sort of fumbling grip, and started to haul himself up. -The slowness of his motions alarmed him, in a foggy way. He tried to -tuck his chin behind his left shoulder because he knew that there was -something ... something ... coming.... - -It came. The Syssokan officer's big foot took him behind the ear with a -brutal thump. - -Taranto, however, sinking into gray nothingness, did not really feel -it.... - - - - -ELEVEN - - -Smith stood at the corner of the corridor, leaning back every half -minute or so to peek around at the stretch leading toward the library -and communications room. - -Westervelt had propped himself with folded arms against the opposite -wall, facing the door to the stairs. - -Beryl hovered behind Parrish, who faced Smith impatiently between -darting glares at Westervelt. - -"All right, I guess I have to tell you, Pete," said Smith in a low -tone. "You might say we are temporarily inconvenienced." - -"By him?" asked Parrish, jerking a thumb in Westervelt's direction. -"That I could understand. The kid's beginning to think he's a comedian. -He started out just now playing Charley's Aunt." - -"Sssh!" said Smith softly. - -Westervelt turned his head toward the main entrance, wondering how far -Parrish's voice had carried. - -Smith's dapper assistant looked from one to the other. Seeking some -evidence of sanity, he turned with raised eyebrows to Beryl. The blonde -rounded her blue eyes at him and shrugged. - -"Pete, this is no joke," insisted Smith. "I wish it hadn't gotten -around so fast, but there it is." - -"There _what_ is?" demanded Parrish, in a tone bordering on the -querulous. - -"Well ... there's been some kind of power failure throughout the -business district. There aren't any elevators running, and we don't -know how long it will be until the power company copes with the -trouble." - -"No elevators?" repeated Parrish. - -He stared at the sliding doors of the elevator shaft as if unable to -comprehend the lack of such service. The idea seemed to sink in. - -"_No elevators?_ And ninety-nine stories _up_?" - -"Sssh!" said Smith, glancing down the corridor. - -"What's the matter with you, Castor?" asked Parrish. "Are you watching -for someone ... someone ... oh!" - -"See what I'm thinking?" asked Smith. - -They faced each other for a moment in silence. - -"Well, it ought to be all right, as long as he can get down the stairs -if he wants to," said Parrish. "I'm sorry, Beryl. We'll have to make it -some other time." - -"But how are we going to get home?" asked the blonde. - -"Oh, they'll probably have it fixed by the time we're finished here," -said Parrish. - -"Then what's all the trouble about. Why is Willie looking so sour?" - -Westervelt braced himself against the impact of three glances and tried -not to sneer. The other two men cleared their throats and looked back -at Beryl. - -"I'm going to have to ask your co-operation, Beryl," said Smith. -"First, Pete, I'd like to point out to you a little gem of modern -design. This door here is powered to slide open automatically for a -fire or other emergency." - -"Of course," said Parrish curiously. - -"But there isn't any power," Smith pointed out. - -Parrish reached out impatiently and tried the door. He wrenched at it -two or three times, then bent to peer for the latch. - -"No use, Pete," said Smith, glancing down the hall again. "Willie -already went through that whole routine. I've been on the phone to the -building manager, and there isn't anything he can do except send a -party up from the seventy-fifth floor to burn open the door from the -stair side." - -"Is he doing it?" - -"Well, frankly ... I told him it wasn't necessary," said Smith, getting -a stubborn look on his long face. - -"But you know Bob!" expostulated Parrish. "If he gets the idea that -he's penned in here--" - -"I know, I know," said Smith. "On the other hand, we can always get -something from the lab and break out from this side, provided we take -care not to let him know what is going on until later." - -Westervelt eyed Beryl sardonically. He had seldom seen an expression -so blended of impatience and vague worry. He wondered if anyone would -explain to her. - -Parrish shook his head. - -"I think it might be better to call downstairs again, and have them -come up," he said. - -"I don't want to do that," said Smith. - -"Why not?" - -"It would get around. Pretty soon, the story would be all over the -D.I.R." - -Parrish actually leaned forward slightly to study his chief's face. He -found no words, but his very expression was plaintive. Smith sighed. - -"We're in the business of springing spacers from jails all over the -explored galaxy," he said. "We're supposed to be loaded to the jets -with high-potency brainwaves and have a gadget for every purpose! How -is it going to look if we're locked in our own office and can't get out -without help?" - -Parrish threw up his hands. Pivoting, he walked loosely a few feet -along the corridor and back, squeezing his chin in the palm of one -hand. He clasped his hands behind his back, then, and peered around -Smith at the empty wing of the corridor. - -"Maybe we could dope him," he suggested, without much feeling. - -"I should have thought of that," admitted Smith, "but he's finished -eating." - -"Can't we find something in the lab to shoot a dart?" - -As Smith tried to remember, Westervelt interrupted. - -"If you decide on that, I'm not volunteering, thank you. Did you ever -see Mr. Lydman move in a hurry? Whoever tries it had better not miss -with the first dart!" - -Smith said, "Harumph!" and Parrish looked uncomfortable. The assistant -glanced momentarily at Beryl, but shook his head immediately. - -Westervelt followed his thinking. For one thing, Lydman was known to be -devoted to his wife and two children; for another, who knew how badly -Beryl might miss? - -"Now, if everyone will just keep calm," said Smith, "and we can keep -Bob busy, we'll probably get along fine until they restore power. How -long can it take, after all? They can't waste any time with a large -part of a modern city like this cut off. It's unthinkable." - -"I suppose you're right," said Parrish. - -Smith turned to Beryl. - -"What I meant by asking your co-operation," he said, "is that we'll -need to have someone with Mr. Lydman most of the time. Willie has -been doing it until now, but we don't want it to look like deliberate -surveillance." - -"But why?" asked Beryl. "I mean ... I see that it worries all of you -that ... that he might find out. But what if he does?" - -"Possibly nothing," answered Smith. "On the other hand, Mr. Lydman was -once imprisoned, in his space traveling days. He was held for a long -time under very trying conditions; and the experience has left him with -a problem. It is not _exactly_ claustrophobia...." - -He paused, as if to let Beryl recall other remarks about Lydman. Their -general air of gravity seemed to impress her. - -"I'll be ... glad to help," she said reluctantly. - -"Fine!" said Smith. "Probably nothing will be necessary. Now, I think -we had better go in and tell Si, so that everyone will be alerted to -the situation." - -Westervelt caught the glance that passed between Parrish and Beryl. He -was almost certain that each of them was mentally counting the people -who had known before _they_ had been told. - -_That's what you get for being so busy in the dead files_, he thought. - -They trouped in behind Smith. Simonetta watched as if they had been a -parade. Smith, with an occasional comment from Parrish, told her the -story. - -"So that is the partial reason for staying late," he concluded, -"although, of course, the case of Harris comes first." - -Westervelt had wandered over to a window. He adjusted the filter dial -for maximum clarity and looked out. - -From where he was, he could see a great black carpet across part of the -city, spreading out from somewhere beneath his position until it was -cut by a sharp line of street lights many blocks away. Beyond that, the -city looked normal. To the near side of the invisible boundary and, -he supposed, for a like distance in the opposite direction behind his -viewpoint, there were only sparse and faint glows of emergency lights. -Some were doubtless powered by buildings with the equipment for the -purpose, others were the lights of police and emergency vehicles on the -ground or cruising low between the taller buildings. - -_I wonder what they actually do when something like this happens?_ he -thought. _What if they think they have it fixed, turn on the juice -again, and it blows a second time?_ - -His reverie was interrupted by the sound of Simonetta's phone. From -where he was, he could see Joe Rosenkrantz's features as the operator -asked for Smith. - -"Oh, there you are, Mr. Smith," said Joe. "Pauline has been trying all -over. Trident is transmitting, and I thought you would want to be here. -They say they have a relay set up right to Harris." - -Smith let out a whoop and made for the door. - -"He'll be right there," Simonetta told the grinning TV man. - -Parrish and Westervelt trailed along. When the latter looked back, he -saw that Simonetta had replaced Beryl; and he could hardly blame the -blonde for seizing the chance to sit down and collect her thoughts. He -felt like crawling into a hole somewhere himself. - -Passing the library, Parrish cocked an eyebrow at him. Westervelt -nodded. He went in and told Lydman about the call. The ex-spacer was -interested enough to join the procession. - -When Westervelt followed him into the communications room, Joe -Rosenkrantz was explaining the set-up to Smith. - -"Like before, we go through Pluto, Capella VII, and an automatic relay -on an outer planet of the Trident system, but you won't see anything of -that. It's after we get Johnson that the fun begins." - -He leaned back in his swivel chair before the screen and surveyed the -group. - -"Johnson is gonna _think_ to a fish near his island. This fish thinks -to one swimming near Harris. They claim Harris answers." - -Smith ran both hands through his hair. - -"We try anything," he said. "Let's go!" - -Joe got in contact with Johnson, the Terran D.I.R. man, among other -things, on Trident. The latter was not quite successful in hiding an -I-told-you-so attitude. - -"Harris himself confirms that he is being held on the ocean floor," he -said. "He seems to be a sort of pet, or curiosity." - -"Can you make sense out of the messages?" asked Smith. "I mean, -is there any difficulty because of a language barrier? We don't -want to make some silly assumption and find out it was based on a -misunderstanding." - -After the weird pause caused by the mind-numbing distance, Johnson -replied. - -"There isn't any language barrier in a thought, but you might say -there's sometimes an attitude barrier. Usually, we can pick up an -equivalent meaning if we assume, for instance, that our time sense is -similar to that of these fish." - -"Well, try asking Harris how deep he is," suggested Smith. - -They watched Johnson look away, although the man did not seem to be -going through any marked effort of concentration. Hardly thirty seconds -of this had elapsed when they saw him scowl. - -"This fish off my beach can't get it through his massive intellect that -he can't think directly to another fish at your position. He thinks -you must be pretty queer not to have someone to do your thinking for -you." - -Smith turned a little red. Westervelt admired Joe Rosenkrantz's -pokerface. Johnson appeared to be insisting. - -"Harris says he is two minutes' swim under the surface," he reported. - -"Well, how far from your position, then?" asked Smith. - -The distance turned out to be a day-and-a-half swim. - -"Does he need anything? Are they keeping him under livable conditions?" - -The pause, and Johnson relayed, "They pump him air and feed him. He -needs someone to get him out." - -"How can we find him?" asked Smith. "Can he work up any way of -signaling us?" - -"You are signaling him now, he says. He wants you to get him out." - -Smith looked around him for questions. Lydman suggested asking how -Harris was confined. Smith put it to Johnson, and after the maddening -pause, got an answer. - -"He says he's in a big glass box like a freight trailer. It's like a -cage. Inside, he is free to move around, and he wants to get out." - -"Then have him tell us where it is!" snapped Smith. - -"He doesn't know," came the reply. "They move about every so often." - -"What did I say?" whispered Parrish. "Nomadic." - -No one took the time to congratulate him because Smith was asking -what the Tridentians were like. Johnson's mental connection seemed -to develop static. They saw him shake his head as if to clear it. He -turned a puzzled expression to the screen. - -"I didn't get that very plainly," he admitted. "A sort of combination -of thoughts--they feed him and they don't taste good." - -"Well, tell your fishy friend to keep his own opinions out of it," -said Smith, surprising Westervelt, who had not quite caught up to the -situation. - -Johnson, a moment later, grimaced. His expression became apologetic. - -"Don't say things like that!" he told Smith, turning again to the -screen. "It slipped through my mind as I heard you, and he didn't like -it!" - -"Who? Harris?" - -"No, the fish at his end. I apologized for you." - -There was a general restless shifting of feet in the Terran office. -Smith seemed, in the dim lighting of the communications room, to flush -a deeper shade. - -"And what does Harris say?" - -Johnson inquired. Harris requested that they get him out. - -"Goddammit!" muttered Smith. "He must be punchy!" - -"It happens," Lydman reminded him softly. - -"Yes," said Smith, after a startled look around, "but some were like -that to begin with, and his record suggests it all the way." - -He asked Johnson to get a description of the place where Harris found -himself. The answer was, in a fashion, conclusive. - -"Like any other part of the sea bottom," reported Johnson. "And, -furthermore, he's tired of thinking and wants to rest." - -"Who does?" demanded Smith. - -"They won't tell me," said Johnson, sadly. - -Smith choked off a curse, noticing Simonetta standing there. He -combed his hair furiously with both hands. No one suggested any other -questions, so he thanked Johnson and told Joe to break off. - -"At least, we know it's all real," he sighed. "He was actually taken, -and he's still alive." - -"You put a lot of faith in a couple of fish," said Lydman. - -Smith hesitated. - -"Well ... now ... they aren't really fish," he said. "Let's not build -up a mental misconception, just because we've been kidding about -'swishy the thinking fishy.' Actually, they probably wouldn't even -suggest fish to an ichthyologist, and they may be a pretty high form of -life." - -"They may be as high as this Harris," commented Parrish, and earned a -cold stare from Lydman. - -"I think I'll look around the lab," said the latter, as the others made -motions toward breaking up the gathering. - -Westervelt promptly headed for the door. He saw that Lydman was walking -around the corner of the wire mesh partition that enclosed the special -apparatus of the communications room, doubtless bent upon taking a -short-cut into the lab. - -_I want to go sit down a while before they pin me on him again_, -thought the youth. _I need fifteen minutes, then I'll relieve whoever -has him, if Smitty wants me to._ - - - - -TWELVE - - -The light, impotent after penetrating fifty fathoms of Tridentian sea, -was murky and green-tinted; but Tom Harris had become more or less used -to that. It rankled, nevertheless, that the sea-people continued to -ignore his demands for a lamp. - -He knew that they used such devices. Through the clear walls of his -tank, he had seen night parties swimming out to hunt small varieties -of fish. The water craft they piloted on longer trips and up to the -surface were also equipped with lights powered by some sort of battery. -It infuriated Harris to be forced arbitrarily to exist isolated in the -dimness of the ocean bottom day or the complete blackness of night. - -He rose from the spot where he had been squatting on his heels. So -smooth was the glassy footing that he slipped and almost fell headlong. -He regained his balance and looked about. - -The tank was about ten by ten feet and twice as long, with metal angles -which he assumed to be aluminum securing all edges. These formed the -outer corners, so that he could see the gaskets inside them that made -the tank water-tight. The sea-people, he had to admit, were quite -capable of coping with their environment and understanding his. - -The end of the tank distant from Harris was opaque. He thought that -there were connections to a towing vehicle as well as to the plant -that pumped air for him. The big fish had not made that quite clear to -him. All other sides of the tank were quite clear. Whenever he walked -about, he could look through the floor and find groups of shells and -other remnants of deceased marine life in the white sand. Occasionally, -he considered the pressure that would implode upon him should anything -happen to rupture the walls, but he had become habitually successful in -forcing that idea to the back of his mind. - -Along each of the side walls were four little airlocks. The use of -these was at the moment being demonstrated by one of the sea-people to -what Harris was beginning to think of as a child. - -The parent was slightly smaller than Harris, who stood five-feet-five -and weighed a hundred and thirty pounds Terran. It also had four -limbs, but that was about the last point they had in common. The -Tridentian's limbs all joined his armored body near the head. Two of -them ended in powerful pincers; the others forked into several delicate -tentacles. The body was somewhat flexible despite the weight of rugged -shell segments, and tapered to a spread tail upon which the crustacean -balanced himself easily. - -Harris felt at a distinct disadvantage in the vision department: each -of the Tridentians had four eyes protruding from his chitinous head. -The adult had grown one pair of eye-stalks to a length of nearly a -foot. The second pair, like both of the youngster's, extended only a -few inches. - -The Terran could not be sure whether the undersea currency consisted -of metal or shell, but the Tridentian deposited some sort of coin in a -slot machine outside one of the little airlocks. It caused a grinding -noise. Directly afterward, a small lump of compressed fish, boned, was -ejected from an opening on the inside. - -"Goddam' blue lobsters!" swore Harris. "Think they're doing me a favor!" - -He let them wait a good five minutes before he decided that the prudent -course was to accept the offering. Sneering, he walked over and picked -up the food. There was usually little else provided. On days he had -been too angry or too disgusted to accept the favors of sightseers, his -keepers assumed that he was not hungry. - -In the beginning, he had also had a most difficult time getting through -to them his need for fresh water. That was when he had come to believe -in the large, fish-like swimmer who had transmitted his thoughts to the -sea-people. The fact that the latter could and did produce fresh water -for him aroused his grudging respect, even though the taste was nothing -to take lightly. - -He juggled the lump of fish in one hand, causing the little Tridentian -to twirl his eye-stalks in glee and swim up off the ocean bottom to -look down through the top of the tank. The parent also wiggled his -eye-stalks, more sedately. Harris suspected them of laughing, and -turned his back. - -Looking through the other side of his tank, he could see--to such -distance as the murky light permitted--the parked vehicles of the -Tridentians. Like a collection of small boats, they were of sundry -sizes and shapes, depending perhaps upon each owner's fancy, perhaps on -his skill. Harris did not know whether the Tridentians' craftsmanship -extended to the level of having professional builders. At any rate, -they were spread out like a small city. Among them were tent-like -arrangements of nets to keep out swimming vermin. Other than that, the -sea-people used no shelters. - -_They were smart enough to build a cage for me!_ he thought bitterly. -_What the hell is the matter with the Terran government, anyway? That -Department of Interstellar Relations, or whatever they call it. Why -can't they get me out of here? And where did Big Fish go now?