[Transcriber's note: This etext was produced from the 1962 bookpublication of the story, which was originally published in AnalogScience Fact-Science Fiction, Sept. -Nov. 1961. Extensive research didnot uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication wasrenewed. ]

 EVIL

 * * * * *

Brion entered the temple and stood as if rooted to theground. There was a horror in this place--it clung toeverything. Muffled and hooded men stood silent andunmoving about the room, their attention rigidly focusedon a figure in the center. Brion wondered how he knew theywere men--only their eyes showed, eyes completely emptyof expression yet somehow reminding him of a bird of prey. 

 * * * * *

Then suddenly the figure in the center moved. It was aweird, crazily menacing action--and in an instant Brionknew he had found the enemy, the source of the evil thatinfected the PLANET OF THE DAMNED. 

Bantam Books by Harry Harrison

Ask your bookseller for the books you have missed. 

 DEATHWORLD DEATHWORLD II PLANET OF THE DAMNED TWO TALES AND EIGHT TOMORROWS THE JUPITER LEGACY (PLAGUE FROM SPACE)

 PLANET OF THE DAMNED

 BY HARRY HARRISON

[Illustration: BANTAM BOOKSTORONTO NEW YORK LONDON]

A NATIONAL GENERAL COMPANY

PLANET OF THE DAMNED

_A Bantam Book / published January 1962__New Bantam edition published February 1971_

_All rights reserved. __Copyright © 1962, by Harry Harrison. _

_This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, bymimeograph or any other means, without permission. _

_For information address: Bantam Books, Inc. _

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_Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada_

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_Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc. , a NationalGeneral company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words "BantamBooks" and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered in the UnitedStates Patent Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, Inc. , 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10019. _

 * * * * *

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 For my Mother and Father--

 RIA AND LEO HARRISON

I

 _A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!" "However" replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation. "_

 STEPHEN CRANE

Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight loincloth thatwas the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his handfelt as heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out bya month of continual exercise. These things were of no importance. The cut on his chest, still dripping blood, the ache of hisoverstrained eyes--even the soaring arena around him with thethousands of spectators--were trivialities not worth thinking about. There was only one thing in his universe: the button-tipped lengthof shining steel that hovered before him, engaging his own weapon. He felt the quiver and scrape of its life, knew when it moved andmoved himself to counteract it. And when he attacked, it was alwaysthere to beat him aside. 

A sudden motion. He reacted--but his blade just met air. His instantof panic was followed by a small sharp blow high on his chest. 

"_Touch!_" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word to a millionwaiting loudspeakers, and the applause of the audience echoed backin a wave of sound. 

"One minute, " a voice said, and the time buzzer sounded. 

Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself. A minute isnot a very large measure of time and his body needed every fractionof it. The buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into completerelaxation. Only his heart and lungs worked on at a strong, measured rate. His eyes closed and he was only distantly aware ofhis handlers catching him as he fell, carrying him to his bench. While they massaged his limp body and cleansed the wound, all of hisattention was turned inward. He was in reverie, sliding along theborders of consciousness. The nagging memory of the previous nightloomed up then, and he turned it over and over in his mind, examining it from all sides. 

It was the very unexpectedness of the event that had been sounusual. The contestants in the Twenties needed undisturbed rest, therefore nights in the dormitories were as quiet as death. Duringthe first few days, of course, the rule wasn't observed too closely. The men themselves were too keyed up and excited to rest easily. Butas soon as the scores began to mount and eliminations cut into theirranks, there was complete silence after dark. Particularly so onthis last night, when only two of the little cubicles were occupied, the thousands of others standing with dark, empty doors. 

Angry words had dragged Brion from a deep and exhausted sleep. Thewords were whispered but clear--two voices, just outside the thinmetal of his door. Someone spoke his name. 

