Transcriber's Note:

This eBook was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ May 1959, pp. 92-111. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. 

[Illustration]

OPERATION HAYSTACK

BY FRANK HERBERT

Illustrated by van Dongen

_It's hard to ferret out a gang of fanatics; it would, obviously, beeven harder to spot a genetic line of dedicated men. But the problemOrne had was one step tougher than that!_

When the Investigation & Adjustment scout cruiser landed on Marak itcarried a man the doctors had no hope of saving. He was alive onlybecause he was in a womblike creche pod that had taken over most of hisvital functions. 

The man's name was Lewis Orne. He had been a blocky, heavy-muscledredhead with slightly off-center features and the hard flesh of a heavyplanet native. Even in the placid repose of near death there wassomething clownish about his appearance. His burned, ungent-covered facelooked made up for some bizarre show. 

Marak is the League capital, and the I-A medical center there isprobably the best in the galaxy, but it accepted the creche pod and Ornemore as a curiosity than anything else. The man had lost one eye, threefingers of his left hand and part of his hair, suffered a broken jaw andvarious internal injuries. He had been in terminal shock for more thanninety hours. 

Umbo Stetson, Orne's section chief, went back into his cruiser's"office" after a hospital flitter took pod and patient. There was anadded droop to Stetson's shoulders that accentuated his usual slouchingstance. His overlarge features were drawn into ridges of sorrow. Ageneral straggling, trampish look about him was not helped by patchedblue fatigues. 

The doctor's words still rang in Stetson's ears: "This patient's vitaltone is too low to permit operative replacement of damaged organs. He'lllive for a while because of the pod, but--" And the doctor had shrugged. 

Stetson slumped into his desk chair, looked out the open port besidehim. Some four hundred meters below, the scurrying beetlelike activityof the I-A's main field sent up discordant roaring and clattering. Tworows of other scout cruisers were parked in line with Stetson'sport--gleaming red and black needles. He stared at them without reallyseeing them. 

_It always happens on some "routine" assignment_, he thought. _Nothingbut a slight suspicion about Heleb: the fact that only women held highoffice. One simple, unexplained fact . . . And I lose my best agent!_

He sighed, turned to his desk, began composing the report:

"The militant core on the Planet Heleb has been eliminated. Occupationforce on the ground. No further danger to Galactic peace expected fromthis source. Reason for operation: Rediscovery & Re-education--_aftertwo years on the planet_--failed to detect signs of militancy. The majorindications were: 1) a ruling caste restricted to women, and 2)disparity between numbers of males and females _far_ beyond the Lutignorm! Senior Field Agent Lewis Orne found that the ruling caste wascontrolling the sex of offspring at conception (see attached details), and had raised a male slave army to maintain its rule. The R&R agent hadbeen drained of information, then killed. Arms constructed on the basisof that information caused critical injuries to Senior Field Agent Orne. He is not expected to live. I am hereby urging that he receive theGalaxy Medal, and that his name be added to the Roll of Honor. "

Stetson pushed the page aside. That was enough for ComGO, who never readanything but the first page anyway. Details were for his aides to chewand digest. They could wait. Stetson punched his desk callbox for Orne'sservice record, set himself to the task he most detested: notifying nextof kin. He read, pursing his lips:

"Home Planet: Chargon. Notify in case of accident or death: Mrs. Victoria Orne, mother. "

He leafed through the pages, reluctant to send the hated message. Ornehad enlisted in the Marak Marines at age seventeen--a runaway fromhome--and his mother had given post-enlistment consent. Two years later:scholarship transfer to Uni-Galacta, the R&R school here on Marak. Fiveyears of school and one R&R field assignment under his belt, and he hadbeen drafted into the I-A for brilliant detection of militancy onHammel. And two years later--_kaput_!

Abruptly, Stetson hurled the service record at the gray metal wallacross from him; then he got up, brought the record back to his desk, smoothing the pages. There were tears in his eyes. He flipped a switchon his desk, dictated the notification to Central Secretarial, orderedit sent out priority. Then he went groundside and got drunk on HocharBrandy, Orne's favorite drink. 

 * * * * *

The next morning there was a reply from Chargon: "Lewis Orne's mothertoo ill to travel. Sisters being notified. Please ask Mrs. IpscottBullone of Marak, wife of the High Commissioner, to take over forfamily. " It was signed: "Madrena Orne Standish, sister. "

With some misgivings, Stetson called the residence of Ipscott Bullone, leader of the majority party in the Marak Assembly. Mrs. Bullone tookthe call with blank screen. There was a sound of running water in thebackground. Stetson stared at the grayness swimming in his desk visor. He always disliked a blank screen. A baritone husk of a voice slid:"This is Polly Bullone. "

Stetson introduced himself, relayed the Chargon message. 

"Victoria's boy dying? Here? Oh, the poor thing! And Madrena's back onChargon . . . The election. Oh, yes, of course. I'll get right over to thehospital!"

Stetson signed off, broke the contact. 

_The High Commissioner's wife yet!_ he thought. Then, because he had todo it, he walled off his sorrow, got to work. 

At the medical center, the oval creche containing Orne hung from ceilinghooks in a private room. There were humming sounds in the dim, waterygreenness of the room, rhythmic chuggings, sighings. Occasionally, adoor opened almost soundlessly, and a white-clad figure would check thegraph tapes on the creche's meters. 