_ - -He saw several of the crustacean people approaching from the camping -area. Shortly, no doubt, he would again be a center of mass attention, -with cubes of compressed and stinking fish shooting at him from all the -little airlocks. He snarled wordlessly. - -The groups seemed to come at certain periods which he had been unable -to define. He could only guess that they had choice times for hunting -besides other work that had to be done to maintain the campsite and -their jet-propelled craft. - -_I'd like to get one of them in here and boil him!_ thought Harris. -_Big Fish claims they don't taste good. I wonder. Anyway, it would -shake them up!_ - -He had long since given up thinking about what the sea-people could do -to him if they chose. Their flushing the tank eighteen inches deep with -sea water twice a day had soon given him an idea, especially as he had -nowhere to go during the process. He no longer permitted himself to -fall asleep anywhere near the inlet pipe. - -He noticed that the dozen or so sightseers were edging around the end -of the tank to join the first individual and his offspring. Looking -up, Harris saw the reason. A long, dark shadow was curving down in an -insolently deliberate dive. It was streamlined as a Terran shark and as -long as the tank in which Harris lived. The flat line of its leading -edge split into something very like a yawn, displaying astonishing -upper and lower carpets of conical teeth. This was possible because the -eyes, about eight Harris thought, were spaced in a ring about the head -end of the long body. - -_They know I don't like to eat them, but I like to scare them a -little._ Big Fish thought to Harris. _Look at them trying to smile at -me!_ - -Harris watched the Tridentians wiggling and waving their eye-stalks as -the monster passed lazily over them and turned to come slowly back. - -"I'd like to scare them a lot," said Harris, who had learned some -time ago that he got through better just by forgetting telepathy and -verbalizing. "Is the D.I.R. man still there?" - -_Which ... what you thought?_ inquired Big Fish. - -"The other Terran, the one on the island." - -_The other air-breathing one is gone, the other Big Fish is feeding, -as I have done just now, and it is not clear about the far Terran who -lacks a Big Fish._ - -"All the bastards on both worlds are out to lunch," growled Harris, -"and here I sit!" - -_You are in to lunch_, agreed the monster. - -The three eyes that bore upon the imprisoned man as the thinker swept -past the tank had an intelligent alertness. Harris had come to imagine -that he could detect expressions on Big Fish's limited features. - -"You're the only friend I've got!" he exclaimed, slipping suddenly into -self-pity. "I wish I could go with you." - -_Once you could, when you had your own tank._ - -"It was what we call a submarine," said Harris. "I was looking to see -what was on the ocean floor. Tell me, is it all like this?" - -_Is it all like what? With blue lobsters?_ - -Harris still retained enough sanity to realize that the Tridentians did -not suggest Terran lobsters to this being who probably could not even -imagine them. That was an automatic translation of thought furnished -out of his own memory and name-calling. - -"No," he said. "I mean is it all sand and mud with a few chasms here -and there? Where do these crabs get their metals?" - -_There are different kinds of holes and hills. It is all mostly the -same. You cannot swim in it anywhere, although there are little things -that dig under the soft sand. Some of them are good to eat but you have -to spit out a lot of sand. The crabs dig with machines sometimes, in -big holes, but what they catch I do not know._ - -"Isn't there anything that catches _them_?" asked Harris bitterly. - -_No. They are big enough to catch other things, except a few. Things -that are bigger than I am are not smart._ - -The monster made a pass along the ocean bed near the Tridentians, -stirring up a cloud of sand and causing Harris's captor to shrink -against the side of his tank. The Terran laughed heartily. He clapped -the backs of his fists against his forehead above the eyes and wiggled -his forefingers at the Tridentians on the other side of the clear -barrier. - -Even after the sand had settled, he ran back and forth along the side -of his tank, making sure that every sightseer had opportunity to note -his gesture. He had an idea that they did not like it much. - -_They do not like it at all_, thought Big Fish. _Some of them are -asking for the man who lets the sea into your tank._ - -"Don't call it a man!" objected Harris, giving up his posturing. "I am -a man." - -_What else can I call these men except men?_ asked the other. _I do not -understand why you want to be called a man. You are different._ - -"Forget it," said Harris. "It was just a figure of thought." - -He felt like sitting down again, but decided against it in case -the onlookers should succeed in obtaining the services of the tank -attendant. He walked to the end of the tank, where he could stare into -the greenish distance without looking at the Tridentian camp. - -"I wish I were dead," he muttered. "They'll never get me out of here." - -Behind him, he heard the plop-plop of food tidbits landing on the floor -of the tank as the onlookers sought to regain his attention. They must -have come out of their moment of pique if they were trying to coax him -to amuse them further. - -"If I could find a bone in those hunks of fish, I'd kill myself," said -Harris. - -The dark shape of Big Fish settled over the tank, cutting off what -little light there was like a cloud. Harris looked up resentfully. - -_I do not understand you_, thought the monster. _That would be very -foolish._ - -"What--trying to commit suicide with a fish bone?" - -_No matter how, it would be extremely foolish, for then you would be -dead._ - -Harris could not think of anything to say. He could not even think of -anything to think, obviously, since none of his chaotic, half-formed -thoughts brought a response. - -_It would be as if you had been eaten_, insisted his friend. - -"All right, all right! I won't do it then, if that'll make you happy," -exclaimed Harris. - -_It has no effect on how well I feed_, Big Fish informed him. - -It took Harris a minute, but he figured it out. - -"So that's your philosophy!" he muttered to himself. "Now I know what -it takes to make you happy. Something to eat!" - -_Where?_ inquired the monster. _I do not see anyone I want to eat._ - -"Never mind!" said Harris. "Tell me more about the ocean bottom. Where -there are big holes or cliffs, can you see ... uh ... stripes in the -sides, layers of rock?" - -_Sometimes. Where it is deep enough. Other places there are things -growing to the bottom. Only little fish that are not even good to eat -do their feeding there. Sometimes the sea-people take away the growing -things or dig holes._ - -"I'll bet there are plenty of things to get out of this ocean," mused -Harris. "Who knows how the climate may have changed in thousands of -years. Maybe if there was an ice age the seas would have shrunk. Maybe -there was a volcanic age. Maybe you could drill underwater and find -oil--if you knew where to look. Maybe there are deposits of diamonds -under the ooze." - -He stopped when he sensed a vague irritation. He realized that his -thoughts had been going out and scoring the cleanest of misses. - -"It doesn't matter," he said. "Just tell me what you do know about the -sea." - -_I can tell you where to find tribes of the sea-people. I can tell you -where to find all sorts of good eating-fish. I know where to think to -other Big Fish but that I cannot tell you, for you cannot feel it._ - -The monster rose slowly through the water. He had seen something up -there that interested him, Harris knew, and would return when it -occurred to him. - -He considered the possibilities. Perhaps there was something in the -idea of building up a food industry. If you had inside tips on where -the fish were, how could you miss? Then, the Tridentians must have some -knowledge of where to find metals, since they used them. He suspected -that they had factories somewhere. - -"Come to think of it," he asked himself, "how do I know it isn't some -savage tribe that picked me up? One of these days, I may wind up with a -more advanced bunch. I'll have to ask Big Fish when he comes back." - -He began to plan what he would do if he reached some higher -civilization under the sea. Anyone with the knowledge to mine metals, -or maybe to extract them from sea water, would be interested in -contacting Terrans from another world. There would be a little trouble, -probably, in getting them to comprehend space, but some of them could -be sent up to the surface in tanks. Then there would be a need for some -Terran who knew both worlds. - -"I could wind up an ambassador!" Harris told himself. "I wonder ... -maybe I could even work it with this bunch. If I could only get out of -here! Come back in another submarine, maybe." - -He began to pace the length of his tank and back, stopping once to -gather up the fish that had been bought for him by some of the crowd -outside. He noted that the latter was constantly changing without -varying much in total number. He took to walking around the sides of -the tank, staring into each set of eyes. - -In the end, this had such a hypnotic effect that he imagined himself -swimming through the dim, greenish light. The sea-people outside began -to appear as individuals. He grew into the feeling that he could -recognize one from the other. - -He found himself running for the corner where he had collected his -fish. The sound that had triggered the reaction originated at the -opaque end of the tank. It was followed within seconds by several jets -of water, white and forceful, which entered near the floor of the -structure. - -Harris snatched up his supply of food to keep it from being washed -away. With one hand, he tried to roll up the legs of his pants. He -never seemed to be prepared when the time came, but he was constantly -too chilled to go around with the trousers rolled up all the time. - -The water swished about the calves of his legs. After a few minutes, it -began to recede as the Tridentian machinery pumped it out. Soon, the -tank was clean of everything but Harris, his fish, and the thick smell -of sea water. - -_He was good_, came a thought. _I see you are eating too._ - -A large shadow passed overhead. Most of the Tridentians wiggled their -eye-stalks in an effort to look amiable. Harris dropped his fish to the -damp floor. - -"No, I'm not eating," he said. "I'm all wet." - -_So am I_, answered Big Fish. - -"But I'm not usually," said Harris. - -_I know. It is unkind, they way they let you dry out. Would you like me -to knock in the end of the tank? You could have all the water you want._ - -"Not right now," said Harris calmly. He sat down, crossing his legs. -"I'll have to grow some gills first. It may not take much longer, at -that." - -He looked at the Tridentians, who looked in at him. Again, he felt the -sensation of being able to recognize individuals. Perhaps he should -talk to them more often through Big Fish. - -"Maybe some of them are really nice fellows," he muttered, "if I just -get to know them better." - -_No_, his friend told him, _they are not very good to eat._ - - - - -THIRTEEN - - -Time had dragged its slow way past six-thirty. The excuse of a flying -start on the Harris case had worn thin to the point of delicacy--to all -but one man. The rest of them hoped sincerely that _he_ was keeping -himself interested. - -Westervelt sat at his desk, perusing an article in _Spaceman's_ World -about the exploration of a newly discovered planetary system. It might -come up in a conference someday, he reflected, and it might be as well -to know a few facts on the subject. No life had been discovered on -any of the dozen planets, but that did not necessarily preclude the -establishment of a Terran colony in the future. The department also had -problems with colonies, as witness Greenhaven. - -He put down the magazine for a moment to review the personnel situation. - -Parrish, he remembered, had expressed his intention of retreating to -his office and putting in an hour or two of desk-heeling. Under the -circumstances, he had declared, there was little point in digging -further into the files for an idea since that was not at all their -primary purpose in staying late. Rosenkrantz, of course, was on watch -in the communications room. Smith wandered in and out. Simonetta had -taken a portable taper down to Lydman's office to help organize a -preliminary report the chief had requested from him. After she had -returned, and fallen to low-voiced gossip through the window with -Pauline, Beryl had been sent back with a number of scribbled objections -for Lydman to answer. - -Smith had spent all of five minutes thinking them up--before Simonetta -brought the original report. Westervelt wondered how soon Beryl would -return with the answers, because it would then probably be his turn to -ride herd. - -He did not regard the idea with relish. - -Smith strolled out of his office. He halted to survey the nearly empty -office with an air of vague surprise, then saw Simonetta outside -Pauline's cubicle. He went over to join the conversation. - -_I should have walked out somewhere_, thought Westervelt. _Now the door -is completely blockaded._ - -The magazine article turned dull immediately. - -Sure enough, in a few minutes Smith approached Westervelt's corner. - -"Who's on watch, Willie?" he asked, attempting a jovial wink. - -"Beryl, I think," answered the youth. "Must be--she hasn't been around." - -"She's been there quite a while," commented Smith. "I have a feeling -that it's time for a shift. How about wandering down there and edging -in?" - -"What would I say?" objected Westervelt. "He's probably dictating his -remarks and wouldn't like me hanging around." - -Smith chewed on his lower lip. - -"For the questions I sent him," he muttered thoughtfully, "five minutes -should have been enough. Goldilocks has been with him over half an -hour." - -"But he must be tired of my face," said Westervelt. - -"I don't have anyone else to send, unless you want me to think up an -excuse for Pauline. Asking him to help with her homework would be -pretty thin." - -Westervelt thought it over. Parrish, in his present mood, was not -likely to be of any help. Simonetta had just done her stint, and Joe -was needed on the space set. It would have been nice if there were a -message for Lydman to listen to, but that was wishful dreaming. - -"All right, Mr. Smith," he surrendered. "Maybe I can take along this -article and ask if he's seen it yet. If he's taking an inventory or -trying out something in the lab, I'll take my life in my hands and -volunteer to help!" - -Smith laughed. - -"It can't be that bad, Willie," he said, slapping the other on the -shoulder. - -Westervelt was not so sure, but he folded the magazine open to the -beginning of his article and went out. Pauline peered at him as he -passed. - -"Don't look like that!" he said. "You'll see me again, I hope!" - -"You might try looking a little more confident of that yourself," -Simonetta called after him. - -Westervelt turned the corner and walked slowly down the hall, trying -out more confident expressions as he went. None of them felt exactly -right. - -Passing the spare office where the dead files were kept, he heard a -sound. - -_They must have come up here for something_, he thought. _That's why it -seemed so long to Smitty._ - -He had opened the door and taken one step inside before he realized -that the room was dark. Without thinking, he reached out to flip the -light switch. - -Beryl Austin leaped to her feet with a flash of thigh that hardly -registered on Westervelt in the split-second of his astonishment. Then -he saw that she had not been alone on the settee that stood beside the -door. Parrish rose beside her. - -The suddenness of their movements and the ferocity of their combined -stares had the impact of a stunning blow upon Westervelt. The -implications of the blonde's slightly disheveled appearance, however, -were obvious. - -He could not, for a moment, think at all. Then he began to have a -feeling that he ought to say something to cover his escape. Beneath -that, somewhere, surged the conviction that he had nothing to -apologize for. In the face of such hostility and tension, it called for -a lot of courage. - -"You little sneak!" spat Beryl. - -Westervelt noted with a certain detachment that her voice had turned -shrill. Not knowing of anything else to do, he stared as she tugged -her dress into place. This seemed to outrage her more than anything -he could have said. He also saw the gleam of Parrish's teeth, and the -grimace was not even remotely a smile. The man took a step to place -himself before Beryl. - -"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Parrish, with a good deal -more feeling than originality. - -Westervelt had been wondering what to say to that when it came, as was -inevitable. A dozen half-expressed answers flitted through his mind. - -_How do you get out of a thing like this?_ he asked himself -desperately. _You'd think it was me that did it!_ - -Before he could explore the implications of his choosing the words "did -it," Beryl found her voice again. - -"Get out of here!" she shrilled. "Who told you to come poking in?" - -"I heard a noise," said Westervelt, conscious that his voice sounded -odd. "I thought it was Mr. Lydman." - -"Do I look like Lydman?" demanded Parrish, not raising his voice as -much as Beryl had. "There wasn't any light, was there? Did you think -he'd be sitting in here in the dark?" - -The possibility charged the atmosphere like static electricity. -Actually, mere mention of it made Westervelt feel better because it -sounded so much like what he might have found. - -"How did I know?" he retorted. "I thought Beryl was with him. Why -should I expect _you_? You said you weren't going to dig any further in -here." - -Beryl had been smoothing her still-perfect coiffure. Now she stiffened -as much as Parrish. Westervelt sensed that his choice of words might -have been unfortunate. - -"Well, who is with him?" he demanded, before they could say anything. - -The question galvanized Parrish into action. He stepped forward to meet -Westervelt face to face. - -"If you're so worried about that, why don't you go find him?" he -sneered. "For my money, you two make a good match." - -"Maybe I will," said Westervelt hotly. "_You_ two don't seem to care -about what's going on. If you'll just excuse me, I'll turn out the -light and--" - -"Oh, cut out the speech-making!" requested Beryl. "Get out of the -door, Willie, and let me out of here. I'm tired of the whole incident." - -"Now, wait a minute, Beryl!" protested Parrish. - -"Yeah," said Westervelt, "you'd better check. Your lipstick is really -smudged this time." - -"Shut up, you!" Parrish snapped. - -He took Beryl by the shoulders and pulled her back. She pulled herself -free peevishly. Westervelt leaned against the wall and curled a lip. - -"Enough is enough!" she said. "Let me out of here!" - -"You forgot to smile," Westervelt told Parrish. - -The man turned on him and reached out to seize a handful of his -shirtfront. Westervelt straightened up, alarmed but willing to consider -changing the smooth mask of Parrish's face. Beryl was shrilling -something about not being damned fools, when she stopped in the middle -of a word. - -Parrish also grew still. The forearm Westervelt had crossed over the -hand grabbing at his shirt fell as Parrish let him go. The man was -staring over Westervelt's shoulder. He looked almost frightened. - -Westervelt looked around--and a thrill shot through him, like the shock -of diving into icy water. - -Lydman was standing there, staring through him. - -When he looked again, as he shrank instinctively away from the doorway, -he realized that the ex-spacer was staring through all of them. After a -moment, he seemed to focus on Beryl. - -"They'll let you out, I think," he said in his quiet voice. - -Parrish stepped back nervously, and Westervelt edged further inside -the doorway to make room. Beryl did not seem to have heard. She gaped, -hypnotized by the beautiful eyes set in the strong, tanned face. - -Lydman put