". .. Brion Brandd. Of course not. Whoever said you could was makinga big mistake and there is going to be trouble--"

"Don't talk like an idiot!" The other voice snapped with a harshurgency, clearly used to command. "I'm here because the matter is ofutmost importance, and Brandd is the one I must see. Now stand aside!"

"The Twenties--"

"I don't give a damn about your games, hearty cheers and physicalexercises. This is _important_, or I wouldn't be here!"

The other didn't speak--he was surely one of the officials--andBrion could sense his outraged anger. He must have drawn his gun, because the intruder said quickly, "Put that away. You're being afool!"

"Out!" was the single snarled word of the response. There wassilence then and, still wondering, Brion was once more asleep. 

"Ten seconds. "

The voice chopped away Brion's memories and he let awareness seepback into his body. He was unhappily conscious of his totalexhaustion. The month of continuous mental and physical combat hadtaken its toll. It would be hard to stay on his feet, much lesssummon the strength and skill to fight and win a touch. 

"How do we stand?" he asked the handler who was kneading his achingmuscles. 

"Four-four. All you need is a touch to win!"

"That's all he needs too, " Brion grunted, opening his eyes to lookat the wiry length of the man at the other end of the long mat. Noone who had reached the finals in the Twenties could possibly bea weak opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the pick of the lot. Ared-haired mountain of a man, with an apparently inexhaustible storeof energy. That was really all that counted now. There could belittle art in this last and final round of fencing. Just thrust andparry, and victory to the stronger. 

Brion closed his eyes again and knew the moment he had been hopingto avoid had arrived. 

Every man who entered the Twenties had his own training tricks. Brion had a few individual ones that had helped him so far. He wasa moderately strong chess player, but he had moved to quick victoryin the chess rounds by playing incredibly unorthodox games. This wasno accident, but the result of years of work. He had a standing orderwith off-planet agents for archaic chess books, the older thebetter. He had memorized thousands of these ancient games andopenings. This was allowed. Anything was allowed that didn't involvedrugs or machines. Self-hypnosis was an accepted tool. 

It had taken Brion over two years to find a way to tap the sourcesof hysterical strength. Common as the phenomenon seemed to be in thetextbooks, it proved impossible to duplicate. There appeared to bean immediate association with the death-trauma, as if the two wereinextricably linked into one. Berserkers and juramentados continueto fight and kill though carved by scores of mortal wounds. Men withbullets in the heart or brain fight on, though already clinicallydead. Death seemed an inescapable part of this kind of strength. But there was another type that could easily be brought about in anydeep trance--hypnotic rigidity. The strength that enables someonein a trance to hold his body stiff and unsupported except at twopoints, the head and heels. This is physically impossible whenconscious. Working with this as a clue, Brion had developed aself-hypnotic technique that allowed him to tap this reservoir ofunknown strength--the source of "second wind, " the survival strengththat made the difference between life and death. 

It could also kill--exhaust the body beyond hope of recovery, particularly when in a weakened condition as his was now. But thatwasn't important. Others had died before during the Twenties, anddeath during the last round was in some ways easier than defeat. 

Breathing deeply, Brion softly spoke the auto-hypnotic phrases thattriggered the process. Fatigue fell softly from him, as did allsensations of heat, cold and pain. He could feel with acutesensitivity, hear, and see clearly when he opened his eyes. 

With each passing second the power drew at the basic reserves oflife, draining it from his body. 

When the buzzer sounded he pulled his foil from his second'sstartled grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had barely time to grab uphis own weapon and parry Brion's first thrust. The force of his rushwas so great that the guards on their weapons locked, and theirbodies crashed together. Irolg looked amazed at the sudden fury ofthe attack--then smiled. He thought it was a last burst of energy, he knew how close they both were to exhaustion. This must be the endfor Brion. 

They disengaged and Irolg put up a solid defense. He didn't attemptto attack, just let Brion wear himself out against the firm shieldof his defense. 

Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's face when theman finally recognized his error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything, he was pressing the attack. A wave of despair rolled out fromIrolg--Brion sensed it and knew the fifth point was his. 