Orne was lingering. He became the major conversation piece at theinternes' coffee breaks: "That agent who was hurt on Heleb, he's stillwith us. Man, they must build those guys different from the rest ofus!. . . Yeah! Understand he's got only about an eighth of his insides . . . Liver, kidneys, stomach--all gone. . . . Lay you odds he doesn't last outthe month. . . . Look what old sure-thing McTavish wants to bet on!"

On the morning of his eighty-eighth day in the creche, the day nursecame into Orne's room, lifted the inspection hood, looked down at him. The day nurse was a tall, lean-faced professional who had learned tomeet miracles and failures with equal lack of expression. However, thisroutine with the dying I-A operative had lulled her into a state ofpsychological unpreparedness. _Any day now, poor guy_, she thought. Andshe gasped as she opened his sole remaining eye, said:

"Did they clobber those dames on Heleb?"

"Yes, sir!" she blurted. "They really did, sir!"

"Good!"

Orne closed his eye. His breathing deepened. 

The nurse rang frantically for the doctors. 

It had been an indeterminate period in a blank fog for Orne, then a timeof pain and the gradual realization that he was in a creche. Had to be. He could remember his sudden exposure on Heleb, the explosion--thennothing. Good old creche. It made him feel safe now, shielded from alldanger. 

Orne began to show minute but steady signs of improvement. In anothermonth, the doctors ventured an intestinal graft that gave him a newspurt of energy. Two months later, they replaced missing eye andfingers, restored his scalp line, worked artistic surgery on his burnscars. 

Fourteen months, eleven days, five hours and two minutes after he hadbeen picked up "as good as dead, " Orne walked out of the hospital underhis own power, accompanied by a strangely silent Umbo Stetson. 

Under the dark blue I-A field cape, Orne's coverall uniform fitted hisonce muscular frame like a deflated bag. But the pixie light hadreturned to his eyes--even to the eye he had received from a namelessand long dead donor. Except for the loss of weight, he looked to be thesame Lewis Orne. If he was different--beyond the "spare parts"--it wassomething he only suspected, something that made the idea, "twice-born, "not a joke. 

 * * * * *

Outside the hospital, clouds obscured Marak's green sun. It wasmidmorning. A cold spring wind bent the pile lawn, tugged fitfully atthe border plantings of exotic flowers around the hospital's landingpad. 

Orne paused on the steps above the pad, breathed deeply of the chillair. "Beautiful day, " he said. 

Stetson reached out a hand to help Orne down the steps, hesitated, putthe hand back in his pocket. Beneath the section chief's look of wearysuperciliousness there was a note of anxiety. His big features were setin a frown. The drooping eyelids failed to conceal a sharp, measuringstare. 

Orne glanced at the sky to the southwest. "The flitter ought to be hereany minute. " A gust of wind tugged at his cape. He staggered, caught hisbalance. "I _feel_ good. "

"You look like something left over from a funeral, " growled Stetson. 

"Sure--my funeral, " said Orne. He grinned. "Anyway, I was getting tiredof that walk-around-type morgue. All my nurses were married. "

"I'd almost stake my life that I could trust you, " muttered Stetson. 

Orne looked at him. "No, no, Stet . . . Stake _my_ life. I'm used to it. "

Stetson shook his head. "No, dammit! I trust you, but you deserve apeaceful convalescence. We've no right to saddle you with--"

"Stet?" Orne's voice was low, amused. 

"Huh?" Stetson looked up. 

"Let's save the noble act for someone who doesn't know you, " said Orne. "You've a job for me. O. K. You've made the gesture for your conscience. "

Stetson produced a wolfish grin. "All right. So we're desperate, and wehaven't much time. In a nutshell, since you're going to be a house guestat the Bullones'--we suspect Ipscott Bullone of being the head of aconspiracy to take over the government. "

"What do you mean--_take over the government_?" demanded Orne. "TheGalactic High Commissioner _is_ the government--subject to theConstitution and the Assemblymen who elected him. "

"We've a situation that could explode into another Rim War, and we thinkhe's at the heart of it, " said Stetson. "We've eighty-one touchyplanets, all of them old-line steadies that have been in the League foryears. And on every one of them we have reason to believe there's a clanof traitors sworn to overthrow the League. Even on your homeplanet--Chargon. "

"You want me to go home for my convalescence?" asked Orne. "Haven't beenthere since I was seventeen. I'm not sure that--"

"No, dammit! We want you as the Bullones' house guest! And speaking ofthat, would you mind explaining how they were chosen to ride herd onyou?"

"There's an odd thing, " said Orne. "All those gags in the I-A about oldUpshook Ipscott Bullone . . . And then I find that his wife went to schoolwith my mother. "

"Have you met Himself?"

"He brought his wife to the hospital a couple of times. "

Again, Stetson looked to the southwest, then back to Orne. A pensivelook came over his face. "Every schoolkid knows how the Nathians and theMarakian League fought it out in the Rim War--how the old civilizationfell apart--and it all seems kind of distant, " he said. 

"Five hundred standard years, " said Orne. 

"And maybe no farther away than yesterday, " murmured Stetson. He clearedhis throat. 

 * * * * *

And Orne wondered why Stetson was moving so cautiously. _Something deeptroubling him. _ A sudden thought struck Orne. He said: "You spoke oftrust. Has this conspiracy involved the I-A?"