the palm of one hand against Westervelt's chest and shoved -slowly. It was as well that the file cabinet behind the youth was -nearly empty, because it slid a foot along the floor as his back -flattened against it. Lydman reached out his other hand and took Beryl -gently by the elbow. - -She stepped forward, turning her head from side to side as if to seek -reassurance from either Parrish or Westervelt, but without completely -meeting their eyes. Lydman led her into the hall and released her elbow. - -She started uncertainly up the corridor toward the main office. Lydman -fell in a pace or two behind her. - -Westervelt heard a gasp. He looked at Parrish and realized that he had -been holding his breath too. Then, by mutual consent, they followed the -others out into the hall. - -"Listen, Willie," whispered Parrish, watching the twenty-foot gap -between them and Lydman's broad shoulders, "we have to see that she -doesn't forget and try to leave. If he won't let me talk to her, you'll -have to get her attention." - -"Okay, I'll try," murmured Westervelt. "Look--I was really looking for -him I never meant to--" - -"I never meant to either," said Parrish. "Forget it!" - -"It was none of my business. I should have shut up and left. Tell her -I'm sorry when you get a chance; she'll probably never speak to me -again." - -He wondered if he could get Smith's permission to move his desk. On -second thought, he wondered if he would come out of this with a desk to -move. - -"Sure she will," said Parrish. "She's really just a good-natured kid. -It wasn't anything serious. You startled us, that was all." - -Beryl and Lydman turned the corner, leaving the two followers free to -increase their pace. They rounded the corner themselves in time to see -Lydman going through the double doors. - -"It was too bad he came along when she was yelling to be let out," said -Parrish. "He didn't understand." - -"You mean he actually thought we were trying to keep her there against -her will?" asked Westervelt. - -"Well, we were, I suppose, or at least I was. He doesn't seem to think -any further than that in such situations. If someone is being held -against his will, that's enough for Bob. Did you know Smitty had to -post a bond for him?" - -"A bond!" repeated Westervelt. "What for?" - -"They caught him a couple of times, trying out his new gadgets around -the city jail. I'll tell you about it sometime." - -Parrish fell silent as they reached the entrance to the main office. -Beryl had gratefully stopped to speak to the first person in sight, -which happened to be Pauline. As Parrish and Westervelt arrived, she -was offering to take over the switchboard for twenty minutes or so. - -"Oh, I didn't mean you had to drop everything," Pauline was protesting. -"I just meant ... when you get the chance...." - -She eyed Lydman curiously, then looked to the late arrivals. The -silly thought that Joe Rosenkrantz must feel awfully lonely crossed -Westervelt's mind, and he had to fight down a giggle. - -"You really should get out of there for a while," advised Lydman, -studying the size of Pauline's cubbyhole. "Sit outside a quarter of an -hour at least, and let your mind spread out." - -"Well, if it's really all right with you, Beryl?" - -"I'm only too glad to help," said Beryl rapidly. - -She wasted no time in rounding the corner to get at the door. -Westervelt closed his eyes. He found it easy to envision Pauline -tangling with her on the way out and causing Lydman to start all over -again. - -The girls managed without any such catastrophe. Pauline headed for the -swivel chair behind the unused secretarial desk. - -"You ought to leave that door open," Lydman called to Beryl. "If it -should stick, there's hardly any air in there. You'd feel awfully -cramped in no time." - -"Thank you," said Beryl politely. - -She left the door open, sat down, and picked up Pauline's headset. From -the set of her shoulders, it did not seem that much light conversation -would be forthcoming from that quarter. - -Westervelt stepped further into the office, and saw that Smith was -standing in his own doorway, rubbing his large nose thoughtfully. The -youth guessed that Simonetta had signalled him. - -Parrish cleared his throat with a little cough. - -"Well," he said, "I'll be in my office if anyone wants me." - -Rather than pass too close to Lydman, he retreated into the hall to use -the outside entrance to his office. The ex-spacer paid no attention. - -Westervelt decided that he would be damned if he would go through -Parrish's office and back into this one to get at his desk. He walked -around the projection of the switchboard cubicle and sat down with a -sigh at his own place. He leaned back and looked about, to discover -that Lydman had gone over to say a few words to Smith. Pauline glanced -curiously from Westervelt to the two men, then began to shop among a -shelf of magazines beside the desk of the vacationing secretary. - -After a few minutes, Lydman turned and went out the door. Westervelt -tried to listen for footsteps, but the resilient flooring prevented him -from guessing which way the ex-spacer had gone. - -He saw Smith approaching, and went to meet him. - -"I've changed my mind," said the chief. "For a little bit, anyway, -we'll leave him alone. He said he was sketching up some gizmo he wants -to have built, and needed peace and quiet." - -"Did he say we ... were talking too loud?" asked Westervelt, looking at -the doorway rather than meet Smith's eye. - -"No, that was all he said," answered Smith. - -There was a questioning undertone in his voice, but Westervelt chose -not to hear it. After a short wait, Smith asked Simonetta to bring her -taper into his office. He mentioned that he hoped to phone for some -technical information. Westervelt watched them leave, then sank down on -the corner of the desk at which Pauline was relaxing. - -Beryl turned around in her chair. - -"Pssst! Pauline!" she whispered. "Is he gone?" - -"They all left--except Willie," the girl told her. - -Beryl shut the door promptly. The pair left in the office heard her -turn the lock with a brisk snap. - -"What's the matter with her?" murmured Pauline. - -"Nothing," said Westervelt glumly. "Why don't you take a nap, or -something?" - -"I'd like to," said Pauline. "It's going on seven o'clock and who knows -when we'll get out of here?" - -"Shut up!" said Westervelt. "I mean ... uh ... don't bring us bad luck -by talking about it. Take a nap and let me think!" - -"All you big thinkers!" jeered Pauline. "What I'd really like to do is -go down to the ladies' room and take a shower, but you always kid me -about Mr. Parrish maybe coming in with fresh towels for the machine." - -"I lied to you, Pauline," said Westervelt. "The charwoman brings them." - -"Well, I could always hope," giggled Pauline. - -"Not tonight," said Westervelt "Believe me, kid, you're safer than -you'll ever be!" - - - - -FOURTEEN - - -Pauline came back in a quarter of an hour, her youthfully translucent -skin glowing and her ash-blonde curls rearranged. She glanced through -the window at Beryl, who was nervously punching a number for an outside -call. - -"What's going on?" she asked Westervelt, who sat with his heels on the -center desk. - -"Mr. Smith is calling a couple of engineers he knows," Simonetta told -her. - -Westervelt had just heard it, when Simonetta had emerged with a tape to -transcribe. He had started to mention that it might be better to phone -a psychiatrist, but had bitten back the remark. - -_For all I know_, he reflected, _they might take me away! Everything I -remember about today can't really have happened. If it did, I wish it -hadn't!_ - -He recalled that he had been phoned at home to hop a jet for London -that morning. He had found the laboratory which had made the model of -the light Smith was interested in, and been on his way back without -time for lunch. Now that the jets were so fast, meals were no longer -served on them, and he had had to grab a sandwich upon returning. Then -there had been those poor fried eggs. That was all--no wonder he was -feeling hungry again! - -_I should have missed the return jet_, he thought bitterly. _I didn't -know where I was well off! Why did I have to walk in there? I might -have had the sense to go look in Bob's office first._ - -He decided that Pauline, now chatting with Simonetta, looked refreshed -and relaxed. Perhaps he ought to do the same. - -The idea, upon reflection, continued to appear attractive. Westervelt -rose and walked out past the switchboard. Beryl was too busy to see -him. He made his way quietly to the rest room, which he found empty. He -was rather relieved to have avoided everyone. - -At one side of the room was a door leading to a shower. The -appointments of Department 99 were at least as complete as those of -any modern business office of the day. Westervelt stepped into a tiny -anteroom furnished with a skimpy stool, several hooks on the wall, and -a built-in towel supplier. - -Prudently, he set the temperature for a hot shower on the dial outside -the shower compartment, and punched the button that turned on the water. - -_Just in case all the trouble has affected the hot water supply_, he -thought. - -As he undressed, he was reassured by the sight of steam inside the -stall. Another thought struck him. He locked the outer door. He did -not care for the possibility of having Lydman imagine that he was -trapped in here. It would be just his luck to be "assisted" out into -the corridor, naked and dripping, at the precise moment it was full of -staff members on their way to the laboratory. - -He slid back the partly opaqued plastic doors and stepped with a sigh -of pleasure under the hot stream. Ten minutes of it relaxed him to the -point of feeling almost at peace with the world once more. - -"I ought to finish with a minute or two of cold," he told himself, "but -to hell with it! I'll set the air on cool later." - -He pushed the waterproof button on the inside of the stall to turn -off the water, opened the narrow doors, and reached out to the towel -dispenser. The towel he got was fluffy and large, though made of paper. -He blotted himself off well before turning on the air jets in the stall -to complete the drying process. - -Having dressed and disposed of the towel through a slot in the wall, -he glanced about to see if he had forgotten anything. The shower -stall had automatically aired itself, sucking all moisture into the -air-conditioning system; and looked as untouched as it had at his -entrance. - -Westervelt strolled out into the rest room proper, thankful that the -lock on the anteroom door had not chosen that moment to stick. He -stretched and yawned comfortably. Then he caught sight of his tousled, -air-blown hair in a mirror. He fished in his pocket for coins and -bought another hard paper comb and a small vial of hair dressing from -dispensers mounted on the wall. He took his time spraying the vaguely -perfumed mist over his dark hair and combing it neatly. - -That task attended to, he stole a few seconds to study the reflection -of his face. It was rather more square about the jaw than Smith's, he -thought, but he had to admit that the nose was prominent enough to -challenge the chief's. No one had thought to equip the washroom with -adjustable mirrors, so he gave up twisting his neck in an effort to see -his profile. - -"Well, that's a lot better!" he said, with considerable satisfaction. -"Now if I can hook another coffee out of the locker, it will be like -starting a new day. Gosh, I hope it's a better one, too!" - -He walked lightly along the corridor to the main office, exaggerating -the slight resilience of the floor to a definite bounce in his step. -Outside the office, he met Beryl coming out. He felt himself come down -on his heels immediately. - -Beryl eyed him enigmatically, glanced over his shoulder to check that -he was alone, and swung away toward the opposite wing. Westervelt -hurried after her. - -"Look, Beryl!" he called. "I wanted to say ... that is ... about -before--" - -Beryl turned the corner and kept walking. - -"Wait just a second!" said Westervelt. - -He tried to get beside her to speak to something besides the back of -her blonde head, but she was a tall girl and had a long stride. He -hesitated to take her by the elbow. - -Beryl stopped at the door to the library. - -"Please take note, Willie," she said coldly, "that the light is on -inside and I am all alone." - -_At least she spoke_, thought Westervelt. - -"I have come down here for a little peace and quiet," she informed him. -"I hope you didn't intend to learn how to read at this hour of the -night." - -"Aw, come on!" protested Westervelt. "It was an accident. Could I help -it?" - -"Being the way you are, I suppose not," admitted Beryl judiciously. -"Why don't you go elsewhere and be an accident again?" - -"I'm trying to say I'm sorry," said Westervelt, feeling a flush -spreading over his features. "I don't know why I have to apologize, -anyway. It wasn't _me_ in there, filing away in the dark!" - -Beryl looked down her nose at him as if he were a Mizarian asking where -he could have his chlorine tank refilled. - -"Is that the story you're telling around?" she demanded icily. - -"I'm not telling--" Westervelt realized he was beginning to yell, and -lowered his voice. "I'm not telling any story around. Nobody knows -anything about it except you and I and Pete. Bob couldn't have seen -anything." - -Beryl shrugged, a small, disdainful gesture. Westervelt wondered why he -had allowed himself to get into an argument over the matter, since it -was obvious that he was making things worse with every word. - -"I don't know why you should be so sore about it," he said. "Even Pete -said to me I should forget about it." - -"Oh, you two have been talking it over!" Beryl accused. "Pretty clubby! -Do you take over for him on other things too?" - -Westervelt threw up his hands. - -"You don't seem to mind anything about it except that I should know you -were in there with him," he retorted. "If he was so acceptable, why am -I a disease? Nobody ever left this office on account of me!" - -"It could happen yet," said Beryl. - -"Oh, hell! The trouble with you is you need a little loosening up." - -He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her toward him. Slipping his -left arm behind her back as she tried to kick his ankle, he kissed her. -The result was spoiled by Beryl's turning her face away at the crucial -instant. Westervelt drew back. - -The next thing he knew, lights exploded before his right eye. He had -not even seen her hand come up, or he would have ducked. He saw it as -he stepped back, however. Despite a certain feminine delicacy, the hand -clenched into a very capable little fist. - -Beryl took one quick stride into the library. - -"I don't like to keep hinting around," she said, "but maybe that will -play itself back in your little mind." - -She slammed the door three inches from his nose. Westervelt raised a -hand to open it, then changed his mind and felt gingerly of his eye. It -hurt, but with a sort of surrounding numbness. - -Realizing that he could see after all, he looked up and down the -corridor guiltily. It seemed very quiet. - -_Right square in the peeper!_ he thought ruefully. _She couldn't have -aimed that well: it must have been a lucky shot. I ought to go in there -and belt her!_ - -It was not something he really wanted to do. He could not foresee any -pleasure or satisfaction in carrying matters to the extent of open war. - -_You lost again, Willie_, he argued. _You might as well take it like a -man. She got annoyed at something you said, like as not, and it was too -late when you began._ - -He prodded gently at his eye again, and decided that the numb sensation -was being caused by the tightening of skin over a growing mouse. - -He set off up the corridor, passed the main door with his face averted, -and hurried down to the washroom before someone should come along. - -Spying out the land through a cautiously opened door, he discovered -the place unoccupied. In the mirror, the eye showed definite signs of -blossoming. The eyebrow was all right, but the orb itself was bloodshot -and tearing freely. Beneath it, the flesh above the cheekbone was pink -and puffy. - -"Ohmigod!" breathed Westervelt. "It'll be blue tomorrow! Probably -purple and green, in fact. Or does it take a day or two to reach that -stage?" - -He ran cold water into a basin and splashed it over his face, holding a -palmful at a time against the damaged eye. - -When this did not seem sufficiently effective, he wadded a soft paper -towel, soaked it in running water, and applied it until it lost its -chill. - -"Am I doing right?" he wondered. "I can never remember whether it's hot -or cold you're supposed to use." - -He thought about it while holding the slowly disintegrating towel to -his eye. Someone had told him, as nearly as he could recall, that -either way helped, depending upon when heat or cold was applied. - -"I guess it must be that you use cold before it has time to swell," -he muttered. "Keep the blood from going into the tissues--that must -be it. But if you're too late for that, then heat would keep it from -stiffening. Now, the question is, did I start in time?" - -He examined the eye. It did not feel too sore, but it was still red and -slightly swollen. The flow of tears had stopped, so he decided there -was little more he could do. He dried his face and walked out into the -corridor, blinking. - -_The com room is pretty dim_, he thought. - -He went to the laboratory door and opened it quietly. The room was dark -and unoccupied. Westervelt swore to himself that if he stumbled over -anyone this time, he would punch every nose he could reach without -further ado. Unless, he amended the intention, he ran into Lydman. - -He was squeamish about turning on a light, which left him the problem -of groping his way through the maze of tables, workbenches, and stacks -of cartons. He set down for future conversation the possibility of -claiming that the department was as normal as any other business; it -too possessed the typical, messy back room out of range of the front -office. - -He had negotiated about half the course when he felt a cool breeze. -At first, he thought it must come from an air-conditioning diffuser, -but it blew more horizontally. Someone must have opened a window, he -decided, or perhaps broken one trying out a dangerous instrument. - -He succeeded in reaching the far wall, where he felt around for the -door leading to the communications room. This was over near the outside -wall, but he reached it without bumping into more than two or three -scattered objects. - -Once through the door, he could see better because a little light was -diffused past the wire-mesh enclosure around the power equipment. He -walked along the short passage formed by this, turned a corner, and -came in sight of Joe Rosenkrantz sitting before his screen. - -"Hello, Joe," he greeted the operator. - -The other jumped perceptibly, looking around at the door. - -"It's Willie," said Westervelt. "I came around the other way." - -He was pleased to find that Rosenkrantz had the room as dimly lighted -as was customary among the TV men. Joe stared for a moment at him and -Westervelt feared that the other's vision was too well adjusted to the -light. - -"I didn't think anybody but Lydman used that way much," said -Rosenkrantz. - -"It's a short-cut," said Westervelt evasively. - -He found a spare chair to sit in and inquired as to what might be new. - -Rosenkrantz told him of putting through a few calls to planets near -Trident, asking D.I.R. men stationed on them to line up spaceships for -possible use, either to go after Harris or to ship necessary equipment -for plumbing the ocean. He offered to let Westervelt scan the tapes of -his traffic. - -"That's a good idea," said the youth gratefully. "Even if I don't spot -an opening, it will look like useful effort." - -"Yeah," agreed the other. "Time drags, doesn't it. Wonder how they're -making out down in the cable tunnels?" - -"It can't last much longer." - -"That's what this here Harris is saying too, I should think. Now, -_there's_ one guy who is really packed away!" - -"Well...." - -"Oh, they've pulled some good ones around here, but I have a feeling -about this one," insisted the operator. "I'd bet ten to one they won't -spring Harris." - -Westervelt took the tapes to a playback screen and dragged his chair -over. - -"I told Smitty they ought to offer to swap for him," he said. "At the -time, I meant it looked like the perfect way to unload undesirables. -Come to think of it, though, I wouldn't mind going myself." - -"What the hell for?" asked Rosenkrantz. - -Westervelt realized that he had nearly given himself away. - -"Oh ... just for the chance to see the place," he said. "Nobody else -has ever seen these Tridentians. How else could somebody like me get a -position as an interstellar ambassador." - -"Maybe Harris wants the job for himself. He sure went looking for it!" - -The phone buzzed quietly. Rosenkrantz answered, then said, "It's for -you." - -Westervelt went to the screen. It was Smith. - -"I thought you must have found a way out, Willie. Where did you get to?" - -Westervelt explained that he was looking at the tapes of the Trident -calls, to familiarize himself with the background. - -"I figured there was plenty of time for me to--" He broke off as he -saw Rosenkrantz straighten up to focus in a call from space. "Joe is -receiving something right now. I'll let you know if it has anything to -do with Trident." - -"Department 99, Terra," the operator was saying when Westervelt turned -from the phone, as if the mere call signal had not satisfied the party -at the other end. - -There seemed to be a lot of action on the screen. Men were running -in various directions in what appeared to be a large hall with an -impressive stairway. - -"Yoleen!" Rosenkrantz flung over his shoulder. "Tell Smitty!" - -"Mr. Smith!" said Westervelt, turning back to the phone screen. "Joe -says it's Yoleen coming in. Maybe you'd like to see it yourself. -Something looks wrong." - -"Coming!" said Smith, and the phone went dark. - -Westervelt looked around to see that most of the running figures had -hidden themselves. A voice was coming over, and he listened with the -operator. - -"... knocked apart so I have to use one of the observation lenses they -have planted around the embassy. He's shooting up the place good!" - -"I'm taping until someone gets here," said Rosenkrantz. "Better tell me -what happened, just in case." - -_Yoleen_, thought Westervelt. _That would be ... let me see ... Gerson, -the kidnap case. Do they mean that he's shooting them up?