Thrust--thrust--and each time the parrying sword a little slower toreturn. Then the powerful twist that thrust it aside. In and underthe guard. The slap of the button on flesh and the arc of steel thatreached out and ended on Irolg's chest over his heart. 

Waves of sound--cheering and screaming--lapped against Brion'sprivate world, but he was only remotely aware of their existence. Irolg dropped his foil, and tried to shake Brion's hand, but hislegs suddenly gave way. Brion had an arm around him, holding him up, walking towards the rushing handlers. Then Irolg was gone and hewaved off his own men, walking slowly by himself. 

Except that something was wrong and it was like walking through warmglue. Walking on his knees. No, not walking, falling. At last. Hewas able to let go and fall. 

II

Ihjel gave the doctors exactly one day before he went to thehospital. Brion wasn't dead, though there had been some doubt aboutthat the night before. Now, a full day later, he was on the mend andthat was all Ihjel wanted to know. He bullied and strong-armed hisway to the new Winner's room, meeting his first stiff resistance atthe door. 

"You're out of order, Winner Ihjel, " the doctor said. "And if youkeep on forcing yourself in here, where you are not wanted, rank orno rank, I shall be obliged to break your head. "

Ihjel had just begun to tell him, in some detail, just how slim hischances were of accomplishing that, when Brion interrupted themboth. He recognized the newcomer's voice from the final night inthe barracks. 

"Let him in, Dr. Caulry, " he said. "I want to meet a man who thinksthere is something more important than the Twenties. "

While the doctor stood undecided, Ihjel moved quickly around him andclosed the door in his flushed face. He looked down at the Winner inthe bed. There was a drip plugged into each one of Brion's arms. Hiseyes peered from sooty hollows; the eyeballs were a network of redveins. The silent battle he fought against death had left its mark. His square, jutting jaw now seemed all bone, as did his long noseand high cheekbones. They were prominent landmarks rising from thelimp greyness of his skin. Only the erect bristle of hisclose-cropped hair was unchanged. He had the appearance of havingsuffered a long and wasting illness. 

"You look like sin, " Ihjel said. "But congratulations on yourvictory. "

"You don't look so very good yourself--for a Winner, " Brion snappedback. His exhaustion and sudden peevish anger at this man let theinsulting words slip out. Ihjel ignored them. 

But it was true; Winner Ihjel looked very little like a Winner, oreven an Anvharian. He had the height and the frame all right, but itwas draped in billows of fat--rounded, soft tissue that hung looselyfrom his limbs and made little limp rolls on his neck and under hiseyes. There were no fat men on Anvhar, and it was incredible thata man so gross could ever have been a Winner. If there was muscleunder the fat it couldn't be seen. Only his eyes appeared to stillhold the strength that had once bested every man on the planet towin the annual games. Brion turned away from their burning stare, sorry now he had insulted the man without good reason. He was toosick, though, to bother about apologizing. 

Ihjel didn't care either. Brion looked at him again and felt theimpression of things so important that he himself, his insults, eventhe Twenties were of no more interest than dust motes in the air. Itwas only a fantasy of a sick mind, Brion knew, and he tried to shakethe feeling off. The two men stared at each other, sharing a commonemotion. 

The door opened soundlessly behind Ihjel and he wheeled about, moving as only an athlete of Anvhar can move. Dr. Caulry was halfwaythrough the door, off balance. Two men in uniform came close behindhim. Ihjel's body pushed against them, his speed and the mountainousmass of his flesh sending them back in a tangle of arms and legs. Heslammed the door and locked it in their faces. 

"I have to talk to you, " he said, turning back to Brion. "Privately, " he added, bending over and ripping out the communicatorwith a sweep of one hand. 

"Get out, " Brion told him. "If I were able--"

"Well, you're not, so you're just going to have to lie there andlisten. I imagine we have about five minutes before they decide tobreak the door down, and I don't want to waste any more of that. Will you come with me offworld? There's a job that must be done;it's my job, but I'm going to need help. You're the only one who cangive me that help. 