"We think so, " said Stetson. "About a year ago, an R&R archeologicalteam was nosing around some ruins on Dabih. The place was all butvitrified in the Rim War, but a whole bank of records from a Nathianoutpost escaped. " He glanced sidelong at Orne. "The Rah&Rah boyscouldn't make sense out of the records. No surprise. They called in anI-A crypt-analyst. He broke a complicated substitution cipher. When thestuff started making sense he pushed the panic button. "

"For something the Nathians wrote five hundred years ago?"

Stetson's drooping eyelids lifted. There was a cold quality to hisstare. "This was a routing station for key Nathian families, " he said. "Trained refugees. An old dodge . . . Been used as long as there'vebeen--"

"But five hundred _years_, Stet!"

"I don't care if it was five _thousand_ years!" barked Stetson. "We'veintercepted some scraps since then that were written in the _same_ code. The bland confidence of _that_! Wouldn't that gall you?" He shook hishead. "And every scrap we've intercepted deals with the comingelections. "

"But the election's only a couple of days off!" protested Orne. 

Stetson glanced at his wristchrono. "Forty-two hours to be exact, " hesaid. "Some deadline!"

"Any names in these old records?" asked Orne. 

Stetson nodded. "Names of planets, yes. People, no. Some code names, but no cover names. Code name on Chargon was _Winner_. That ring anybells with you?"

Orne shook his head. "No. What's the code name here?"

_"The Head, "_ said Stetson. "But what good does that do us? They're sureto've changed those by now. "

"They didn't change their communications code, " said Orne. 

"No . . . They didn't. "

"We must have something on them, some leads, " said Orne. He felt thatStetson was holding back something vital. 

"Sure, " said Stetson. "We have history books. They say the Nathians weretop drawer in political mechanics. We know for a fact they chose landingsites for their _refugees_ with diabolical care. Each family was told todig in, grow up with the adopted culture, develop the weak spots, buildan underground, train their descendants to take over. They set out tobore from within, to make victory out of defeat. The Nathians were longon patience. They came originally from nomad stock on Nathia II. Theirmythology calls them Arbs or Ayrbs. Go review your seventh gradehistory. You'll know almost as much as we do!"

"Like looking for the traditional needle in the haystack, " mutteredOrne. "How come you suspect High Commissioner Upshook?"

Stetson wet his lips with his tongue. "One of the Bullones' sevendaughters is currently at home, " he said. "Name's Diana. A field leaderin the I-A women. One of the Nathian code messages we intercepted hadher name as addressee. "

"Who sent the message?" asked Orne. "What was it all about?"

Stetson coughed. "You know, Lew, we cross-check everything. This messagewas signed M. O. S. The only M. O. S. That came out of the comparison was ona routine next-of-kin reply. We followed it down to the original copy, and the handwriting checked. Name of Madrena Orne Standish. "

"Maddie?" Orne froze, turned slowly to face Stetson. "So that's what'stroubling you!"

"We know you haven't been home since you were seventeen, " said Stetson. "Your record with us is clean. The question is--"

"Permit me, " said Orne. "The question is: Will I turn in my own sisterif it falls that way?"

Stetson remained silent, staring at him. 

"O. K. , " said Orne. "My job is seeing that we don't have another Rim War. Just answer me one question: How's Maddie mixed up in this? My familyisn't one of these traitor clans. "

"This whole thing is all tangled up with politics, " said Stetson. "Wethink it's because of her husband. "

"Ahhhh, the member for Chargon, " said Orne. "I've never met him. " Helooked to the southwest where a flitter was growing larger as itapproached. "Who's my cover contact?"

"That mini-transceiver we planted in your neck for the Gienah job, "said Stetson. "It's still there and functioning. Anything happens aroundyou, we hear it. "

[Illustration]

Orne touched the subvocal stud at his neck, moved his speaking muscleswithout opening his mouth. A surf-hissing voice filled the matchingtransceiver in Stetson's neck:

_"You pay attention while I'm making a play for this Diana Bullone, youhear? Then you'll know how an expert works. "_

"Don't get so interested in your work that you forget why you're outthere, " growled Stetson. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Bullone was a fat little mouse of a woman. She stood almost in thecenter of the guest room of her home, hands clasped across the paunch ofa long, dull silver gown. She had demure gray eyes, grandmotherly grayhair combed straight back in a jeweled net--and that shocking baritonehusk of a voice issuing from a small mouth. Her figure sloped out fromseveral chins to a matronly bosom, then dropped straight like a barrel. The top of her head came just above Orne's dress epaulets. 

"We want you to feel at home here, Lewis, " she husked. "You're toconsider yourself one of the family. "

Orne looked around at the Bullone guest room: low key furnishings withan old-fashioned selectacol for change of decor. A polawindow looked outonto an oval swimming pool, the glass muted to dark blue. It gave theoutside a moonlight appearance. There was a contour bed against onewall, several built-ins, and a door partly open to reveal bathroomtiles. Everything traditional and comfortable. 

"I already _do_ feel at home, " he said. "You know, your house is verylike our place on Chargon. I was surprised when I saw it from the air. Except for the setting, it looks almost identical. "

"I guess your mother and I shared ideas when we were in school, " saidPolly. "We were _very_ close friends. "

"You must've been to do all this for me, " said Orne. "I don't know howI'm ever going to--"

"Ah! Here we are!" A deep masculine voice boomed from the open doorbehind Orne. He turned, saw Ipscott Bullone, High Commissioner of theMarakian League. Bullone was tall, had a face of harsh angles and deeplines, dark eyes under heavy brows, black hair trained in recedingwaves. There was a look of ungainly clumsiness about him. 