_ - -"... and after he left me with this mess, in the com room, he headed -for the stairs," said the voice of the unseen operator. "He seems to be -trying to get out of the embassy. We don't know why--the boys got him -there without any trouble." - -"Was he all right?" asked Rosenkrantz, cocking an ear at the door. - -"He looked pretty sick, as if he wasn't eating well, and he had a -broken wrist. They took him along to the doctor with no trouble. Then -the chief went up to see how he was and found Doc out cold on the -floor. He set up a yell, naturally. Someone finally caught up with -Gerson in the military attache's office." - -"What did he want there?" asked Rosenkrantz. - -"We don't know yet. He left a corpse for us that isn't answering -questions." - - - - -FIFTEEN - - -In the building to which the two terrans had brought him, Gerson -crouched behind the ornate balustrade edging the mezzanine. He was near -the head of the stairway and hoped to get nearer. - -A look down the hall behind him showed no unwary heads in view. He -studied the sections of the hall below, which he could see through the -openings in the railing. There had been a great scrambling about down -there a moment earlier, so he was uneasy about showing himself. - -He had armed himself as chance provided: a rocket pistol of Yoleenite -manufacture--doubtless purchased as a souvenir--and a sharp knife from -a dinner tray he had come upon in one of the rooms he had searched. -Because of his injury, he had to grip the knife between his teeth. -Something bothered him about this arrangement. He had the papers thrust -in his shirt, he held the rocket pistol in one hand, one hand was -hurt--yet the only way left to hold the knife was in his teeth. It did -not seem exactly right, but he had had no time to ponder. The Terrans -were keeping him busy. - -Since he had been brought to this building, he had seen four threes of -Terrans. One, the medical worker, he had rendered helpless. Then he had -gone to search for secrets, and that other one had seen him. By that -time, he had found the rocket pistol. He had left that Terran dead, but -others had come running. - -Something had told him to shoot up the communications equipment, -although the Terran working it had escaped. He was somewhere behind -Gerson, behind one of the many doors leading off that high, bright -corridor. - -He believed that he had seen one other duck into a doorway ahead of -him, along the hall on the other side of the mezzanine. There was yet -another hiding behind the opposite balustrade. Gerson wondered idly if -the last one was armed. - -He tried to review the probable positions of those on the main floor. -One had definitely run out the front door, which faced the bottom -of the broad stairway, about thirty feet away. There was a shallow -anteroom there, but Gerson had seen him all the way across it. - -Of the others, one had ducked into a chamber at the front of the main -hall, to Gerson's left as he would be descending the stairs. Another -had run back under cover of the stairway on the same side, and the -remaining four were lurking somewhere to the right, either behind the -stairs or in adjoining chambers. - -He leaned closer to the balustrade in an effort to see more. In the -act, his injured limb came in contact with the barrier and made him -grimace in pain. The drug the Terran medical worker had shot into it -was wearing off. - -Since he had made a slight noise already, Gerson crawled along about -ten feet until he was just beside the head of the stairs. He made -himself quiet to listen. - -Somewhere below, two of the embassy staff were talking cautiously. It -might be a good time to catch them unawares. He rose and took a step -toward the stairs. - -A voice that sounded artificially loud spoke in one or another of the -lower chambers. It had a slight echo, making it nearly impossible for -Gerson to determine the direction. The Terran who had ducked into the -room on the left appeared, raising a weapon of some kind. - -Gerson blazed a rocket in his direction. The slim missile, the length -and thickness of the two top joints of his thumb, left a smoky trail -just above the stairway railing and blew a large hole in the wall -beside the doorway where the staff man had been standing. Somehow, the -fellow had leaped back in time to avoid the flying specks of metal and -plaster. - -Gerson knelt behind the balustrade again, shaken by the sense of new -pain, and wondering at its source. He concentrated. After a moment, he -felt the wetness trickling dawn his left side. Some small object had -grazed the flesh; and he realized that it must have been a solid pellet -projected by the weapon of the Terran at whom he had shot. - -He knew that the Terrans had more dangerous weapons than that, but -had been confident that they would dare nothing over-violent here -within their own building. The pistol used against him must be an -old-fashioned one or a keepsake. Possibly it was a mock weapon built -for practicing at a target. He seemed to remember vaguely having -handled such a thing in the past. - -He strained after the fleeting memory, clenching his teeth with the -effort, but it was gone. So many memories seemed to be gone. All he was -sure of was that he must get out of here with those papers. - -He checked the upper hall again, before and behind. He looked -across the open space for the Terran hiding like himself behind the -balustrade, but could not find him. It might or might not be worthwhile -to send a shot over there at random. If he missed, he might at least -scare the fellow. - -The loud voice with the mechanical sound to it blared out from below. - -"Gerson!" it called. "Gerson, throw down your weapon and stand up. We -can see where you are. We want to help you." - -Gerson showed no reaction. Analyzing the statement, he reminded himself -that one Terran had shot him. Not very seriously, it was true, but -it was not in the nature of help. Either the voice lied or it had no -control over the individual who had fired at him. - -He did not blame it for the presumable untruth, since he was not -deceived by it. It would be preferrable to kill the man who had shot -him, but he must bear in mind that his main task was to get out of the -building. - -"Gerson!" called the voice again. "We know you are injured. You are a -sick man. We beg you to drop your weapon and let us help you!" - -Gerson wondered what the voice meant by the expression "sick." - -It was possible that someone had seen him wounded by the last shot. Or -did they mean his sore limb. It occurred to him then that the blood -that had run out and dried on the right side of his face must be -clearly visible. The Terran he had killed back along the corridor had -flung a small ceramic dish at him, and Gerson had been slow in raising -his injured limb to block it. The whole side of his face was sore, but -the skin of his cheek no longer bled so it was a matter of opinion -whether he was sick on that account. - -The voice must mean the last wound, when it called him sick. That meant -that the Terran he had shot at was the voice or that there was another -Terran in the room with him. Gerson did not think that any of the -others could have seen. Some doubt at the back of his mind struggled to -suggest an oversight, but he knew of none. - -He peered once more between the balusters, and this time he saw a -motion, a mere shadow, across the way. Instantly, he stood up and -launched a rocket at the spot. It streaked on its way and exploded -immediately against one of the uprights. Gerson regretted fleetingly -that it had not gone through and struck against the wall beyond, -which would have accounted for the skulking Terran with a good deal -of certainty. As the baluster disintegrated, leaving stubs at top and -bottom, Gerson started down the stairs. - -Yells sounded from below. He threw one leg up to mount the stair -railing, leaned back along it, and let himself slide. The rocket -pistol, waving wildly at arm's length in his left hand, helped him to -balance. He reached the landing at the middle of the stairs in one -swoop. - -The human at whom he had shot reappeared in the same doorway. Gerson -rolled to his left, felt both feet hit upon the landing, and let go -another missile. It was too late; the Terran had not even lingered to -fire back. It seemed almost like a feint to distract. - -"_Gerson!_" blared the mechanical voice. - -"Gerson! Gerson!" shouted other voices. - -They came from many directions, and he was unable to comprehend them -all. He had reached a point near the bottom of the stairway, running -three steps at a time, when a louder yell directed his attention to -the doorway on his right. The figure of a Terran showed there. - -Without breaking his stride, he whipped his left hand across his body -and fired a rocket. He had a glimpse of the figure dodging aside before -the smoke and dust of the explosion told him he had nicked the edge of -the doorway. - -It seemed to him that he must have shot the Terran as well, and he let -his eye linger there an instant as he reached the floor of the hall. -Thus, he saw the figure reappear and was in position to fling two more -shots with animal quickness. - -The figure was blown straight backward this time, but Gerson had time -to realize that there had been no head on it when it had been thrust -out. - -His first shot must have done that. All told, he had wasted three -missiles on a dummy. - -Then the loop of rope fell about him, and he knew why he had been lured -into facing this direction. He tried to bring the rocket pistol to -bear on the three Terrans running at him from behind the stairway. The -fourth, at the end of the rope, heaved Gerson off his feet. - -He crashed down upon his sore limb, letting out a groan at the impact. -One of the runners dove headlong at him, batting at the pistol as he -slid past on the polished floor. Gerson felt the weapon knocked out of -his grasp. It rattled and scraped along the floor out of reach, but he -kicked the one who had done it in the head. - -Two of the Terrans were trying to hold him down, now. He got the knife -from his mouth into his left hand, let a Terran see it, then bit him -viciously on the wrist. The Terran let go, and Gerson found it simple -to knee the remaining one in the groin. He rolled over to get a knee -under him, pushed himself up with the fist gripping the knife, and saw -Terrans running at him from all directions. - -One of them had a broad, white bandage on his head. Gerson recognized -him as the medical worker. The man carried a hypodermic syringe. - -Unreasoning terror swept through Gerson. He knew that he must, at all -costs, avoid that needle. - -He whirled around to slash at the men coming up behind him. The nearest -fell back warily. - -"Put it away, Gerson," he said. "We don't want to hurt you, man! Why, -you're half dead on your feet." - -"What's the matter?" asked another, more softly. "We can see that -you're not normal. What did those bastards do to you?" - -Gerson looked from side to side, seeing them closing in but unable to -spot an opening for a charge. - -"Just listen to me a minute," said the medical worker. He made the -mistake of holding the hypodermic out of sight this time, too late. -"Gerson, talk to me! Say something! Whatever the trouble is, we'll help -you." - -It was the only opening. - -Gerson took a carefully hesitant step toward him, then another. He held -up his damaged limb. - -"Yes, your wrist is broken," said the Terran. "I was going to put a -cast on it for you, remember. Now, just relax, and we'll take care of--" - -He saw Gerson's eyes and leaped back. - -The knife swept up in a vicious arc that would have disemboweled him. - -Without wasting the motion, Gerson slashed down and left at another -as he plunged forward. The point grazed an up-flung arm, drawing a -startled curse from the victim. - -"Tackle him!" shouted one of the Terrans. - -"Careful! He's already hurt bad enough," cautioned another. - -Gerson tried to feint and throw his weight in the opposite direction, -but his legs would not obey him. He recovered from the slip only to -have one of the men push him from behind. - -Someone clamped a tight hold on his left forearm as he staggered. A -moment later they twisted the knife out of his grasp and bore him to -the floor. He kicked ineffectively and then caught one of them by -surprise with a butt. - -The man recoiled, blood spurting already from his nose. He brought his -fist around despite warning yells, and clipped Gerson on the temple. - -"Hold him, dammit!" shouted someone. "Get that rope over here. Do you -want to kill him? Just hold him still." - -"You try it," invited one of those holding Gerson pinned. - -"I think he's weakening," said another. "Watch out--he may be playing -possum." - -The talk seemed to come from far away. Gerson felt them tie his ankles -together. They hesitated about his hands; one was injured. One voice -suggested tieing his left wrist to the stairway railing, but it was -decided that they could watch him well enough as long as he could not -run. The weight lessened as those pinning him arose to look to their -own bruises. Gerson was vaguely surprised to discover that all of them -were off him. He still felt as if great weight were holding him pressed -against the floor. He found it difficult to catch his breath. - -They had taken the papers from his shirt, he noted. One of the Terrans -passed them to a man in a dark uniform, who began to leaf through them -worriedly. - -A Terran came in through the front door. - -"Have you got him?" the newcomer asked. "That helicopter is still -floating around up there. I've been watching it for half an hour with -the night glasses. They sure as hell are waiting for something." - -"And there isn't anyone else in this neighborhood they could be -interested in," said a deeper voice. "Well, MacLean, what did you let -him get his hands on from your secret file?" - -Gerson rolled over very quietly and started to drag himself along the -floor. He had actually moved a yard before they noticed him. - -They were gentle about turning him on his back again. The discussion -about the papers was dropped while the medical worker cut his shirt -away from the bleeding wound in his side. Hushed comments were made, -but Gerson paid no attention. He was concerned with the fact that one -of the Terrans had planted a foot between his legs, above the rope -around his ankles, so that he was quite securely anchored to the spot. - -"Looks like a broken rib besides," said the Terran examining him. "Do -you think we could get him upstairs?" - -"I'm no doctor," said the deeper voice, "but even I can see you'd never -make it in time." - -The voice came closer, though the vision in Gerson's eyes was blurring. - -"Tell me, boy, what happened? How did they make you do it? What do they -want?" - -"Gerson!" said the man in the dark uniform. "Did you know what you were -after when you took these papers?" - -He was a dark blur to Gerson, who felt as if the weight on his chest -had been increased. His lips were dry. He thought it would be nice to -have a little water, but could not find words to ask. - -The deep voice was flinging a question at the dark blur. - -"Why, no, sir," said the Terran with the papers. "Nothing important at -all. Just a few old shipping lists, a record of the planetary motions -in this system that anybody could obtain, and an article on shortcuts -to learning the Yoleenite language. I think I had the batch lying -around the top of my desk." - -"Why did he take them?" someone asked. - -"Damned if I know. You fellows had me scared to death. From what you -said, I thought he must have pinched the deadly top secret code and my -personal address book to boot!" - -"Simmons!" shouted the deeper voice. "Are you getting this? Are you -making a tape for Terra? Oh ... right out, eh? Scrambled, I hope--it's -not the kind of thing to publicize to the galaxy." - -The mechanical voice boomed in the background. Gerson paid it no -attention. - -He felt the doctor's hands touching the old injections and heard the -man swearing. Whoever was holding his left arm was actually squeezing -and stroking his hand. The taste of failure was in his mouth. - -"That's what they must have started with," said the doctor. "In the -end, they put an awful mental twist into him, poor guy." - -"I told you they were up to something," said the dark blur. "Those -little bastards had big ideas, but they won't catch us napping with any -more spies, conditioned or not! Now maybe they'll read my reports on -Terra." - -Gerson opened his mouth to breath better. He rolled his head from side -to side on the hard floor. Somewhere deep inside him, a little, silent -voice was crying, frightened. He had failed and there would be no other -chance. - -The little voice took leave of its fear to laugh. _They_ had not let -him remember how to read. - -And so he died, a tall, battered Terran lying on a hard floor and -grinning faintly up at the men who had helped him die. - - - - -SIXTEEN - - -In the communications room of department 99, Westervelt could actually -hear people around him breathing, so hushed was the gathering. Someone -was leaning on his shoulder, but he was reluctant to attract attention -by moving. - -Static sounds and the clicking and humming of various mechanisms about -the room suddenly became unnaturally noticable. Glancing this way and -that, he discovered that the entire staff had drifted in during the -transmission from Yoleen. There were at least two people behind him, to -judge by the breathing and the weight on his shoulder. So intense had -been the excitement that he did not remember anyone but Smith arriving. - -He saw better to the left than to the right, and became conscious of -his eye again. Westervelt had drawn up his chair behind and to the -left of the operator, and Smith had perched himself on the end of a -table behind Joe. Beside the chief stood Simonetta, with Beryl behind -her. Parrish was to Westervelt's left, so he concluded that Lydman -and Pauline must be behind him. The grip