"Now refuse, " he added as Brion started to answer. 

"Of course I refuse, " Brion said, feeling a little foolish andslightly angry, as if the other man had put the words into hismouth. "Anvhar is my planet--why should I leave? My life is here andso is my work. I also might add that I have just won the Twenties. I have a responsibility to remain. "

"Nonsense. I'm a Winner, and I left. What you really mean is youwould like to enjoy a little of the ego-inflation you have worked sohard to get. Off Anvhar no one even knows what a Winner is--muchless respects one. You will have to face a big universe out there, and I don't blame you for being a little frightened. "

Someone was hammering loudly on the door. 

"I haven't the strength to get angry, " Brion said hoarsely. "AndI can't bring myself to admire your ideas when they permit you toinsult a man too ill to defend himself. "

"I apologize, " Ihjel said, with no hint of apology or sympathy inhis voice. "But there are more desperate issues involved than yourhurt feelings. We don't have much time now, so I want to impress youwith an idea. "

"An idea that will convince me to go offplanet with you? That'sexpecting a lot. "

"No, this idea won't convince you--but thinking about it will. If you really _consider_ it you will find a lot of your illusionsshattered. Like everyone else on Anvhar, you're a scientifichumanist, with your faith firmly planted in the Twenties. You acceptboth of these noble institutions without an instant's thought. Allof you haven't a single thought for the past, for the untoldbillions who led the bad life as mankind slowly built up the goodlife for you to lead. Do you ever think of all the people whosuffered and died in misery and superstition while civilizationwas clicking forward one more slow notch?"

"Of course I don't think about them, " Brion retorted. "Why should I?I can't change the past. "

"But you can change the future!" Ihjel said. "You owe somethingto the suffering ancestors who got you where you are today. IfScientific Humanism means anything more than just words to you, you must possess a sense of responsibility. Don't you want to tryand pay off a bit of this debt by helping others who are just asbackward and disease-ridden today as great-grandfather Troglodyteever was?"

The hammering on the door was louder. This and the drug-inducedbuzzing in Brion's ear made thinking difficult. "Abstractly, I ofcourse agree with you, " he said haltingly. "But you know there isnothing I can do personally without being emotionally involved. Alogical decision is valueless for action without personal meaning. "

"Then we have reached the crux of the matter, " Ihjel said gently. His back was braced against the door, absorbing the thudding blowsof some heavy object on the outside. "They're knocking, so I must begoing soon. I have no time for details, but I can assure you upon myword of honor as a Winner that there is something you can do. Onlyyou. If you help me we might save seven million human lives. Thatis a fact. "

The lock burst and the door started to open. Ihjel shouldered itback into the frame for a final instant. 

"Here is the idea I want you to consider. Why is it that the peopleof Anvhar, in a galaxy filled with warring, hate-filled, backwardplanets, should be the only ones who base their entire existenceon a complicated series of games?"

III

This time there was no way to hold the door. Ihjel didn't try. Hestepped aside and two men stumbled into the room. He walked outbehind their backs without saying a word. 

"What happened? What did he do?" the doctor asked, rushing inthrough the ruined door. He swept a glance over the continuousrecording dials at the foot of Brion's bed. Respiration, temperature, heart, blood pressure--all were normal. The patient layquietly and didn't answer him. 

For the rest of that day, Brion had much to think about. It wasdifficult. The fatigue, mixed with the tranquilizers and otherdrugs, had softened his contact with reality. His thoughts keptechoing back and forth in his mind, unable to escape. What had Ihjelmeant? What was that nonsense about Anvhar? Anvhar was that waybecause--well, it just was. It had come about naturally. Or had it?