_He doesn't strike me as the dictator type_, thought Orne. _But that'sobviously what Stet suspects. _

"Glad you made it out all right, son, " boomed Bullone. He advanced intothe room, glanced around. "Hope everything's to your taste here. "

"Lewis was just telling me that our place is very like his mother's homeon Chargon, " said Polly. 

"It's old fashioned, but we like it, " said Bullone. "Just a great bigtetragon on a central pivot. We can turn any room we want to the sun, the shade or the breeze, but we usually leave the main salon pointingnortheast. View of the capital, you know. "

"We have a sea breeze on Chargon that we treat the same way, " said Orne. 

"I'm sure Lewis would like to be left alone for a while now, " saidPolly. "This is his first day out of the hospital. We mustn't tire him. "She crossed to the polawindow, adjusted it to neutral gray, turned theselectacol, and the room's color dominance shifted to green. "There, that's more restful, " she said. "Now, if there's anything you need youjust ring the bell there by your bed. The autobutle will know where tofind us. "

The Bullones left, and Orne crossed to the window, looked out at thepool. The young woman hadn't come back. When the chauffeur-drivenlimousine flitter had dropped down to the house's landing pad, Orne hadseen a parasol and sunhat nodding to each other on the blue tiles besidethe pool. The parasol had shielded Polly Bullone. The sunhat had beenworn by a shapely young woman in swimming tights, who had rushed offinto the house. 

She was no taller than Polly, but slender and with golden red haircaught under the sunhat in a swimmer's chignon. She was notbeautiful--face too narrow with suggestions of Bullone's cragginess, andthe eyes overlarge. But her mouth was full-lipped, chin strong, andthere had been an air of exquisite assurance about her. The total effecthad been one of striking elegance--extremely feminine. 

Orne looked beyond the pool: wooded hills and, dimly on the horizon, abroken line of mountains. The Bullones lived in expensive isolation. Around them stretched miles of wilderness, rugged with planned neglect. 

_Time to report in_, he thought. Orne pressed the neck stud on histransceiver, got Stetson, told him what had happened to this point. 

"All right, " said Stetson. "Go find the daughter. She fits thedescription of the gal you saw by the pool. "

"That's what I was hoping, " said Orne. 

He changed into light-blue fatigues, went to the door of his room, lethimself out into a hall. A glance at his wristchrono showed that it wasshortly before noon--time for a bit of scouting before they calledlunch. He knew from his brief tour of the house and its similarity tothe home of his childhood that the hall let into the main living salon. The public rooms and men's quarters were in the outside ring. Secludedfamily apartments and women's quarters occupied the inner section. 

 * * * * *

Orne made his way to the salon. It was long, built around two sectionsof the tetragon, and with low divans beneath the view windows. The floorwas thick pile rugs pushed one against another in a crazy patchwork ofreds and browns. At the far end of the room, someone in blue fatigueslike his own was bent over a stand of some sort. The figure straightenedat the same time a tinkle of music filled the room. He recognized thered-gold hair of the young woman he had seen beside the pool. She waswielding two mallets to play a stringed instrument that lay on its sidesupported by a carved-wood stand. 

He moved up behind her, his footsteps muffled by the carpeting. Themusic had a curious rhythm that suggested figures dancing wildly aroundfirelight. She struck a final chord, muted the strings. 

"That makes me homesick, " said Orne. 

"Oh!" She whirled, gasped, then smiled. "You startled me. I thought Iwas alone. "

"Sorry. I was enjoying the music. "

"I'm Diana Bullone, " she said. "You're Mr. Orne. "

"Lew to all of the Bullone family, I hope, " he said. 

"Of course . . . Lew. " She gestured at the musical instrument. "This isvery old. Most find its music . . . Well, rather weird. It's been handeddown for generations in mother's family. "

"The kaithra, " said Orne. "My sisters play it. Been a long time sinceI've heard one. "

"Oh, of course, " she said. "Your mother's--" She stopped, lookedconfused. "I've got to get used to the fact that you're. . . . I mean thatwe have a strange man around the house who isn't _exactly_ strange. "

Orne grinned. In spite of the blue I-A fatigues and a rather severepulled-back hairdo, this was a handsome woman. He found himself likingher, and this caused him a feeling near self-loathing. She was asuspect. He couldn't afford to like her. But the Bullones were being sodecent, taking him in like this. And how was their hospitality beingrepaid? By spying and prying. Yet, his first loyalty belonged to theI-A, to the peace it represented. 

He said rather lamely: "I hope you get over the feeling that I'mstrange. "

"I'm over it already, " she said. She linked arms with him, said: "If youfeel up to it, I'll take you on the deluxe guided tour. "

By nightfall, Orne was in a state of confusion. He had found Dianafascinating, and yet the most comfortable woman to be around that he hadever met. She liked swimming, _paloika_ hunting, _ditar_ apples-- Shehad a "poo-poo" attitude toward the older generation that she said she'dnever before revealed to anyone. They had laughed like fools over utternonsense. 

Orne went back to his room to change for dinner, stopped before thepolawindow. The quick darkness of these low latitudes had pulled an ebonblanket over the landscape. There was city-glow off to the left, and anorange halo to the peaks where Marak's three moons would rise. _Am Ifalling in love with this woman?_ he asked himself. He felt like callingStetson, not to report but just to talk the situation out. And this madehim acutely aware that Stetson or an aide had heard everything saidbetween them that afternoon. 