on his right shoulder felt -small to be Lydman's, but he could not see down at the necessary angle -because of the puffiness under his eye. - -The broad-shouldered, stocky man on the screen moved to the stairway -and looked up straight into their eyes. - -"Is this still going out to Terra, Simmons?" he asked. - -He had dark hair with a crinkly wave in it, which permitted him to -appear less disheveled than the men about him or standing over the -body of Gerson. He pulled out a large white handkerchief to wipe the -streaming perspiration from his face. - -"Yes, sir," answered the voice of the distant operator. "You're looking -right into the concealed pick-up. I'll switch the audio from Terra to -the loud speaker system, and you can talk to them." - -Westervelt glanced at the other men in the embassy on Yoleen. Several -of them obviously suffered from minor injuries. All of them wore -expressions of tragedy. - -One man in his shirtsleeves was standing with his shoulders against -the base of the stairway, head thrown well back, trying to staunch the -flow of blood from his nose. Another, with his back to the lens, knelt -beside the body of Gerson. A couple of others, looking helpless, were -lighting cigarettes. - -"I suppose you saw the end of it," the man on the stairs said. - -Smith cleared his throat and leaned over Joe Rosenkrantz's shoulder. - -"We saw," he answered. "I ... is there any doubt that he's dead?" - -The man on the stairs looked to the group around the body. The doctor -shook his bandaged head sadly. - -"As much from strain and exhaustion as anything else," he reported. -"The man belonged in a hospital, but some uncanny conditioning drove -him on. In the end, his heart gave out." - -The stocky man turned back to the lens. - -"You heard that. Except for one man who didn't know at the time what -was going on, we did the best we could. I'm Delaney, by the way, in -charge here." - -Smith identified himself, and agreed that Gerson had looked to be -unmanageable. - -"Do you think you can find out what they used?" he asked. "I gather -that you never got anything out of him since the time you picked him -up. Did that part of it go according to plan?" - -"Oh, yes," said Delaney. "We even got back the little torch we sent -him, the way you plotted for us. It looked used, too; but now I'm -wondering if they let him cut his way out." - -"I wouldn't doubt it," said Smith gloomily. "I'm afraid we didn't look -very bright on this one. We seem to have underestimated the Yoleenites -badly. There isn't too much information on them available here." - -"Nor here, to tell the truth," said Delaney. "Which reminds me--our -Captain MacLean has been after me for a long time to put more pressure -on the D.I.R. about that. Could you duplicate your tape and send them a -copy? It would save us another transmission, and you might like to add -your own comments." - -Smith promised to have it done. He also offered, to soothe Captain -MacLean, to send an extra copy to the Space Force. - -There seemed to be nothing more to say. The scene on the screen blanked -out, as the distant operator spoke to Rosenkrantz on audio only from -his own shot-up office. Then it was over. - -Westervelt, aware that the pressure on his shoulder was gone, looked -around. Lydman had his arm about a shaken Pauline. The ex-spacer's -expression was blank, but the hardness of his eyes made the youth -shiver. For a second, he thought he detected a slight resemblance -to the man who had come bounding down the stairs on Yoleen, leaving -criss-cross trails of rocket smoke in the air. - -_That's crazy!_ he thought the next instant, and he lost the -resemblance. - -He blinked, fingered his tender eye, and looked around at the others. -Everyone was subdued, staring at the blank and quiet receiver or at -the floor. Westervelt was surprised to see that Beryl was crying. She -raised a forefinger to scrub the tears from her cheek. - -Hesitantly, Westervelt took the neatly folded handkerchief from his -breast pocket and held it out. - -Beryl scrubbed the other cheek, looked at the handkerchief without -raising her eyes to his, and accepted it. She blotted her eyes, -examined the cloth, and whispered, "Sorry, Willie. I think I got -make-up on it." - -Smith stirred uncomfortably at the whisper. He stood up and spoke one -short word with a depth of emotion. Then he kicked the leg of the table -to relieve his feelings. - -Rosenkrantz swiveled around in his chair, waiting to see if any other -calls were to be made. Smith took a deep breath. - -"You'll make copies of the tape when you can, Joe?" - -"Sure," said the operator, sympathetically. - -"Well," said Lydman, at the rear of the group, "that's another one -lost. Tomorrow we'll open a permanent file on Yoleen, as Pete suggests." - -"Yes, I imagine they'll give us more business," agreed Parrish. - -Lydman growled. - -"I'll give _them_ the business next time!" he threatened. "Well, that -kind of damps the pile for tonight. I don't know about the rest of you, -but I'm in no mood now to be clever." - -Smith straightened up abruptly. - -"Now ... now ... wait a minute!" he spluttered. "I mean, we all feel -pretty low, naturally. Still, this wasn't the main ... serious as this -was, we were trying to push on this other case, to get a start anyway." - -_Here we go again,_ thought Westervelt. _Shall I try to trip him up if -anything happens, or shall I just get out of the way?_ - -He recalled the man in the embassy on Yoleen, holding a stained -handkerchief to his bloody nose, and measured the size of his own with -the tip of a forefinger. On the other hand, if there should be a melee, -it would certainly cover a little item like a puffy eye. He wondered if -he would have the guts to poke out his head at the proper instant, and -was rather afraid that he would. - -Parrish was murmuring about sticking to the job in hand, trying to -support Smith without arousing the antagonism of an open argument. -Lydman seemed unconvinced. - -"Why don't we all have a round of coffee?" suggested Simonetta. "If we -can just sit down a few minutes and pull ourselves together--" - -Smith looked at her gratefully. - -"Yes," he said. "That's the least we can do, Bob. This was a shock to -us all, but the girls felt it more. I don't believe any of them wants -to hit the street all shaken up like this. Right Si?" - -"I _would_ like to sit down somewhere," said Simonetta. - -"Here!" exclaimed Westervelt, leaping up. He had forgotten that he had -been rooted to the chair since before the others had crept into the -room during the transmission from Yoleen. - -"Never mind, Willie," Simonetta said. "I didn't mean I was collapsing. -Come on, Beryl, let's see if there's any coffee or tea left." - -"Wait for me," said Pauline. "I've got to take this phone off the -outside line anyway." - -Smith stepped forward to plant one hand behind Lydman's shoulder blade. - -"I could use a martini, myself," he called after the girls. "How about -the rest of you? Pete? Willie?" - -Parrish seconded the motion, Westervelt said he would be right along, -and trailed them slowly to the door. He paused to look back, and he and -Joe exchanged brow-mopping gestures. - -The rest of them were trouping along the corridor without much talk. -He ambled along until the men, bringing up the rear, had turned the -corner. Then he ducked into the library. - -He fingered his eye again. Either it was a trifle less sore or he was -getting used to it. He still hesitated to face an office full of people -and good lighting. - -"There must be something around here to read," he muttered. - -He walked over to a stack of current magazines. Most of them were -technical in nature; but several dealt with world and galactic news. He -took a few to a seat at the long table and began to leaf through one. - -It must have been about fifteen minutes later that Simonetta showed up, -bearing a sealed cup of tea and one of coffee. - -"So that's where you are!" she said. "I was taking something to Joe, -and thought maybe I'd find you along the way." - -Westervelt deduced that she had phoned the operator. - -"You can have the coffee," she said, setting it beside his magazine. -"Joe said he'd rather have tea this time around." - -Westervelt looked up. Simonetta saw his eye and pursed her lips. - -"Well!" - -"How does it look?" asked Westervelt glumly. - -"Kind of pretty. If I remember the ones my brothers used to bring home, -it will be ravishingly beautiful by tomorrow!" - -"That's what I was afraid of," said Westervelt. - -Simonetta laughed. She set the tea aside and pulled out a chair. - -"I don't think it's really that bad, Willie," she told him. "I was only -fooling." - -"It shows though, huh?" - -"Oh ... yes ... it shows." - -"That's what I like about you, Si," said Westervelt. "You don't ask -nasty, embarrassing questions like how it happened or which door closed -on me." - -Following which he told her nearly the whole story, leaving out only -the true origin of the quarrel. He suspected that Simonetta could put -two and two together, but he meant to tell nobody about the start of it. - -"Ah, Willie," she said with a grin at the conclusion, "if you had to -fall for a blonde, why couldn't you pick little Pauline?" - -"I guess you're right." - -"Now, don't take _that_ so seriously too! Beryl's a good sort, on the -whole. In a day or two, this will all blow over. Come on with me to see -Joe, then we'll go back and say you got something in your eye." - -"But when?" - -"Oh ... during the message from Yoleen. You didn't want to bother -anybody at the time, so you foolishly kept rubbing until it got sore." - -"That's all right," said Westervelt, "but Beryl knows different." - -"If she opens her mouth, I shall personally punch _her_ in the eye!" -declared Simonetta. - -She giggled at the idea, and he found himself grinning. - -They went along the corridor to deliver the tea to Rosenkrantz, and -then returned to the main office. An air of complete informality -prevailed, a reaction from the scene they had witnessed. There was -a good deal of wandering about with drinks, sitting on desks, and -inconsequential chatter. - -No one seemed to want to talk shop, and Westervelt guessed that Smith -was just as pleased to be able to kill some time. He himself quietly -slipped around the corner to his own desk, where he propped his heels -up and sipped his coffee. - -Westervelt listened as Parrish and Smith told a few jokes. The stories -tended to be more ironic than funny, and no one was expected to laugh -out loud. - -Pauline, from her switchboard, buzzed the phone on Simonetta's desk, -since most of those present had gravitated to that end of the office. -Smith looked around in the middle of an account of his struggles with -his radio-controlled lawn mower. - -"Want to take that, Willie?" he said, with a bare suggestion of a wink. - -Westervelt lifted a hand in assent. He climbed out of his chair and -went to the phone on Beryl's desk, where he would be as nearly private -as possible. - -"Who is it, Pauline?" he asked when she came on. - -"It's Joe. He wants to talk to Mr. Smith." - -"Give it here on number seven," said Westervelt. "The boss is talking." - -Pauline blanked out and was replaced by the communications man. -Rosenkrantz showed a flicker of surprise at the sight of Westervelt. - -"Smitty's in a crowd," murmured the youth. "Something up?" - -"Not much, maybe," said the other. "A message came in by commercial -TV. I guess they didn't think it was too urgent, but I'll give you the -facts if you think Smitty would like to know." - -"Hold on," said Westervelt. "Let's see ... where does Beryl keep a pen?" - -He dug out a scratch pad and something to scribble with, and nodded. - -"One of our own agents," said Joe, "named Robertson, signed this. -You've seen his reports, I guess." - -"Yeah, sounds familiar." - -"It says, after reading between our standard code expressions, that two -spacers and a tourist were convicted of inciting revolution on Epsilon -Indi II. They gave the names, and all, which I taped." - -"That's practically in our back yard," said Westervelt. "Maybe he just -wants to alert us, but the D.I.R. ought to be working on that publicly. -Sure there wasn't any hint it was urgent?" - -"No, and like I said, it came by commercial relay." - -"Okay. The boss has enough on his mind at the moment. Let's figure on -having a tape for him to look at in the morning. I'll find a chance to -mention it to him, so he'll know about it. All right?" - -"All right with me," grinned Rosenkrantz. "If anything goes wrong, I'll -refer them to you. Be prepared to have your other eye spit in." - -He cut off, leaving Westervelt with his mouth open and his regained -aplomb shaky. The youth waited until he caught Smith's eye, and shook -his head to indicate the unimportance of the call. He wondered if he -ought to take time to phone downstairs for a report on the situation. -It did not strike him as worth the risk with all the people in the same -room. - -He saw Beryl strolling his way and rose from her chair. - -"That's all right, Willie," she said calmly, setting her packaged drink -on the desk. "I just wanted to give you back your handkerchief." - -She produced it from the purse lying on her desk and said, "Thanks -again. I'm sorry about the make-up marks." - -"Forget it," said Westervelt. - -"I'm sorry about the eye too," said Beryl, raising her eyes for the -first time to examine the damage. "It ... doesn't look as bad as Si -said." - -"Well, that's a comfort, anyway. I got something in it and rubbed too -hard, you know." - -"Yes, she told me," said Beryl. "To tell the truth, Willie, I didn't -know I could do it." - -"Aw, it was a lucky swing," muttered Westervelt. - -"Yes ... I, well ... you might say I was a little upset." - -"I'm sorry I started it all," said Westervelt. "How about letting me -buy you a lunch to make up." - -Beryl shrugged, looking serious. - -"I don't mind, if we make it Dutch. It was as much my fault. I hope -we're both around to go to lunch tomorrow. It gives me the creeps." - -"What does?" asked Westervelt. - -"The way Mr. Lydman looks. Something about his eyes...." - -Westervelt turned his head to stare across the room, wondering if the -worst had occurred. - - - - -SEVENTEEN - - -John Willard set a brisk pace through the streets of First Haven, as -befitted a conscientious public servant. Maria Ringstad kept up with -him as best she could. When she lagged, the thin cord tightened around -her wrist, and he grumbled over his shoulder at her. Naturally, she -carried her bag. - -He had explained that they would have been most inconspicuous with her -walking properly a yard behind him. Anyone would then have taken them -for man and wife or man and servant--had it not been for her Terran -clothing. - -"To walk the street with you in that rig would attract entirely too -much attention," was his explanation. "The only thing we can do is use -the public symbol of restraint, so that everyone will know you are a -prisoner." - -"What good will that do? Won't they still stare." - -"It is considered improper, as well as imprudent. No law-abiding -citizen would wish to risk being suspected of a sympathetic curiosity -about a transgressor." - -"You make it sound dangerous," said Maria, holding out her hand -obediently. - -_Anything to be inconspicuous_, she had thought. - -Now, turning a corner about three hundred yards from the jail, she had -to admit that the system seemed to be working. The Greenies whom they -met were nearly all interested in other things: a shop in the vicinity, -another Greenie across the street, a paving stone over which they had -just tripped, or the condition of the wall above Maria's head. - -Willard led her to the far side of a broader avenue after they had -negotiated the corner that put them permanently out of sight of the -jail. Maria tried to recall the scanty information he had whispered to -her against the outside wall of the prison. - -There had been time for him to tell her he was sent by the Department -of Interstellar Relations of Terra to get her out, since it had proved -impossible to alter the attitude of the Greenie legal authorities. -Maria was not quite sure whether he was really the prison officer he -said he was, in which case he must have been bribed on a scale to make -her own "crime" ridiculous, or whether he was an independent worker -friendly to the Terran space line, in which case the payment might more -charitably be regarded as a fee. - -She knew that he planned to deliver her to a spaceship due to leave -shortly. There had been no opportunity for her to ask the destination. - -_To tell the truth_, she reflected, _I don't care where it is. Anything -would be a haven from Greenhaven!_ - -She began to amuse herself by planning the article she would write -when back on Terra. "How I escaped from Paradise" might do it. Or -"Prison-breaking in Paradise." Or perhaps "Greenhaven or Green Hell." - -_Whatever I call it_, she promised herself, _I'll skin them alive. And -I'll find a way to send the judge and the warden copies of it, too!_ - -Maybe, she pondered, it might even be better to stretch it out to a -whole book and get someone to do a series of unflattering cartoons of -Greenie characters. - -The cord jerked at her wrist. She realized that she had fallen behind -again, and made an apologetic face at Willard when he looked back. - -"Don't do that!" he hissed. "They'll wonder why I tolerate disrespect." - -"Sorry!" said Maria, shrugging unrepentantly. "You take this pretty -seriously, don't you." - -"You'd better take it seriously yourself," he growled. "It's your neck -as much as mine!" - -He glared at a young Greenie who had glanced curiously from the -opposite side of the avenue. The abashed citizen hastily averted his -eyes. Willard gave the cord a significant twitch and strode on. - -They turned another corner, to the right this time, and went along a -narrow side street for about two hundred yards. Waiting for a moment -when he might meet as few people as possible, Willard crossed to the -other side. A little further on, he led the way into what could almost -be termed an alley. - -Willard stopped. - -"Now, we are going into this small food shop," he informed Maria. "You -would call it a cafe or restaurant on Terra. It will seem normal enough -for an officer to provide his charge with food for a journey, so that -will be reasonable." - -"Is the food any better than what I've been getting?" asked Maria. - -"It doesn't matter. We won't stop there, since it would be impolite to -inflict the sight of you upon honest citizens at their meal. I shall -request a private room, and the keeper will lead us to the rear." - -"Humph! Well if that's the way it is, then that's the way it is. So in -the eyes of an honest Greenie I'm something to spoil his appetite. What -can I do about that?" - -"What you can do is keep that big, flexible, active mouth of yours -_shut_!" declared Willard. "Otherwise, I shall simply drop the end of -the cord and take off. You can find your own way out." - -"I'm sorry," apologized Maria, a shade too meekly. "I promise I'll be -oh-so-good. Do you want me to kneel down and lick your boots? Or will -it be enough if I open a vein in the soup?" - -"It will be enough if I get out of this without committing murder," -mumbled Willard. "Now, the expression is fine; just wipe that grin off -your mind and well go in!" - -He pulled her along the few yards to the entrance of the food shop. - -He opened the door and entered. Maria followed at the respectful -distance. - -There were half a dozen Greenies eating plain, wholesome meals at -plain, sturdy tables and exchanging a plain, honest word now and then. -The sight of the cord on Maria's wrist counterbalanced the sight of her -lascivious Terran costume, and they kept their eyes on their food after -one startled glance. - -A Greenie woman stood at a counter at one side of the food shop, and -Willard made known his desire for a private dining room. A man cooking -something that might have been stew looked around from his labor at a -massive but primitive stove to the rear of the counter. Maria thought -that he took an unusual interest in her compared to what she had been -observing recently. It rather helped her morale, and she thought she -did not blame the man if the counterwoman were his wife. - -The latter now came from behind her little fortress