The planet had a very simple history. From the very beginning therehad never been anything of real commercial interest on Anvhar. Welloff the interstellar trade routes, there were no minerals worthdigging and transporting the immense distances to the nearestinhabited worlds. Hunting the winter beasts for their pelts was aprofitable but very minor enterprise, never sufficient for massmarkets. Therefore no organized attempt had ever been made tocolonize the planet. In the end it had been settled completely bychance. A number of offplanet scientific groups had establishedobservation and research stations, finding unlimited data to observeand record during Anvhar's unusual yearly cycle. The long-durationobservations encouraged the scientific workers to bring theirfamilies and, slowly but steadily, small settlements grew up. Manyof the fur hunters settled there as well, adding to the smallpopulation. This had been the beginning. 

Few records existed of those early days, and the first six centuriesof Anvharian history were more speculation than fact. The Breakdownoccurred about that time, and in the galaxy-wide disruption Anvharhad to fight its own internal battle. When the Earth Empirecollapsed it was the end of more than an era. Many of theobservation stations found themselves representing institutions thatno longer existed. The professional hunters no longer had marketsfor their furs, since Anvhar possessed no interstellar ships of itsown. There had been no real physical hardship involved in theBreakdown as it affected Anvhar, since the planet was completelyself-sufficient. Once they had made the mental adjustment to thefact that they were now a sovereign world, not a collection ofcasual visitors with various loyalties, life continued unchanged. Not easy--living on Anvhar is never easy--but at least withoutdifference on the surface. 

The thoughts and attitudes of the people were, however, goingthrough a great transformation. Many attempts were made to developsome form of stable society and social relationship. Again, littlerecord exists of these early trials, other than the fact of theirculmination in the Twenties. 

To understand the Twenties, you have to understand the unusual orbitthat Anvhar tracks around its sun, 70 Ophiuchi. There are otherplanets in this system, all of them more or less conforming to theplane of the ecliptic. Anvhar is obviously a rogue, perhaps acaptured planet of another sun. For the greatest part of its 780-dayyear it arcs far out from its primary, in a high-angled sweepingcometary orbit. When it returns there is a brief, hot summer ofapproximately eighty days before the long winter sets in once more. This severe difference in seasonal change has caused profoundadaptations in the native life forms. During the winter most of theanimals hibernate, the vegetable life lying dormant as spores orseeds. Some of the warm-blooded herbivores stay active in thesnow-covered tropics, preyed upon by fur-insulated carnivores. Though unbelievably cold, the winter is a season of peace incomparison to the summer. 

For summer is a time of mad growth. Plants burst into life witha strength that cracks rocks, growing fast enough for the motionto be seen. The snowfields melt into mud and within days a junglestretches high into the air. Everything grows, swells, proliferates. Plants climb on top of plants, fighting for the life-energy of thesun. Everything is eat and be eaten, grow and thrive in that shortseason. Because when the first snow of winter falls again, ninetyper cent of the year must pass until the next coming of warmth. 

Mankind has had to adapt to the Anvharian cycle in order to stayalive. Food must be gathered and stored, enough to last out the longwinter. Generation after generation had adapted until they look onthe mad seasonal imbalance as something quite ordinary. The firstthaw of the almost nonexistent spring triggers a wide-reachingmetabolic change in the humans. Layers of subcutaneous fat vanishand half-dormant sweat glands come to life. Other changes are moresubtle than the temperature adjustment, but equally important. Thesleep center of the brain is depressed. Short naps or a night's restevery third or fourth day becomes enough. Life takes on a hectic andhysterical quality that is perfectly suited to the environment. Bythe time of the first frost, rapid-growing crops have been raisedand harvested, sides of meat either preserved or frozen in mammothlockers. With this supreme talent of adaptability mankind has becomepart of the ecology and guaranteed his own survival during the longwinter. 