 * * * * *

The autobutle called dinner. Orne changed hurriedly into a fresh loungeuniform, found his way to the small salon across the house. The Bullonesalready were seated around an old-fashioned bubble-slot table set withreal candles, golden _shardi_ service. Two of Marak's moons could beseen out the window climbing swiftly over the peaks. 

"You turned the house, " said Orne. 

"We like the moonrise, " said Polly. "It seems more romantic, don't youthink?" She glanced at Diana. 

Diana looked down at her plate. She was wearing a low-cut gown of_firemesh_ that set off her red hair. A single strand of _Reinach_pearls gleamed at her throat. 

Orne sat down in the vacant seat opposite her. _What a handsome woman!_he thought. 

Polly, on Orne's right, looked younger and softer in a green stola gownthat hazed her barrel contours. Bullone, across from her, wore blacklounging shorts and knee-length _kubi_ jacket of golden pearl cloth. Everything about the people and setting reeked of wealth, power. For amoment, Orne saw that Stetson's suspicions could have basis in fact. Bullone might go to any lengths to maintain this luxury. 

Orne's entrance had interrupted an argument between Polly and herhusband. They welcomed him, went right on without inhibition. Ratherthan embarrassing him, this made him feel more at home, more accepted. 

[Illustration]

"But I'm not running for office this time, " said Bullone patiently. "Whydo we have to clutter up the evening with that many people just to--"

"Our election night parties are traditional, " said Polly. 

"Well, I'd just like to relax quietly at home tomorrow, " he said. "Takeit easy with just the family here and not have to--"

"It's not like it was a _big_ party, " said Polly. "I've kept the list tofifty. "

Diana straightened, said: "This is an important election Daddy! Howcould you _possibly_ relax? There're seventy-three seats in question . . . The whole balance. If things go wrong in just the Alkes sector . . . Why. . . You could be sent back to the floor. You'd lose your job as . . . Why. . . Someone else could take over as--"

"Welcome to the job, " said Bullone. "It's a headache. " He grinned atOrne. "Sorry to burden you with this, m'boy, but the women of thisfamily run me ragged. I guess from what I hear that you've had a prettybusy day, too. " He smiled paternally at Diana. "And your first day outof the hospital. "

"She sets quite a pace, but I've enjoyed it, " said Orne. 

"We're taking the small flitter for a tour of the wilderness areatomorrow, " said Diana. "Lew can relax all the way. I'll do the driving. "

"Be sure you're back in plenty of time for the party, " said Polly. "Can't have--" She broke off at a low bell from the alcove behind her. "That'll be for me. Excuse me, please . . . No, don't get up. "

 * * * * *

Orne bent to his dinner as it came out of the bubble slot beside hisplate: meat in an exotic sauce, _Sirik_ champagne, _paloika au semil_. . . More luxury. 

Presently, Polly returned, resumed her seat. 

"Anything important?" asked Bullone. 

"Only a cancellation for tomorrow night. Professor Wingard is ill. "

"I'd just as soon it was cancelled down to the four of us, " saidBullone. 

_Unless this is a pose, this doesn't sound like a man who wants to grabmore power_, thought Orne. 

"Scottie, you should take more pride in your office!" snapped Polly. "You're an important man. "

"If it weren't for you, I'd be a nobody and prefer it, " said Bullone. Hegrinned at Orne. "I'm a political idiot compared to my wife. Never sawanyone who could call the turn like she does. Runs in her family. Hermother was the same way. "

Orne stared at him, fork raised from plate and motionless. A sudden ideahad exploded in his mind. 

"You must know something of this life, Lewis, " said Bullone. "Yourfather was member for Chargon once, wasn't he?"

"Yes, " murmured Orne. "But that was before I was born. He died inoffice. " He shook his head, thought: _It couldn't be . . . But--_

"Do you feel all right, Lew?" asked Diana. "You're suddenly so pale. "

"Just tired, " said Orne. "Guess I'm not used to so much activity. "

"And I've been a beast keeping you so busy today, " she said. 

"Don't you stand on ceremony here, son, " said Polly. She lookedconcerned. "You've been very sick, and we understand. If you're tired, you go right on into bed. "

Orne glanced around the table, met anxious attention in each face. Hepushed his chair back, said: "Well, if you really don't mind--"

"Mind!" barked Polly. "You scoot along now!"

"See you in the morning. Lew, " said Diana. 

He nodded, turned away, thinking: _What a handsome woman!_ As he starteddown the hall, he heard Bullone say to Diana: "Di, perhaps you'd betternot take that boy out tomorrow. After all, he _is_ supposed to be herefor a rest. " Her answer was lost as Orne entered the hall, closed thedoor. 

In the privacy of his room, Orne pressed the transceiver stud at hisneck, said: _"Stet?"_

A voice hissed in his ears: _"This is Mr. Stetson's relief. Orne, isn'tit?"_

_"Yes. I want a check right away on those Nathian records thearchaeologists found. Find out if Heleb was one of the planets theyseeded. "_

_"Right. Hang on. "_ There was a long silence, then: _"Lew, this is Stet. How come the question about Heleb?"_

_"Was it on that Nathian list?"_

_"Negative. Why'd you ask?"_

_"Are you sure, Stet? It'd explain a lot of things. "_

_"It's not on the lists, but . . . Wait a minute. "_ Silence. Then: _"Helebwas on line of flight to Auriga, and Auriga was on the list. We'vereason to doubt they put anyone down on Auriga. If their ship ran intotrouble--"_

_"That's it!"_ snapped Orne. 