and led the way to -a door at the rear of the shop. Willard followed, and Maria trailed -along, restraining an impulse to wink at the cook. She was conscious of -his analytical stare until the door had closed behind her. - -Willard seemed to have nothing to say to the Greenie woman, and Maria -relented to the point of heeding his request to be silent. All this -made for a solemn little procession. - -They walked along a short hall, and the Greenie woman opened another -door to a flight of stairs. What surprised Maria was that the stairs -led down. She shrugged--on Greenhaven, they had their own peculiar ways. - -She was more puzzled when, at the bottom of the steps, they seemed to -be in an ordinary cellar. The light was dim, and she did not succeed in -catching the look on Willard's face. She began to wonder if she might -wind up buried under a basement floor while he spent his ill-gotten -bribe. - -Then the Greenie woman pulled aside a large crate and opened another -door. To pass through this one, they all had to stoop. Marie realized -that they were then in the cellar of another building. The blocks of -stone forming the walls looked damp and dirty. - -They proceeded to climb stairs again, and to traverse another hall. -Maria thought they ended up going in a direction away from the street. -The woman led them through a small, dark series of rooms, and finally -into one with windows set too high in the walls to see out. There she -halted and faced Willard. - -The Greenie prison official dropped the cord and reached into an inner -pocket of his drab uniform. He withdrew a thick packet of Greenhaven -currency. The numbers and units were too unfamiliar for Maria to guess -at the value from one quick glance; but the attitude of their hostess -suggested that it was substantial. Willard handed it over. Maria -decided it was time to set down her bag. - -The woman went immediately to a large chest in a corner of the room and -opened it. She set aside a mirror she took out of the chest, then began -to pull out other objects. There was a case which she handed to Willard -and a great many articles of clothing that were probably considered -feminine on this world. - -"The point is," Willard said in low tones, "you are going to have to -have proper clothes to look natural on the street. See if that dress -will fit you." - -Maria took the thing distastefully, but it looked to be about the right -length when she held it up against her. The Greenie woman nodded. She -added a sort of full-length flannel slip and a petticoat to the dress. - -"Now I know why the Greenie women look so grim," said Maria. "It would -be almost worth dying to stay out of such a rig." - -"Hold your tongue!" said Willard. - -Maria made a face. - -"Present company excepted, of course!" she added. - -"Change!" ordered Willard. "We have no time to waste." - -He took the mirror and the small case to a rude table under one of -the windows. He opened the box so that Maria caught a glimpse of the -contents, which looked like an actor's make-up kit. - -The Greenie woman joggled Maria's elbow and spoke for the first time. - -"I must not be long, or it will be noticed," she hinted. - -"Give her your clothes to burn and get into the others," said Willard, -bending over the table with his back to her. "As soon as I get myself -fixed here, I'll change your face too." - -Maria looked about in a manner to suggest that she hoped they knew what -they were doing. The Greenie woman waited. Maria reached up and began -to unbutton her blouse. - -She dropped it across her bag. The woman picked both of them up, and -waited. She looked a trifle shocked at the sight of the thin slip when -Maria unzipped her skirt and hauled it over her head. By the time the -slip followed, she was standing with downcast eyes. - -Maria eyed the broad back in the drab uniform as she unfastened -her brassiere. This would make a good story someday, but to tell -it in the wrong company might be to invite catty remarks about her -attractiveness. She could think of other men who might not have kept -their backs so rigidly turned as did Willard. It was almost provocative. - -She slipped down the brief panties, stepped out of them, and handed -them over. The Greenie woman pointed silently to the shoes. Marie -kicked them off, and they were added to the pile. She hoped that -whatever was in the chest for footwear would not be too hard to walk in. - -The Greenie woman thrust the flannel atrocity at her and left the room -hastily. Maria watched the door close softly, then held the garment -out at arm's length. It did not look any better. She took a few steps -toward Willard. - -_I'll bet I could make him faint dead away_, she thought -mischievously. _I'd love to see the look on his face if ... well, why -not? I will!_ - -"She's gone," she announced in a low voice. "How do I get into this -thing?" - -Willard looked around, and the look was nothing she had ever seen -before. His face appeared fuller in the cheeks, his eyebrows were black -and heavy, his nose high at the bridge, and his whole complexion was -darker. - -He nodded at her gasp. - -"Those papers I turned in for you won't last too long. The estimate is -that they will dissolve before tomorrow morning, but they just might -come apart sooner. If he sends out an alarm, I don't want to be on the -streets in shape to be recognized." - -"That's wonderful!" said Maria enthusiastically. "Are you going to make -me up too?" - -"Yes," said Willard. "Get into those things so I can start!" - -Maria watched his eyes flicker to her breasts and then sweep down the -rest of her body. She thought he was taking it very well, unless it was -the make-up. - -"Will you help me with this thing?" she begged. "I never saw one -before." - -She held out the flannel garment with a helpless smile, planting the -other hand on her bare hip. - -"_Will_ you quit teasing, you little bitch!" Willard snapped. "I'm no -Greenie, if that's what you thought. You could get us involved to the -point of missing the ship." - -Maria felt her eyes popping. A tingling, hot flush lit her face. It -spread back to her neck and crept down to her breasts. She snatched the -flannel sack to her and turned her back. - -Somehow, she maneuvered it over her head. Then she fumbled on the -starched petticoat and topped the whole with the dun-colored dress that -fell chastely about her ankles. Willard handed her a pair of low heeled -shoes that were only a little loose when she put them on. - -He had her stand facing one of the windows while he darkened her face -and put a black wig on her. She looked up at the window and stood very -still. - -"Now, listen!" said Willard. "You'll absolutely have to stop blushing -like that, or the color of the skin is going to come all wrong!" - -"I can't help it," she said meekly. Then she saw he was laughing at -her, and gave him a rueful smile. "Where did all that modesty come -from? It was the shock, I suppose." - -"All right, it was funny. When we get out on the street again, forget -all about what's funny! Look like a serious Greenie!" - -"Funny?" objected Maria. "I always thought I made a pretty fair showing -in comparison to the local gals." - -"Oh, you did, you did! One of the best showings I've ever seen." - -He pressed a hand to each side of her waist, then slid them up her ribs -until the weight of her breasts rested against his wrists. - -"We'll talk about this again when we make it to the ship," he told her -in a low voice. "Right now, it would be foolish to spoil this make-up." - -He turned away after a long moment and returned the kit to the chest. -They left by the same door by which they had entered, but Willard knew -a short way out to a different street. Maria thought it must be the one -outside the high windows. He set off at a businesslike pace. - -They traveled about a quarter of a mile, counting several turns by -which he sacrificed directness for sparsely peopled streets. The -disguises must have been effective, for they drew no second glances. -It was not until she saw the gibbet that Maria realized they were -approaching the outskirts of the city. - -"What--?" she began, sensing the reality of her plight for the first -time. - -"Quiet! Look the other way, if you must, but don't be obvious about it." - -Several examples of rigid Greenhaven justice were on exhibit to a -modest crowd. Three men and two women sat in stocks. They were not, -apparently, subject to rock-throwing or other abuse, as Maria seemed to -remember had been the custom on ancient Terra; but they were clearly -unhappy and mortified. From the gibbet behind them swung the body of -a hanged man. It appeared to have been there for some time. Maria -wondered what _he_ had done to corrupt the morals or the economics of -Greenhaven. - -What nearly made her sick was the sight of a party of two dozen -children being guided on a tour of the place. One youngster whined, and -was thoroughly cuffed by the Greenie in charge. - -Then they were past, and Maria saw the high cyclone fence of the Terran -spaceport. Willard took a look at her face. Seemingly satisfied, he -explained that they had come to a section well away from the main -entrance. He led her along the fence for perhaps a hundred yards, found -a small gate, and unlocked it with a key produced from under his belt. -Maria, remembering their exit from the jail, was not surprised to feel -a good-natured slap on the bottom as she stepped onto Terran land. -There was another quarter-mile to go, but it was open land. - -"We have it made now," said Willard, locking the gate behind them. - -They by-passed the administration and custom buildings, and headed -directly for the field elevator beside the waiting spaceship, ignoring -the possibility of causing inquiries to be made by local eagle-eyes who -might think they had seen two Greenies board the vessel. - -"Willard, of the Department of Interstellar Relations," he introduced -himself to a surprised ship's officer. "You've been told to expect Miss -Ringstad?" - -The officer, staring in bald disbelief at Maria's costume, admitted -that the ship was more or less being held for her arrival. - -"One thing was unexpected," said Willard. "I am exercising my authority -to demand a cabin for myself as well. I have reason to suspect that my -disguise had been penetrated, which, of course, makes it very dangerous -for me." - -"Of course," agreed the officer. "Let's go, by all means!" - -"Yes," said Maria. "I want to get out of this awful rig." - -"That's what I meant," said Willard. - -There was no doubt that the influence behind Willard had held the ship -for them. It rose as soon as they could reach a pair of tiny cabins. -Later, after the first surge of the take-off, there were a number of -delays stretching between minor course corrections. - -Finally, it was announced over the public address system that because -of precautionary checking of the course, there would be no spin to -simulate planetary gravity for about two hours. Maria hoped that she -would not be revealed as the cause to the disgruntled passengers. - -She was still considering this and trying to disentangle herself from -the acceleration net slung in the ten-foot cubicle they were pleased to -call a cabin, when Willard arrived. - -"I made friends with some of the crew," he announced. "Everybody likes -to help out a D.I.R. agent. It must strike them as romantic." - -"They should know," said Maria, thinking of the long, suspenseful walk -through Greenhaven's streets. - -"There was a stewardess who had extra slacks and blouse about your -size." - -"You must have a good eye," she told him. "Or think you have, anyhow. -First, get me out of this thing. What with this Greenie outfit too, I -might as well be in a straitjacket!" - -He pushed himself over to the net and began to open the zipper. She -saw that he had taken time to remove his "Greenie" face. - -Her first motion, when the net was open, sent her tumbling head over -heels to the far bulkhead. - -"Keep a grip on something," laughed Willard. "Here--I brought a small -kit along. Let me fix your face." - -She obediently clung to the anchoring shock springs at one end of the -net and turned her face up so that he could work on the mask he had -earlier painted on. His fingers were gentle, smoothing in the cream he -had brought and rubbing off the make-up with lightly perfumed tissues. -Maria closed her eyes luxuriously and thought how pleasant it was to be -off Greenhaven. - -"Was it very complicated, getting me out of there?" she asked. - -"There were a lot of angles to think of," he answered, "but we pulled -it off as slickly as I've ever seen done. Just strolled right out -through them all. Things in this business don't often go that well to -plan. There--now you look human again, just like when I started to put -that face on you." - -"Not exactly," smiled Maria, plucking ruefully at the native Mother -Hubbard, which billowed hideously about her in the zero gravity. - -"That's easily changed," Willard said, meeting her smile significantly. -"See if you can find your way out any better than you did getting into -it, while I sort out the clothes I got for us." - -Between the reaction from the strain of the past few hours and a glow -of gratitude toward her rescuer. Maria began to sense the stir of an -emotion within her that took a few moments to recognize. It surprised -her a little. - -"Willard," she said lazily, "it's funny, but I feel just as if I'm -falling in love with you." - -"That's interesting," grinned the agent. "About time, too." - -"I can't tell if my knees are weak," she went on, laying a hand on his -shoulder to draw herself closer, "because I'm hanging in mid-air; but -you always seem to be making me strip--and I find myself not minding." - -"I don't mind either!" he assured her. - -When his arm slipped around her waist and he kissed her, Maria was -sure. She let her lips part gradually, trembling as the fever rose in -her. - -"Let me go a minute," she murmured. - -Presently, after a few weightless contortions, the muffling Greenhaven -flannels were sent swirling into a corner. Maria laughed softly as -she set a bare foot against the bulkhead to launch herself back into -Willard's arms. - - - - -EIGHTEEN - - -Was it the pain in his head that made everything seem to sway? - -Or was it the swaying that made his head hurt? - -Taranto opened his eyes slowly. For two or three minutes, in the -darkness, he did not understand what he saw. - -Gradually, comprehension developed. He was on a litter again, and the -bearers were descending a rough track into a shallow valley. There was -no sign of the city or of any other landmark even vaguely familiar. -Jagged rocks formed a ridge to his left, curving around to enclose the -depression. Other rocky buttes, he saw through slitted eyes, projected -from the barren rubble of the Valley floor. There seemed to be little -sand, unless it had blown down into the lower areas. - -Cautiously, letting his head roll with the lurching motion of the -bearers, he learned that another group was ahead. He thought they must -be guarding Meyers. The red-uniformed officer marched just preceding -Taranto's litter. That meant that there must be two soldiers behind, -out of his view. - -_What now?_ he asked himself. _It was a good try, but it didn't work -out._ - -It seemed hopeless to attempt anything further until he found out where -he was. Nor would it do any harm to learn _how_ he was--they must have -crowned him beautifully. He tried to move his arms and legs slightly -without being obviously restless. Nothing felt broken. There was just -the sore throbbing behind his left ear. - -Were they taking him and Meyers further into the desert, to make sure -they could properly be reported dead? Or was the party on its way back -to the city? - -Taranto moved about stealthily, as the litter heaved from side to -side and bounced about with the efforts of his bearers to negotiate -outcroppings of rock. He was surprised that his arms and legs were not -tied. He wondered how long he had been out cold. Perhaps the Syssokans -believed he really was dead from that spear across the skull. - -_You shouldn't have underestimated that guy just because you dropped -him a few times_, he told himself. _You caught on to the difference, -but he learned it from you._ - -From ahead and lower on the path came voices. There was a brisk breeze, -but Taranto thought he could recognize Meyers giving vent to an -outraged whine. - -_Wonder how much of a grudge they'll hold?_ he thought. _Some of them -must be lumped up pretty good._ - -He was beginning to locate a number of scrapes and bruises on his own -sturdy frame. He wondered if it might be best to take things easy until -they reached either their desert destination or the area outside the -city, according to which way they were headed, and then offer to bribe -the officer in charge. It would probably be too risky: he would have -to rely on large promises, and they had already caught him in a crude -whopper. Whatever the case, it would be unwise to open negotiations -without finding out what the Syssokan commander looked like. Taranto -seemed to recall pasting the fellow pretty thoroughly. - -He caught a few words of Terran, blown back to him by a random gust. -Meyers was complaining about being too tired to walk any farther. It -did not sound as though he were making his point. - -_Of course!_ Taranto realized. _I must be in his stretcher. Mine was -busted. Now the slob will put it on me for making him bump his rump -along this trail!