Physical survival has been guaranteed. But what about mentalsurvival? Primitive Earth Eskimos can fall into a long doze ofhalf-conscious hibernation. Civilized men might be able to do this, but only for the few cold months of terrestrial midwinter. It wouldbe impossible to do during a winter that is longer than an Earthyear. With all the physical needs taken care of, boredom became theenemy of any Anvharian who was not a hunter. And even the hunterscould not stay out on solitary trek all winter. Drink was oneanswer, and violence another. Alcoholism and murder were the twinterrors of the cold season, after the Breakdown. 

It was the Twenties that ended all that. When they became apart of normal life the summer was considered just an interludebetween games. The Twenties were more than just a contest--theybecame a way of life that satisfied all the physical, competitiveand intellectual needs of this unusual planet. They were adecathlon--rather a double decathlon--raised to its highest power, where contests in chess and poetry composition held equal placewith those in ski-jumping and archery. Each year there were twoplanet-wide contests held, one for men and one for women. This wasnot an attempt at sexual discrimination, but a logical facing offacts. Inherent differences prevented fair contests--for example, itis impossible for a woman to win a large chess tournament--and thisfact was recognized. Anyone could enter for any number of years. There were no scoring handicaps. 

When the best man won he was really the best man. A complicatedseries of playoffs and eliminations kept contestants and observersbusy for half the winter. They were only preliminary to the finalencounter that lasted a month, and picked a single winner. That wasthe title he was awarded. Winner. The man--and woman--who had bestedevery other contestant on the entire planet and who would remainunchallenged until the following year. 

Winner. It was a title to take pride in. Brion stirred weakly on hisbed and managed to turn so he could look out of the window. Winnerof Anvhar. His name was already slated for the history books, one ofthe handful of planetary heroes. School children would be studying_him_ now, just as he had read of the Winners of the past. Weavingdaydreams and imaginary adventures around Brion's victories, hopingand fighting to equal them someday. To be a Winner was the greatesthonor in the universe. 

Outside, the afternoon sun shimmered weakly in a dark sky. Theendless icefields soaked up the dim light, reflecting it back as acolder and harsher illumination. A single figure on skis cut a lineacross the empty plain; nothing else moved. The depression of theultimate fatigue fell on Brion and everything changed, as if helooked in a mirror at a previously hidden side. 

He saw suddenly--with terrible clarity--that to be a Winner was tobe absolutely nothing. Like being the best flea, among all the fleason a single dog. 

What was Anvhar after all? An ice-locked planet, inhabited by a fewmillion human fleas, unknown and unconsidered by the rest of thegalaxy. There was nothing here worth fighting for; the wars afterthe Breakdown had left them untouched. The Anvharians had alwaystaken pride in this--as if being so unimportant that no one elseeven wanted to come near you could possibly be a source of pride. All the other worlds of man grew, fought, won, lost, changed. Onlyon Anvhar did life repeat its sameness endlessly, like a loop oftape in a player. .. . 

Brion's eyes were moist; he blinked. _Tears!_ Realization of thisincredible fact wiped the maudlin pity from his mind and replaced itwith fear. Had his mind snapped in the strain of the last match?These thoughts weren't his. Self-pity hadn't made him a Winner--whywas he feeling it now? Anvhar was his universe--how could he evenimagine it as a tag-end planet at the outer limb of creation? Whathad come over him and induced this inverse thinking?

As he thought the question, the answer appeared at the same instant. Winner Ihjel. The fat man with the strange pronouncements andprobing questions. Had he cast a spell like some sorcerer--or thedevil in _Faust_? No, that was pure nonsense. But he had donesomething. Perhaps planted a suggestion when Brion's resistance waslow. Or used subliminal vocalization like the villain in _CerebrusChained_. Brion could find no adequate reason on which to base hissuspicions. But he knew, with sure positiveness, that Ihjel wasresponsible. 

He whistled at the sound-switch next to his pillow and the repairedcommunicator came to life. The duty nurse appeared in the small screen. 