_"Keep your voice down or talk subvocally. "_ ordered Stetson. _"Now, answer my question: What's up?"_

_"Something so fantastic it frightens me, "_ said Orne. _"Remember thatthe women who ruled Heleb bred female or male children by controllingthe sex of their offspring at conception. The method was unique. Infact, our medics thought it was impossible until--"_

_"You don't have to remind me of something we want buried andforgotten, "_ interrupted Stetson. _"Too much chance for misuse of thatformula. "_

_"Yes, "_ said Orne. _"But what if your Nathian underground is composedentirely of women bred the same way? What if the Heleb women were just abunch who got out of hand because they'd lost contact with the mainelement?"_

_"Holy Moley!"_ blurted Stetson. _"Do you have evidence--"_

_"Nothing but a hunch, "_ said Orne. _"Do you have a list of the guestswho'll be here for the election party tomorrow?"_

_"We can get it. Why?"_

_"Check for women who mastermind their husbands in politics. Let me knowhow many and who. "_

_"Lew, that's not enough to--"_

_"That's all I can give you for now, but I think I'll have more. Remember that . . . "_ he hesitated, spacing his words as a new thoughtstruck him _". . . The . . . Nathians . . . Were . . . Nomads. "_

 * * * * *

Day began early for the Bullones. In spite of its being election day, Bullone took off for his office an hour after dawn. "See what I meanabout this job owning you?" he asked Orne. 

"We're going to take it easy today, Lew, " said Diana. She took his handas they came up the steps after seeing her father to his limousineflitter. The sky was cloudless. 

Orne felt himself liking her hand in his--liking the feel of it toomuch. He withdrew his hand, stood aside, said: "Lead on. "

_I've got to watch myself_, he thought. _She's too charming. _

"I think a picnic, " said Diana. "There's a little lake with grassy banksoff to the west. We'll take viewers and a couple of good novels. This'llbe a do-nothing day. "

Orne hesitated. There might be things going on at the house that heshould watch. But no . . . If he was right about this situation, thenDiana could be the weak link. Time was closing in on them, too. Bytomorrow the Nathians could have the government completely undercontrol. 

It was warm beside the lake. There were purple and orange flowers abovethe grassy bank. Small creatures flitted and cheeped in the brush andtrees. There was a _groomis_ in the reeds at the lower end of the lake, and every now and then it honked like an old man clearing his throat. 

"When we girls were all at home we used to picnic here every Eight-day, "said Diana. She lay on her back on the groundmat they'd spread. Orne satbeside her facing the lake. "We made a raft over there on the otherside, " she said. She sat up, looked across the lake. "You know, I thinkpieces of it are still there. See?" She pointed at a jumble of logs. Asshe gestured, her hand brushed Orne's. 

Something like an electric shock passed between them. Without knowingexactly how it happened, Orne found his arms around Diana, their lipspressed together in a lingering kiss. Panic was very close to thesurface in Orne. He broke away. 

"I didn't plan for that to happen, " whispered Diana. 

"Nor I, " muttered Orne. He shook his head. "Sometimes things can getinto an awful mess!"

Diana blinked. "Lew . . . Don't you . . . Like me?"

He ignored the monitoring transceiver, spoke his mind. _They'll justthink it's part of the act_, he thought. And the thought was bitter. 

"Like you?" he asked. "I think I'm in love with you!"

She sighed, leaned against his shoulder. "Then what's wrong? You're notalready married. Mother had your service record checked. " Diana smiledimpishly. "Mother has second sight. "

 * * * * *

The bitterness was like a sour taste in Orne's mouth. He could see thepattern so clearly. "Di, I ran away from home when I was seventeen, " hesaid. 

"I know, darling. Mother's told me all about you. "

"You don't understand, " he said. "My father died before I was born. He--"

"It must've been very hard on your mother, " she said. "Left all alonewith her family . . . And a new baby on the way. "

"They'd known for a long time, " said Orne. "My father had _Broach's_disease, and they found out too late. It was already in the centralnervous system. "

"How horrible, " whispered Diana. 

Orne's mind felt suddenly like a fish out of water. He found himselfgrasping at a thought that flopped around just out of reach. "Dad was inpolitics, " he whispered. He felt as though he were living in a dream. His voice stayed low, shocked. "From when I first began to talk, Motherstarted grooming me to take his place in public life. "

"And you didn't like politics, " said Diana. 

"I hated it!" he growled. "First chance, I ran away. One of my sistersmarried a young fellow who's now the member for Chargon. I hope heenjoys it!"

"That'd be Maddie, " said Diana. 

"You know her?" asked Orne. Then he remembered what Stetson had toldhim, and the thought was chilling. 

"Of course I know her, " said Diana. "Lew, what's wrong with you?"

"You'd expect me to play the same game, you calling the shots, " he said. "Shoot for the top, cut and scramble, claw and dig. "

"By tomorrow all that may not be necessary, " she said. 

Orne heard the sudden hiss of the carrier wave in his neck transceiver, but there was no voice from the monitor. 

"What's . . . Happening . . . Tomorrow?" he asked. 

"The election, silly, " she said. "Lew, you're acting very strangely. Areyou sure you're feeling all right. " She put a hand to his forehead. "Perhaps we'd--"

"Just a minute, " said Orne. "About us--" He swallowed. 