_ - -The image was not without humor. Contemplating it gave Taranto a -momentary satisfaction. - -Well, they knew Meyers was alive, even if they might not be sure about -Taranto himself. Perhaps they were merely saving both Terrans for a -longer jail term. Taranto hoped that the Syssokans had nothing more -unpleasant in mind. The remarks he had used earlier in his attempt to -bluff the officer could be used for inimical purposes by anyone who -cared to point out that Syssokan knowledge of Terran physiology was -scanty. Then what? - -Taranto decided that he would be foolish to worry along that line at -the present. What he needed was an idea for getting loose again. He -speculated for a few minutes upon his chances of backtracking to the -scene of his attempt at escape. Somewhere near there, in whichever -direction it was, a spaceship should be landing. - -_If they ain't been and gone already_, he thought. - -In his supine position on the stretcher, he was able to see the sky -without moving. That was why the distant trail of light was visible to -him for some moments before any of the Syssokans could notice it. - -_I can't wait it out after all_, he realized. - -The ship would be heard presently, and the flare of its braking rockets -would arouse the guards. Taranto peeked around again and saw that they -were nearing the foot of the slope. Following the natural motion of -the bearers, he let himself roll a little too far each time the litter -swayed. The Syssokans struggled to compensate while scrabbling for -safe footholds on the hard, slippery surface. - -In the end, one of them slipped. The litter crashed down. Taranto added -a twist to the natural force of gravity, so that he rolled downhill. - -The fallen bearer picked himself up, mumbling something in Syssokan -that sounded remarkably belligerent. One of the others moved to recover -the stretcher. Taranto kept on rolling. - -At the first yell, he gave up the pretense and regained his feet with a -lithe bound. For the next sixty seconds, he needed every last smidgin -of concentration to escape taking a fatal spill on the sloping rocks. - -Hurtling downward in great leaps, he was forced to hurdle large rocks -because his velocity prevented him from changing course by even a foot. -Once he skidded, thinking his time had come. Near the bottom, where the -incline curved to meet the horizontal, he did go down, ploughing up a -spatter of loose chips and pebbles. - -He was up and running again without quite knowing how. A dark shape -loomed up before him, a rock twice his height. Before passing it, he -took the chance of looking back. - -The litter party was in a state of confusion. The officer and two -soldiers were bounding after him, slanting away on a more reasonable -path. One Syssokan was still in the process of picking himself up, and -most of the others were either milling about or just beginning to heed -their leader's shouts to follow Taranto. - -The intention of yelling to Meyers flashed across his mind but he -dismissed it as being useless. A hasty glance in the opposite direction -showed him the fire trail settling behind another ridge to his right -front. The valley bore a certain resemblance to a meteor crater. - -Taranto sprinted past the huge rock and bore right toward the distant -ridge. He would try to locate the ship if and when he reached the -ridge. The immediate necessity was to keep out of the clutches of the -burial party. - -Running in the starlit darkness was risky, as he soon found. The ground -was strewn with occasional patches of loose stone, traps of nature -suitable for tripping the unwary or causing a sprain. The only thing -that kept Taranto reckless was the sounds of pursuit behind him. - -He had gone about two hundred yards when he realized that some of the -rock-scattering noises came from his right more than from behind. The -Syssokan were better runners than he, and used to the local terrain -besides. He could not tell whether they had seen the trail of the -spaceship or, if so, whether they connected it with him. - -_But they know enough to head me off, whichever way I go_, he thought. - -He came unexpectedly to a patch of sand, and swore as he felt his speed -slacken. A desperate glance over his shoulder revealed no pursuers, -though he knew they were there somewhere. He could see two runners who -had flanked him on the right fifty yards off; and these forced him into -bearing away from his desired course. - -Instead of passing to the right of a tall outcropping of rock ahead, he -turned left. It took him farther from the direction of the spaceship, -but there was no help for it. He floundered over a low dune of sand and -then was out of it and running on flat ground. He circled to the left -of the hill, hearing a howl from the rear. - -_Must have seen me against the open valley_, thought Taranto. _They -sound closer than I like._ - -He ran on, scanning the shadowed rocks towering over him for a place to -climb. It was a foregone conclusion that the two flankers would be on -the lookout for him as he came around the hill. - -At last he thought he saw a way up, a sloping ledge leading to a -small plateau before the rock reared higher in a sheer cliff. Taranto -scrambled over a waist-high boulder and made for the opening. Up -he went, on hands and toes. The rock was ridged, but in the wrong -direction, and he slipped to hands and knees twice before he was up. - -He slowed to a quick walk as he reached the level expanse. It was ten -or twelve feet above the valley floor and curved off to the right -around the base of the cliff. Taranto was panting by now, but his main -reason for slowing was that he wanted to make less noise until he -spotted the two Syssokans he expected to meet. - -The broad ledge he was following dipped, rose a few feet, and dipped -again to less than ten feet above the level ground. Taranto flattened -himself suddenly. - -The two Syssokans came loping along the shadowy edge of the -outcropping, spears at the ready. From around the cliff sounded a call. -The first soldier threw back his head to answer. As the howl left -his throat, and masked the noise of the Terran's scrambling, Taranto -launched himself upon the back of the second. - -They went down with a thump upon hard rocks. Taranto, saving his ribs -from being caved in by fending himself off from a jagged rock with his -forearm, kicked out and caught the downed Syssokan in the belly. As the -soldier subsided, the Terran snatched up the spear and rose to face -the other one. - -It had all gone so fast that the leader was just turning back. Perhaps -he thought merely that his companion had fallen, but the stocky -silhouette of the spacer disabused him of that idea. He advanced with -the point of his spear weaving about menacingly. - -"You think you're good with that stick, eh?" growled Taranto. "Well, -try this for something different!" - -Gripping his spear near the head, he swung the heavier butt like a bat, -putting as much power into it as he could. It was crude, but he knew -better than to try to match skills with a soldier trained to the use of -the weapon. - -The butt cracked resoundingly against the shaft of the Syssokan's -spear, tearing it from the grip of his leading hand. Taranto's own -hands were numbed by the shock. He dropped his spear and slid inside -the Syssokan's one-handed grip before it could be reinforced. The feint -of a left hook to the belly made the soldier relinquish his weapon -completely and grapple with the spacer. - -Taranto found his left arm entwined with the right of the Syssokan. He -tried twice to punch to the body with his free hand but was smothered. -Before he could think of it himself, the Syssokan stamped hard upon his -toes. - -"Bastard!" spat the spacer. - -He butted, successfully but profitlessly. He rabbit-punched twice with -his right hand, reaching around under the soldier's armpit. Only when -he gouged at a large, black eye did the defending arm come up. - -Taranto set his feet and banged three times to the midsection, getting -plenty of body twist into his motion. - -He found himself holding a very limp Syssokan, who slid down as the -spacer stepped back. - -Taranto sucked in a gasping breath. He staggered aside to pick up the -spears, feeling better now that he was armed, no matter how primitively. - -He had hardly straightened up when he saw the officer round the edge -of the little butte, a mere fifty feet away. The Syssokan hesitated at -the sight of the Terran standing over two of his soldiers, and Taranto -threw one of the spears. - -The trouble was that he did not know how to handle one. A spear, after -all, was not standard equipment on a spaceship. The point twisted away -from the target, and much of the force went into a slow spin. The -officer hissed a disdainful comment and caught the weapon out of the -air with one hand. - -Taranto stooped for a rock, which he hurled with more effect. It -shattered with a fine crack against the cliff near enough to the -Syssokan to make him throw himself behind a boulder for cover. Taranto -left him in the middle of a yell to his soldiers and sprinted off into -the open valley. - -Carrying the spear did not help matters much, but he thought the -Syssokans might regard it as a more dangerous deterrent than he knew -it to be in his untrained hands. The next time he looked around, he -saw that he could rejoice in a splendid lead of two hundred yards. On -the other hand, the officer now had a numerous group with him, and -would probably get organized at last. Taranto slowed to a jog, to save -himself against the time when they should begin to catch up. - -"Taranto!" said a small voice. - -He broke automatically into a dead run, without even looking around. - -"Wait, Taranto!" called the little voice. "Look up, for the spy-eye!" - -The spacer slowed as understanding burst upon him. He looked back and -saw a spark of light gaining on him. It arrived and hovered over his -head. - -"It may still work," the voice informed him. "The ship is down. I -told them what happened, and they're putting up a helicopter. Where's -Meyers?" - -"I don't know," said Taranto. "Back on the ridge, I guess. Look, I -can't just stand here until that 'copter comes. I'll be a pincushion." - -"Head for that hill ahead about a quarter-mile," said the voice from -the little flyer. "I'll guide them there." - -The Syssokans were running now, spreading out in a well-drilled manner. -Taranto boosted himself into high speed again. - -The hill ahead was more toward the center of the valley. If the -pursuers were aware of some connection between his flight and the -position of the spaceship, they would be satisfied to have him heading -away from the ridge enclosing the valley. Taranto hoped that they would -not worry enough to turn on a burst of speed, for he was convinced that -they could outrun him. - -He was right--he reached the steep slopes of the hill with a bare fifty -yards left of his lead, and he was on the point of foundering at that. -His knees buckled for an instant as he hit the first rise, and he saved -himself from pitching on his face only by thrusting out the butt of the -spear he carried. - -Somehow, he made it another fifty feet up the slope, hearing the voice -beside his ear say, "To the right, Taranto! Head for that flat spot! -Here comes the helicopter." - -He wiped salty sweat from his eyes with the back of one hand and -looked up. A large, quietly whirring shape shadowed the stars. It -dropped rapidly toward him as a howl broke out behind him. - -Taranto took the spear in both hands, holding it at one end, and sent -it whirling end over end at the closing Syssokans. The whole center of -the group dropped flat to let it swish over their heads. - -Before they could rise, the helicopter reached Taranto. It came down -so fast it bounced against the ground. Someone held out a hand to -Taranto and yelled to him to jump. He was hauled into an open cockpit. -Someone took a deathgrip on the waistband of his pants and he felt the -helicopter climb. - -He wiggled around until he could get his knees under him. There were -two spacers in the cockpit of what was obviously an auxiliary craft -from a spaceship. One of them, a very long-eared type with a narrow -head, looked as if he had been born in some stellar colony. The other -had a broad, bland face of an oriental Terran. - -"Where is the other one?" asked the latter. - -Taranto crept between the seats to which they were strapped before -answering, for there were only chains at the open sides. He got his -bearings, and directed the long-eared pilot to the ridge where he had -rolled out of the litter. - -It nearly broke his heart to see them reach it in less than a minute. - -"There may be guards with him," he warned. "Maybe he took off too." - -"We shall see," said the broad-faced spacer. - -He ran a spotlight along the ridge, stopped, and brought it back to -bear upon a lonely figure. Meyers stood up and waved. No Syssokan was -in sight; the officer must have taken them all with him. - -_He knew what he was doing_, thought Taranto. _The guy's still here._ - -The helicopter eased down to hover over a large rock. Meyers climbed -laboriously upon it and was hauled aboard. Taranto squeezed himself -back behind the seats to make room. - -"It's about time you got here," puffed Meyers. "I'm worn out." - -Taranto said nothing as the craft rose in the air and swooped off -toward the spaceship. Someday, Meyers would ask how he had gotten away -from the Syssokans. When it happened, Taranto swore to himself, he -would _show_ the slob. - - - - -NINETEEN - - -It was twenty after eight when Westervelt found himself back at the -communications room with Smith. Rosenkrantz had alerted them to a -message coming in from Syssoka. - -"They didn't expect to hit us during office hours," he explained, "but -as long as you're here, I thought maybe you'd like to get it fresh." - -Smith had told the girls to pass the word to Lydman and Parrish, and -Westervelt had followed him down the hall with the feeling that he -had displayed his eye under the good lighting long enough. Now they -listened as a slim, brown-haired man with a faintly scholarly aura -completed his report on the escape of Louis Taranto and Harley Meyers, -spacers. - -Joe Rosenkrantz was fiddling with an auxiliary screen and murmuring -into another microphone. - - -"... so it was a rather close call, even though the formula you sent -us appears to have worked perfectly," said the scholarly man. "I have -not been able to determine exactly what caused the delay on the part of -the Syssokans, since it seemed imprudent to display my little flying -spy-eye where it might be seen, or even damaged." - -"Maybe you can pick up some rumors in the future," suggested Smith. "If -you do, we'd appreciate hearing them, to add to our file and make the -case as complete as possible." - -The transmission lag was much less than that occurring with Trident. -The D.I.R. man on Syssoka agreed to forward any subsequent discoveries. - -"Those spacers you contacted are already heading out-system," he told -Smith. "I think they did a nice, clean job. It was too bad that they -were seen at all, of course, but it will be news to me if the Syssokans -drop around with any embarrassing questions." - -"Well, there _is_ a large foreign quarter there," Smith recalled. "Why -should they suspect Terrans, after all?" - -"Oh, they will, they will. They suspect everyone; but they must know so -little that I feel sure I can bluff them. I can prove that I was here -at the official residence all day." - -"Good!" said Smith. "Just in passing, I take it that no one was much -hurt?" - -The man on Syssokan grinned briefly. - -"No one on our side," he said, "although I understand the prisoners -were suffering some from exhaustion and dehydration. This Louis Taranto -seems to be quite a lad. There is reason to believe that he killed two -or three of his guards with his bare hands--at least I saw the burial -party carrying bodies with them as they marched the rest of the way -back to the city." - -Smith laughed. - -"I'll have to add a note opposite his name and contact him. I could use -a field agent like that! Well, my operator tells me I have another call -coming in. Thanks for your work on this." - -"A pleasure," said the man on Syssoka. "I really didn't expect to -contact you directly; my relative-time atlas must be a little old." - -"No, it's just that we never sleep, you know," quipped Smith, and -signed off. - -He looked around, saw that it was Parrish who had entered, and added, -"At least, it _looks_ as if we'll never sleep. I'm getting tired of it -myself." - -"So is everybody except Joe, here," said Parrish. "A com man isn't -normal anyway." - -"You gotta learn not to let all this stuff coming through bother you," -said Rosenkrantz wisely. "If I soaked up all these crazy calls, I'd -have nightmares every day. As it is, I'm as normal as anybody when I -leave here." - -"You haven't been with us long enough," said Smith. "What else do you -have there?" - -"There was a routine memo to make a check with the planet Greenhaven," -said Rosenkrantz. "I cleared it when a good time came. The D.I.R. -station there pretended not to know what I was talking about." - -"What?" yelped Smith. "Don't tell me we goofed on another one!" - -"I don't think so," said Rosenkrantz. "While you were talking to -Syssoka, a spaceship named _Vulpecula_ called, said there was reason to -believe the Greenhaven D.I.R. was locally monitored." - -"Tapped or the scrambler system broken," said Parrish. "What does this -ship want to talk about?" - -"The Ringstad case." - -"Joe, godammit, who says you're normal?" demanded Smith. "I bet we've -sprung another one! Two in one night--we're coming out with a good -average after all. Get them on the screen before I pop my tanks!" - -Westervelt listened to the transmission from the spaceship. Without the -help of a planetary relay at the far end, it tended to be a trifle weak -and wavery, but the essentials came through. He left Smith and Parrish -patting each other on the back and went back to tell the girls about it. - -They clustered around him in the main office, even Pauline leaving her -cubicle for a moment and keeping one ear pointed at the switchboard -inside. - -"You should have heard Smitty conning her out of writing us up for the -news magazines," said Westervelt. "She seems to be pretty famous in her -line." - -"What was she like?" asked Simonetta. - -"She looked blondish, but the color wasn't coming across too well. -Not bad looking, in a breezy sort of way. The agent that sprung her -had to skip too, because he thought the Greenhavens--they call them -Greenies--had spotted his disguise." - -"Oh, boy!" breathed Pauline. "The cops must have been hot on their -trail!" - -"Either that, or he wanted to go along with her for other reasons," -said Westervelt. "They seemed kind of chummy." - -"Can they do that?" asked Beryl. "I mean, without orders, and all that?" - -Westervelt grinned. - -"I don't know," he admitted, "but he's doing it. He can't go back now. -Anyway, Smitty simmered down fast and promised a draft for expenses -would be waiting for him when the ship made planetfall. Technically, -the D.I.R. ought to pay, because it turns out the guy is on their rolls -and was only working with us temporarily." - -Simonetta nodded wisely. - -"You watch our boss," she predicted. "He'll have this man on our lists. -He always gets free with the money when he sees a good prospect from -the main branch. Even if they stay in the honest side of the outfit, -they co-operate with the back room here." - -Smith walked in with Parrish, beaming. His eye found Westervelt. - -"Willie," he said, "make a note, and tomorrow look up the planet -Rotchen II. I have to send credits, and I didn't want to say into wide, -wide space that I didn't know where it is. Bad for the department's -prestige!" - -He looked about genially. - -"I see you've told the news," he commented. "It was a lift for me too. -We haven't done too badly, after all. Won two, lost one--damn!--and one -is still a stalemate." - -"Anyone tell Bob?" asked Parrish quietly. - -They all exchanged searching glances. Smith began to lose some of his -ebullience. After a moment, he turned to Pauline. - -"Buzz his office!" he said in a preoccupied tone. - -Westervelt tried to subdue a mild chill along the backbone as Pauline -gave Smith a wide-eyed look and slipped into her cubbyhole. - -_He couldn't have phoned downstairs_, he reassured himself. _Pauline -would say all the lines were busy, or cut off or something. But what if -he looked out a window?_ - -Smith had sauntered over to the center desk, where he waited beside the -phone. It seemed to be taking Pauline a long time. - -"Check with Joe," advised Parrish. "Then try around the other rooms. -Ten to one he's in the lab." - -"Has anyone seen him in the last half hour?" asked Smith. - -Westervelt pointed out that he had been the chief's company in the -communications room. The girls had not seen Lydman, but admitted that -he might have gone past in the corridor without their having noticed. - -"Yeah, he doesn't make much noise," Parrish agreed. - -Smith had a thought. He moved toward his own office, paused to jerk his -head significantly toward Parrish's, and opened his own door. Parrish -went over past Beryl's desk and thrust his head into his own office. -Lydman was not in either room. - -"Mr. Smith!" called Pauline in a worried tone. "I'm sorry, but I can't -seem to reach him." - -"Oh, Christ!" said Parrish. "He isn't talking again!" - -He did something Westervelt had never seen that self-possessed man -resort to before this evening. He began to gnaw nervously upon a -knuckle. He saw the youth staring, and snatched his hand from his mouth. - -Smith glowered unhappily at the floor. Westervelt thought he could hear -his own pulse, so quiet had the office grown. - -The chief backed up to the unpleasant decision. - -"We'd better spread out and wander around until someone sees him face -to face," he said. "If he wants to be let alone, let him alone! Just -pass the word on where he is." - -Westervelt volunteered to go down one wing while Parrish took the -other. As they left, cautioned to take their time and act natural, -Smith was telling the girls to open the doors to the adjacent offices -again and keep their ears tuned, in case Lydman should come looking for -him or Parrish. - -Westervelt turned right past the stairs, and went to the door of the -library. - -_It will be perfectly natural_, he told himself. _We made out on two -cases. I just want to tell him about it, in case he hasn't heard. Why -the hell don't they get that cable fixed? They want their bills paid on -time, don't they?