"The man who was here today, " Brion said, "Winner Ihjel. Do you knowwhere he is? I must contact him. "

For some reason this flustered her professional calm. The nursestarted to answer, excused herself, and blanked the screen. Whenit lit again a man in guard's uniform had taken her place. 

"You made an inquiry, " the guard said, "about Winner Ihjel. We areholding him here in the hospital, following the disgraceful way inwhich he broke into your room. "

"I have no charges to make. Will you ask him to come and see me atonce?"

The guard controlled his shock. "I'm sorry, Winner--I don't see howwe can. Dr. Caulry left specific orders that you were not to be--"

"The doctor has no control over my personal life. " Brioninterrupted. "I'm not infectious, nor ill with anything more thanextreme fatigue. I want to see that man. At once. "

The guard took a deep breath, and made a quick decision. "He is onthe way up now, " he said, and rung off. 

"What did you do to me?" Brion asked as soon as Ihjel had enteredand they were alone. "You won't deny that you have put alienthoughts in my head?"

"No, I won't deny it. Because the whole point of my being here isto get those 'alien' thoughts across to you. "

"Tell me how you did it, " Brion insisted. "I must know. "

"I'll tell you--but there are many things you should understandfirst, before you decide to leave Anvhar. You must not only hearthem, you will have to believe them. The primary thing, the clueto the rest, is the true nature of your life here. How do you thinkthe Twenties originated?"

Before he answered, Brion carefully took a double dose of the mildstimulant he was allowed. "I don't think, " he said; "I know. It'sa matter of historical record. The founder of the games was Giroldi, the first contest was held in 378 A. B. The Twenties have been heldevery year since then. They were strictly local affairs in thebeginning, but were soon well established on a planet-wide scale. "

"True enough, " Ihjel said. "But you're describing _what_ happened. I asked you _how_ the Twenties originated. How could any single mantake a barbarian planet, lightly inhabited by half-mad hunters andalcoholic farmers, and turn it into a smooth-running social machinebuilt around the artificial structure of the Twenties? It justcouldn't be done. "

"But it _was_ done!" Brion insisted. "You can't deny that. And thereis nothing artificial about the Twenties. They are a logical way tolive a life on a planet like this. "

Ihjel laughed, a short ironic bark. "Very logical, " he said; "buthow often does logic have anything to do with the organization ofsocial groups and governments? You're not thinking. Put yourself infounder Giroldi's place. Imagine that you have glimpsed the greatidea of the Twenties and you want to convince others. So you walk upto the nearest louse-ridden, brawling, superstitious, booze-embalmedhunter and explain clearly. How a program of his favoritesports--things like poetry, archery and chess--can make his lifethat much more interesting and virtuous. You do that. But keep youreyes open at the same time, and be ready for a fast draw. "

Even Brion had to smile at the absurdity of the suggestion. Ofcourse it couldn't happen that way. Yet, since it had happened, there must be a simple explanation. 

"We can beat this back and forth all day, " Ihjel told him, "and youwon't get the right idea unless--" He broke off suddenly, staring atthe communicator. The operation light had come on, though the screenstayed dark. Ihjel reached down a meaty hand and pulled loosethe recently connected wires. "That doctor of yours is verycurious--and he's going to stay that way. The truth behind theTwenties is none of his business. But it's going to be yours. Youmust come to realize that the life you lead here is a complete andartificial construction, developed by Societics experts and put intoapplication by skilled field workers. "

"Nonsense!" Brion broke in. "Systems of society can't be dreamed upand forced on people like that. Not without bloodshed and violence. "

"Nonsense, yourself, " Ihjel told him. "That may have been true inthe dawn of history, but not any more. You have been reading toomany of the old Earth classics; you imagine that we still live inthe Ages of Superstition. Just because fascism and communism wereonce forced on reluctant populations, you think this holds true forall time. Go back to your books. In exactly the same era democracyand self-government were adapted by former colonial states, likeIndia and the Union of North Africa, and the only violence wasbetween local religious groups. Change is the lifeblood of mankind. Everything we today accept as normal was at one time an innovation. And one of the most recent innovations is the attempt to guide thesocieties of mankind into something more consistent with thepersonal happiness of individuals. "