She withdrew her hand. "I think my parents already suspect. We Bullonesare notorious love-at-first-sighters. " Her overlarge eyes studied himfondly. "You don't feel feverish, but maybe we'd better--"

"What a dope I am!" snarled Orne. "I just realized that I have to be aNathian, too. "

"You _just_ realized?" She stared at him. 

There was a hissing gasp in Orne's transceiver. 

"The identical patterns in our families, " he said. "Even to the houses. And there's the real key. What a dope!" He snapped his fingers. "_Thehead!_ Polly! Your mother's the grand boss woman, isn't she?"

"But, darling . . . Of course. She--"

"You'd better take me to her and fast!" snapped Orne. He touched thestud at his neck, but Stetson's voice intruded. 

_"Great work, Lew! We're moving in a special shock force. Can't take anychances with--"_

Orne spoke aloud in panic: _"Stet! You get out to the Bullones! And youget there alone! No troops!"_

Diana had jumped to her feet, backed away from him. 

_"What do you mean?"_ demanded Stetson. 

_"I'm saving our stupid necks!"_ barked Orne. _"Alone! You hear? Orwe'll have a worse mess on our hands than any Rim War!"_

There was an extended silence. _"You hear me, Stet?"_ demanded Orne. 

_"O. K. , Lew. We're putting the O-force on standby. I'll be at theBullones' in ten minutes. ComGO will be with me. "_ Pause. _"And you'dbetter know what you're doing!"_

It was an angry group in a corner of the Bullones' main salon. Louveredshades cut the green glare of a noon sun. In the background there wasthe hum of air-conditioning and the clatter of roboservants preparingfor the night's election party. Stetson leaned against the wall beside adivan, hands jammed deeply into the pockets of his wrinkled, patchedfatigues. The wagon tracks furrowed his high forehead. Near Stetson, Admiral Sobat Spencer, the I-A's Commander of Galactic Operations, pacedthe floor. ComGO was a bull-necked bald man with wide blue eyes, adeceptively mild voice. There was a caged animal look to hispacing--three steps out, three steps back. 

Polly Bullone sat on the divan. Her mouth was pulled into a straightline. Her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that the knucklesshowed white. Diana stood beside her mother. Her fists were clenched ather sides. She shivered with fury. Her gaze remained fixed, glaring atOrne. 

"O. K. , so my stupidity set up this little meeting, " snarled Orne. Hestood about five paces in front of Polly, hands on hips. The admiral, pacing away at his right, was beginning to wear on his nerves. "Butyou'd better listen to what I have to say. " He glanced at the ComGO. "_All_ of you. "

Admiral Spencer stopped pacing, glowered at Orne. "I have yet to hear agood reason for not tearing this place apart . . . Getting to the bottomof this situation. "

"You . . . Traitor, Lewis!" husked Polly. 

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Madame, " said Spencer. "Only from adifferent point of view. " He glanced at Stetson. "Any word yet onScottie Bullone?"

"They were going to call me the minute they found him, " said Stetson. His voice sounded cautious, brooding. 

"You were coming to the party here tonight, weren't you, admiral?" askedOrne. 

"What's that have to do with anything?" demanded Spencer. 

"Are you prepared to jail your wife and daughters for conspiracy?" askedOrne. 

A tight smile played around Polly's lips. 

Spencer opened his mouth, closed it soundlessly. 

"The Nathians are mostly women, " said Orne. "There's evidence that yourwomenfolk are among them. "

The admiral looked like a man who had been kicked in the stomach. "What. . . Evidence?" he whispered. 

"I'll come to that in a moment, " said Orne. "Now, note this: theNathians are mostly women. There were only a few _accidents_ and a fewplanned males, like me. That's why there were no family names totrace--just a tight little female society, all working to positions ofpower through their men. "

Spencer cleared his throat, swallowed. He seemed powerless to take hisattention from Orne's mouth. 

"My guess, " said Orne, "is that about thirty or forty years ago, theconspirators first began breeding a few males, grooming them for reallychoice top positions. Other Nathian males--the accidents wheresex-control failed--they never learned about the conspiracy. These newones were full-fledged members. That's what I'd have been if I'd pannedout as expected. "

Polly glared at him, looked back at her hands. 

"That part of the plan was scheduled to come to a head with thiselection, " said Orne. "If they pulled this one off, they could move inmore boldly. "

"You're in way over your head, boy, " growled Polly. "You're too late todo anything about us!"

"We'll see about that!" barked Spencer. He seemed to have regained hisself-control. "A little publicity in the right places . . . Some keyarrests and--"

"No, " said Orne. "She's right. It's too late for that. It was probablytoo late a hundred years ago. These dames were too firmly entrenchedeven then. "

 * * * * *

Stetson straightened away from the wall, smiled grimly at Orne. Heseemed to be understanding a point that the others were missing. Dianastill glared at Orne. Polly kept her attention on her hands, the tightsmile playing about her lips. 

"These women probably control one out of three of the top positions inthe League, " said Orne. "Maybe more. Think, admiral . . . Think what wouldhappen if you exposed this thing. There'd be secessions, riots, sub-governments would topple, the central government would be torn bysuspicions and battles. What breeds in that atmosphere?" He shook hishead. "The Rim War would seem like a picnic!"

"We can't just ignore this!" barked Spencer. He stiffened, glared atOrne. 

"We can and we will, " said Orne. "No choice. "

Polly looked up, studied Orne's face. Diana looked confused. 

"Once a Nathian, always a Nathian, eh?" snarled Spencer. 