_ - -He could hear the newcasts now, about how tough a job the electricians -faced, and how tense was the situation. Westervelt decided he would not -listen. - -He opened the door to the library casually and sauntered in. The pose -was wasted; Lydman was not there. - -Westervelt went on to the conference room on this side, and found it -empty as well. He looked in on Joe Rosenkrantz, who, from the door, -appeared to be alone. Just to leave no stone unturned, he retreated up -the hall to the door marked "Shaft" and poked his head inside. He had -to grope around for a light switch, and when he found it was rewarded -with nothing more than the sight of a number of conduits running from -floor to unfinished ceiling. A little dust drifted down on him from -atop the ones that bent to run to outlets on the same floor. - -"Well, nobody can say I overlooked anything," grumbled Westervelt. - -He went back to the communications room. Rosenkrantz was listening -in on some conversation from a station on Luna that was none of his -business. - -"Any sign of Lydman around here?" asked Westervelt. - -"Not since the Yoleen brawl," grunted Rosenkrantz. "That's a -good-looking babe running that Lunar station. Why can't we dig up some -messages for them?" - -"I'll work on it," promised Westervelt halfheartedly. - -He walked quietly around the corner past the power equipment. No -Lydman. The next step was the laboratory. He looked at his watch, then -leaned against the wire mesh partition for a good ten minutes. Let -Parrish cover the ground, he decided. - -In the end, with no sign of Parrish or Lydman, he opened the door and -stepped into the dark laboratory. He made his way cautiously ahead, -thinking that Lydman was probably in his office. Feeling his path with -slow steps, and carefully avoiding the possibility of tipping over any -of the stacks of cartons, he had progressed to the center of the large -chamber when the lights went on. - -Westervelt felt as if he had jumped a foot, and the blood pounded -through his veins. - -Gaping around with open mouth, he finally met the eye of Pete Parrish, -who stood half inside the doorway to the corridor, his hand still -raised to the light switch. - -They both relaxed. Parrish smiled feebly, with less than normal display -of his fine teeth. Westervelt contented himself with passing a hand -across his forehead. It came away damp. - -"Well," said Parrish, "where was he?" - -Westervelt closed his eyes and groaned. - -"You're kidding," he said. "Please say you're kidding! It's too late in -the day to fool around, Pete." - -Parrish looked alarmed. He strode forward, letting the door close -behind him. Westervelt, finding himself shivering in a draft, went to -meet him. - -"I'm not kidding at all," said Parrish. "Did you look everywhere? Are -you sure?" - -"I even poked into the power shaft," retorted Westervelt. "Were you in -his office?" - -"Naturally. I checked everything, even the men's room." - -They had wandered back to the corridor door, peering about the -laboratory to make sure no one could have concealed himself on the -floor under a workbench, or behind a pile of cartons. - -Parrish opened the door, and they stood puzzling at the empty hall. - -"He wasn't even taking a shower," said the elder man. - -Westervelt brooded for a moment. - -"Did you say _everywhere_?" he insisted. - -"Well ... everywhere he would have any call to go." - -They stood there, passing the buck silently back and forth between -them. At length, Parrish said, "I'll just look again in his office and -the other two rooms, in case he _was_, and slipped out behind me." - -Westervelt watched him run lightly up the hall to each of the doors. -Parrish's expression, as he returned slowly, was something to behold. - -"I'll go," said Westervelt grouchily. - -Parrish put a hand on his arm. - -"No, that wouldn't look natural. I'll phone Smitty to send one of the -girls down." - -"Better phone him to send two," suggested Westervelt. - -"Yeah," agreed Parrish. "That's even more natural. Watch the hall while -I buzz them." - -He went into Lydman's office. Westervelt leaned in the laboratory -doorway, feeling depressed. After some delay, he sighted Simonetta and -Beryl turning the far corner with their pocketbooks in hand. Neither -one looked particularly pleased, but their expressions lightened a bit -at the sight of him. - -"You there, Pete?" murmured Westervelt. - -"Right at the door," whispered Parrish from inside Lydman's office. - -The girls clicked in muffled unison along the hall. Beryl paused at the -entrance to the ladies' rest room. She raised her eyebrows uncertainly -at Simonetta. The dark girl threw Westervelt a puzzled shrug, then -pushed past Beryl and went inside. The blonde followed almost on her -heels. - -Westervelt waited. When he thought he could no longer stand it, Parrish -hissed, "How long are they in there, Willie?" - -"I don't know," said the youth, "but maybe we'd better--" - -The door opened. Simonetta and Beryl walked out, staring quizzically at -the two men, who had taken a few steps toward them. - -"What is this gag?" asked Simonetta. "There's no one in there. Who -would be in there?" - -Parrish swore luridly, and none of them seemed to notice. - -"It _can't_ be!" he exclaimed. "You're sure?" - -"Of course we're sure," said Beryl. - -"What if the power came on and we didn't notice?" mused Parrish. "He -wouldn't just leave and not tell any of us, would he?" - -"You know him better than I do," commented Beryl. "I'm beginning to -wonder, from what you told us on the phone, if he jumped out of a -window somewhere. I know it's a terrible thing to bring up--" - -Westervelt stopped listening to her. He was remembering the draft he -had felt, twice now, in the laboratory. - - - - -TWENTY - - -Westervelt watched them walk up the hall. He thought of going back into -the laboratory to find the open window. In his mind, he could see the -straight, twenty-five story drop down the side of the dark tower to the -roof of the larger part of the building. - -He recalled having looked down once or twice. The people down there had -paved patios outside their offices. A hurtling body would.... - -He shook the thought out of his head and hurried to catch up to Parrish -and the two girls. - -They trouped into the main office and took turns in telling Smith -the story. He flatly refused to believe it for about five minutes. -Ultimately convinced, he told Pauline to check Rosenkrantz by phone -every ten minutes. - -"If we're wrong," he said, "it's unfair to have him sitting down there -all alone. Bob might somehow have outsmarted us, but if he did it to -this extent, it means he isn't safe on the loose!" - -Westervelt noticed that Simonetta was looking pale. He wondered about -his own features. The eye would probably stand out very picturesquely. - -"I don't believe it," he said when the others had all fallen silent. - -They looked at him, hoping to be convinced. - -"He isn't that kind," said Westervelt. "All right, you tell me he had a -hard time in space and it left him a little off; but this doesn't sound -like the direction he would go off in." - -"What do you mean, Willie?" asked Smith intently. - -"Well ... maybe he'd run wild. Maybe he'd get desperate and blow -something up. I could see him taking a torch to that door and burning -anybody that tried to stop him...." - -He paused as they hung on his words. - -"... but I _can't_ see him quitting!" said Westervelt. "If he was that -kind, he never would have gotten back to Terra, would he?" - -Smith snapped his fingers and looked around. - -"Sure, sure," he said. "I don't know what I was thinking up in my -imagination. We've all heard Bob utter a threat now and then, when some -bems out in deep space broke his own private law, but no one ever heard -him even hint at suicide." - -He grinned ruefully, and added, "I should have thought of it myself--I -had to review his application and examinations when he came to us." - -"Some days," said Parrish, "are just too much. Nobody's fault." - -"Then, in that case," said Westervelt, "there was one little thing I -noticed." - -He told them about the open window. Who would keep a window open with -the building air-conditioning operating as perfectly as it did? - -Smith fell to running his hands through his hair again. - -"Now, let's _think_!" he muttered. "There must be some logical -explanation." - -_Logical explanations_, Westervelt thought, _are always the reasons -other people think of, not me._ - -He found a space to sit on the edge of the empty desk. Simonetta leaned -beside him, and Beryl wandered over to the window of the switchboard -cubicle to listen as Pauline checked Rosenkrantz. - -She shook her head to Smith's inquiring look. - -Then Lydman strolled through the double doors. - -"What's the conference about?" he asked. - -Beryl let out a shriek. Her back had been to the corridor when she -jumped, but she came down facing the other way. - -Everyone stiffened. - -Lydman stood quietly, regarding them with considerable calm. - -After a moment, Beryl tottered back to lean against the glass of -Pauline's window. She pressed one hand to her solar plexus, looking as -if she might fold up at any breath. - -"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Mr. Lydman...." - -He examined her with a clinical detachment. - -"Doesn't someone have a tranquilizer for her?" he asked. "I don't -usually scare pretty girls." - -"Oh, no, no, no ... it's just that ... I mean, everyone was worried -about you," stammered Beryl. - -"Why?" asked Lydman. "Don't you think I can take care of myself?" - -For the first time, Westervelt noticed the curiously set expression on -the ex-spacer's face. He had until then been too busy watching Beryl -and trying to calm his own nerves. He could not be certain, but it -seemed as if Lydman's forehead displayed a faint sheen of perspiration. - -"Of course you can, Bob," said Smith. "We were--" - -Beryl, nearly to the point of hysteria in her relief, got the ball away -from him. - -"We were worried about the elevator being stopped," she babbled. "And -the door--you'll never believe it, Mr. Lydman, but the door to the -emergency stairs wouldn't open!" - -Westervelt thought he heard Parrish swear, then realized it had been -his own voice. He started to step in front of Simonetta. - -Parrish was moving slowly in Lydman's direction, trying to look at ease -but looking tense instead. - -"Dammit!" shouted Smith. "Beryl, you're _fired_!" - -It did not seem to register on anybody, Beryl least of all. Lydman was -confounding them all by standing quietly. His face tightened a little -more at the news, but it did not seem to be the expression of a man who -had just taken a bad jolt. - -"I know," he said. "I looked at it a couple of times after I saw the -blackout downstairs." - -Smith regarded him warily. - -"How do you feel, Bob?" he asked. - -"You know how I feel," said Lydman. - -He let his gaze wander from one to another of them. Westervelt felt a -chill as the handsome eyes looked through him in turn, but accepted the -comforting realization that the stare was about as usual. - -Beryl was the picture of a girl afraid to breathe out loud, but the -others relaxed cautiously. Smith even planted one hip on the corner of -Simonetta's desk and tried to look casual. - -"You seem to be doing pretty well," he said. "We were thinking of -looking in the lab for something to cut the latch with, but it might -have been waste motion. They should be getting the power on any minute -now." - -"I think...." Lydman began. - -"Oh, I guess we could find something in the lists," pursued Smith. "If -you'd rather we look...?" - -"I have several things we could use," said Lydman. - -He walked into the office proper and looked about for a chair. -Westervelt stepped back of the center desk and brought him the chair -of the vacationing secretary. Lydman sat down beside the partition -screening the active files opposite Simonetta's desk. - -"In fact," continued the ex-space, "I got them out when I was trying to -figure how much that door would stand. Then I decided that would only -raise a commotion." - -Westervelt watched him with growing interest. Now that he had the man -at closer range, he was sure that it was a tremendous effort of will -that kept Lydman so relatively calm. The man seemed to be seething -underneath his tautly controlled exterior. - -"What did you think of doing?" asked Smith carefully. - -"Oh, I dug out a better gadget, one that would do _me_ more good, -anyhow," said Lydman. "It's a little rocket gun attached to a cannister -of fine wire ladder." - -"Wire ladder?" repeated Smith. - -"Yeah. About six inches wide at the most. I opened a window and shot it -up to the flight deck. Say--did you know some hijackers stole all three -of our 'copters?" - -"Stole all three of...." Smith's voice dwindled away. When no one else -broke the silence, he forced himself to resume. "Yes, I knew. What I -would deeply appreciate, Robert, is your telling me how the hell _you_ -knew!" - -He finished yelling. Westervelt thought that he looked at least as bad -as Lydman. Anyone twenty feet away would have completely misjudged them. - -"Just as I said," answered Lydman with his tight calm. "I shot this -ladder to the roof and climbed up." - -"You climbed up? _Outside the building?_" - -"Of course, outside," said Lydman, for the first time showing a trace -of snappishness. "I couldn't stand it _inside_." - -He looked around at them again, surprised that there was the slightest -hesitation to accept his statement. - -"We'll have to redesign that ladder, though," he said. "It's a mite too -fine--cuts the hell out of your hands!" - -He held out his palms. Across each were several welts. One, on his -right hand, had apparently resumed bleeding stickily since Lydman had -come in. He fumbled out a handkerchief with his other hand and blotted -it. - -Smith held his hands to his head. - -"I can't swallow it yet!" he groaned. "You feel ... uneasy ... in here, -so you go out a window ninety-nine floors in the air--" - -"Only twenty-four above the set-back, really," Lydman corrected him. - -"It's enough, isn't it? So you go out, climb up to the helicopter -roof, and _then_ climb down again and back through the window! And you -pretend to feel better. I would have had a heart attack!" - -"Who wouldn't?" said Westervelt. - -The mere conception of what it must have been like made him feel sick. - -"As long as I know it's there," muttered Lydman. "As long as I know -it's there. I can use that way any time. Just don't anybody pull that -little ladder down." - -"Would...?" - -The meek little syllable came from Beryl, who had now managed to stand -without the support of the partition. - -Every head in the room swiveled to bear upon her. She gulped, and found -part of her voice. - -"Would there be an old martini lying around in the locker?" she asked. -"I'm afraid to go for it myself because my knees feel as if they'll -collapse at the first step." - -There was a general outburst of laughter that revealed the enormity of -their relief. Parrish hurried over to put an arm around the blonde, and -Smith himself went to the locker and opened it. - -With the break in the tension, Beryl managed to walk pretty well, -perhaps with a little more swagger of the hips than usual, Westervelt -thought. Smith found a drink for her, and insisted that Lydman have -tea. The chief pulled the tab himself and held the cup for the few -seconds required to heat the beverage. - -Most of them, like Westervelt, had had too many coffees or sandwiches, -and were content to sit down and regain their composure. Westervelt was -mildly surprised to see Parrish take a position behind Lydman and knead -the big man's neck muscles to relax him. - -"Did they tell you the news yet?" asked Smith. "We got two out--Syssoka -and Greenhaven!" - -"No!" said Lydman, managing a smile. "Tell me, but if I get up to leave -in the middle, I'd rather you didn't stop me." - -"Nobody is stopping anybody tonight!" said Smith, and fell to giving -his assistant an account of Taranto and Meyers. - -Westervelt got up quietly and padded into the switchboard cubbyhole. - -"Lend me your headset, Pauline," he murmured, "and punch Joe's number." - -"Sure," said the little blonde. - -She left the screen off and kissed him behind the ear just as -Rosenkrantz answered. - -"Nothing personal, Willie," she giggled. "I just feel so relieved!" - -"Who is it now?" demanded Rosenkrantz's voice. "You left the lens off, -did you know that?" - -"It's Willie, Joe. He came back and he's sitting down having tea." - -"_Back?_ Where was he?" - -Westervelt told him. - -Then he told him again and switched off. Joe, he thought, would have to -live with it for a while. - -When he stepped out of the cubicle, everyone was watching Smith -narrate, with broad gestures, the flummoxing of the staid authorities -of Greenhaven. The chief was not above calling upon Parrish for an -estimate of the charms of Maria Ringstad that caused an outcry among -the girls. Lydman smiled politely, but not from the heart. He was still -quietly reserved. - -Everyone was watching Smith. No one paid any attention to the redhaired -man who drifted into the office area just as Westervelt squirmed past -Pauline and stepped out of the switchboard room. - -The youth blinked at the topcoat over the man's arm. He focused upon -the wavy hair and reached for the man's shoulder to turn him around. - -"Charlie Colborn!" he yelped. - -Smith got it first. - -"Well, now," he said, standing up. "If it's getting so everybody and -his brother start parading through that door at this time of night, I'm -leaving! Where's my hat, Si?" - -Lydman had caught on almost as quickly, and was on his feet before the -general whoop went up. - -"I just want to phone my wife," said Colborn. "It's so late I might as -well stay here the rest of the night. What's keeping all of you?" - -They glared at him. - -"The power's been on for fifteen minutes," he told them. "I would have -been up sooner, but that nut of a building manager insisted on running -test trips with all the elevators before he'd let anyone come up." - -Lydman had started for the elevator, in shirtsleeves as he was and -carrying a cup of tea in one hand and a bloody handkerchief. There was -no doubt that he meant to go home that way. - -"BOB!" roared Smith. "All of you--_listen_!" - -Lydman stopped but did not turn around. - -"In the first place, Charlie," said Smith, "you are _not_ going to call -your wife from here unless you faithfully give the impression that you -are all alone. If you slip, I'll swear to her I saw you picked up by -two redheads in a helicopter and you had all the office petty cash with -you." - -"But--" - -"Tell her the traffic was too much. Don't tell her we couldn't get to -the street. That goes for everybody else too!" - -"But ... _why_?" Colborn got out. - -"Why? You want the D.I.R. boys throwing this up to us every time I try -to get money out of them for the bare necessities of our operation? We -can get people out of dungeons on planets not even in the Galatlas, but -can't even escape from our own little hideaway?" - -"It never happened," Parrish agreed quickly. - -"Damn' right!" said Smith. "Okay, Bob, push the button! Go with him, -Willie! You girls--nobody in before noon tomorrow; we have an extra TV -operator to take care of things." - -"Look, I...." Colborn started to say as he stepped out of Westervelt's -way. - -"Aw, thanks for phoning in the first place," grinned Smith, punching -him lightly on the shoulder. "Wait for me downstairs, Willie! We'll see -what we can do about Harris tomorrow!" - -"Appoint him an ambassador," muttered Westervelt, coming up behind -Lydman as the elevator door slid smoothly open. - -_What an outfit!_ he thought to himself. _I'm going to apply for field -duty, where you can get out among the stars and let someone else figure -ways to keep you out of trouble._ - -Somehow, incredibly, everyone but Colborn managed to catch the same -elevator. - - - - -EARTHMEN IN TROUBLE - -Harris: was caged in an underwater "zoo" by a pack of blue lobsters. - -Maria: drew a five-year sentence on a puritanical planet for trying to -buy a souvenir--and for being excessively feminine. - -Taranto & Meyers: had committed the crime of being shipwrecked on a -planet that didn't like strangers. - -Gerson: was simply kidnapped--and nobody had any idea why. - -Five citizens of Terra were being held on other worlds--and the -ultra-secret _Department 99_ existed only to set them, and others like -them, free. - -This tense novel is the story of one evening's work for Department -99--their successes and failures--and of the strange crisis that almost -wrecked - -D-99 - -A PYRAMID BOOK 40c - -Cover painting by Ralph Brillhart - -Printed in U.S.A. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of D-99, by H.B. 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