"There's no such thing, " said Orne. "Five hundred years' cross-breedingwith other races saw to that. There's merely a secret society of astutepolitical scientists. " He smiled wryly at Polly, glanced back atSpencer. "Think of your own wife, sir. In all honesty, would you beComGO today if she hadn't guided your career?"

Spencer's face darkened. He drew in his chin, tried to stare Orne down, failed. Presently, he chuckled wryly. 

"Sobie is beginning to come to his senses, " said Polly. "You're aboutthrough, son. "

"Don't underestimate your future son-in-law, " said Orne. 

"Hah!" barked Diana. "I _hate_ you, Lewis Orne!"

"You'll get over that, " said Orne mildly. 

"Ohhhhhh!" Diana quivered with fury. 

"My major point is this, " said Orne. "Government is a dubious glory. Youpay for your power and wealth by balancing on the sharp edge of theblade. That great amorphous thing out there--the people--has turned andswallowed many governments. The only way you can stay in power is bygiving _good_ government. Otherwise--sooner on later--your turn comes. Ican remember my mother making that point. It's one of the things thatstuck with me. " He frowned. "My objection to politics is the compromisesyou have to make to get elected!"

Stetson moved out from the wall. "It's pretty clear, " he said. Headsturned toward him. "To stay in power, the Nathians had to give us afairly good government. On the other hand, if we expose them, we give abunch of political amateurs--every fanatic and power-hungry demagogue inthe galaxy--just the weapon they need to sweep them into office. "

"After that: chaos, " said Orne. "So we let the Nathians continue . . . With two minor alterations. "

"We alter nothing, " said Polly. "It occurs to me, Lewis, that you don'thave a leg to stand on. You have me, but you'll get nothing out of me. The rest of the organization can go on without me. You don't dare exposeus. We hold the whip hand!"

 * * * * *

"The I-A could have ninety per cent of your organization in custodyinside of ten days, " said Orne. 

"You couldn't find them!" snapped Polly. 

"How?" asked Stetson. 

"Nomads, " said Orne. "This house is a glorified tent. Men on theoutside, women on the inside. Look for inner courtyard construction. It's instinctive with Nathian blood. Add to that, an inclination for oddmusical instruments--the kaithra, the tambour, the oboe--all nomadinstruments. Add to that, female dominance of the family--an odd twiston the nomad heritage, but not completely unique. Check for predominanceof female offspring. Dig into political background. We'll miss damnfew!"

Polly just stared at him, mouth open. 

Spencer said: "Things are moving too fast for me. I know just one thing:I'm dedicated to preventing another Rim War. If I have to jail everylast one of--"

"An hour after this conspiracy became known, you wouldn't be in aposition to jail anyone, " said Orne. "The husband of a Nathian! You'd bein jail yourself or more likely dead at the hands of a mob!"

Spencer paled. 

"What's your suggestion for compromise?" asked Polly. 

"Number one: the I-A gets veto power on any candidate you put up, " saidOrne. "Number two: you can never hold more than two thirds of the topoffices. "

"Who in the I-A vetoes our candidates?" asked Polly. 

"Admiral Spencer, Stet, myself . . . Anyone else we deem trustworthy, "said Orne. 

"You think you're a god or something?" demanded Polly. 

"No more than you do, " said Orne. "This is what's known as a check andbalance system. You cut the pie. We get first choice on which pieces totake. "

There was a protracted silence; then Spencer said: "It doesn't seemright just to--"

"No political compromise is ever totally right, " said Polly. "You keeppatching up things that always have flaws in them. That's how governmentis. " She chuckled, looked up at Orne. "All right, Lewis. We accept. " Sheglanced at Spencer, who shrugged, nodded glumly. Polly looked back atOrne. "Just answer me one question: How'd you know I was boss lady?"

"Easy, " said Orne. "The records we found said the . . . Nathian (he'dalmost said 'traitor') family on Marak was coded as _'The Head. '_ Yourname, Polly, contains the ancient word _'Poll'_ which means _head_. "

Polly looked at Stetson. "Is he always that sharp?"

"Every time, " said Stetson. 

"If you want to go into politics, Lewis, " said Polly, "I'd be delightedto--"

"I'm already in politics as far as I want to be, " growled Orne. "What Ireally want is to settle down with Di, catch up on some of the livingI've missed. "

Diana stiffened. "I never want to see, hear _from_ or hear _of_ Mr. Lewis Orne ever again!" she said. "That is final, emphatically final!"

Orne's shoulders drooped. He turned away, stumbled, and abruptlycollapsed full length on the thick carpets. There was a collective gaspbehind him. 

Stetson barked: "Call a doctor! They warned me at the hospital he wasstill hanging on a thin thread!"

There was the sound of Polly's heavy footsteps running toward the hall. 

"Lew!" It was Diana's voice. She dropped to her knees beside him, softhands fumbling at his neck, his head. 

"Turn him over and loosen his collar!" snapped Spencer. "Give him air!"

Gently, they turned Orne onto his back. He looked pale, Diana loosed hiscollar, buried her face against his neck. "Oh, Lew, I'm sorry, " shesobbed. "I didn't mean it! Please, Lew . . . Please don't die! Please!"

Orne opened his eyes, looked up at Spencer and Stetson. There was thesound of Polly's voice talking rapidly on the phone in the hall. Hecould feel Diana's cheek warm against his neck, the dampness of hertears. Slowly, deliberately, Orne winked at the two men. 

THE END