"The God complex, " Brion said; "forcing human lives into a moldwhether they want to be fitted into it or not. "

"Societies can be that, " Ihjel agreed. "It was in the beginning, andthere were some disastrous results of attempts to force populationsinto a political climate where they didn't belong. They weren't allfailures--Anvhar here is a striking example of how good thetechnique can be when correctly applied. It's not done this way anymore, though. As with all of the other sciences, we have found outthat the more we know, the more there is to know. We no longerattempt to guide cultures towards what we consider a beneficialgoal. There are too many goals, and from our limited vantage pointit is hard to tell the good ones from the bad ones. All we do nowis try to protect the growing cultures, give a little jolt to thestagnating ones--and bury the dead ones. When the work was firstdone here on Anvhar the theory hadn't progressed that far. Theunderstandably complex equations that determine just where in thescale from a Type I to a Type V a culture is, had not yet beencompleted. The technique then was to work out an artificial culturethat would be most beneficial for a planet, then bend it into themold. "

"How can that be done?" Brion asked. "How was it done here?"

"We've made some progress--you're finally asking 'how. ' Thetechnique here took a good number of agents, and a great deal ofmoney. Personal honor was emphasized in order to encourage dueling, and this led to a heightened interest in the technique of personalcombat. When this was well intrenched Giroldi was brought in, andhe showed how organized competitions could be more interesting thanhaphazard encounters. Tying the intellectual aspects onto theframework of competitive sports was a little more difficult, butnot overwhelmingly so. The details aren't important; all we areconsidering now is the end product. Which is you. You're neededvery much. "

"Why me?" Brion asked. "Why am I special? Because I won theTwenties? I can't believe that. Taken objectively, there isn't thatmuch difference between myself and the ten runner-ups. Why don't youask one of them? They could do your job as well as I. "

"No, they couldn't. I'll tell you later why you are the only manI can use. Our time is running out and I must convince you of someother things first. " Ihjel glanced at his watch. "We have less thanthree hours to dead-deadline. Before that time I must explain enoughof our work to you to enable you to decide voluntarily to join us. "

"A very tall order, " Brion said. "You might begin by telling me justwho this mysterious 'we' is that you keep referring to. "

"The Cultural Relationships Foundation. A non-governmental body, privately endowed, existing to promote peace and ensure thesovereign welfare of independent planets, so that all will prosperfrom the good will and commerce thereby engendered. "

"Sounds as if you're quoting, " Brion told him. "No one couldpossibly make up something that sounds like that on the spur ofthe moment. "

"I _was_ quoting, from our charter of organization. Which is allvery fine in a general sense, but I'm talking specifically now. About you. You are the product of a tightly knit and very advancedsociety. Your individuality has been encouraged by your growing upin a society so small in population that a mild form of governmentcontrol is necessary. The normal Anvharian education is an excellentone, and participation in the Twenties has given you a general andadvanced education second to none in the galaxy. It would be acomplete waste of your entire life if you now took all this trainingand wasted it on some rustic farm. "

"You give me very little credit. I plan to teach--"

"Forget Anvhar!" Ihjel cut him off with a chop of his hand. "Thisworld will roll on quite successfully whether you are here or not. You must forget it, think of its relative unimportance on a galacticscale, and consider instead the existing, suffering hordes ofmankind. You must think what you can do to help them. "

"But what can I do--as an individual? The day is long past whena single man, like Caesar or Alexander, could bring aboutworld-shaking changes. "

"True--but not true, " Ihjel said. "There are key men in everyconflict of forces, men who act like catalysts applied at the rightinstant to start a chemical reaction. You might be one of these men, but I must be honest and say that I can't prove it yet. So in orderto save time and endless discussion, I think I will have to sparkyour personal sense of obligation. "

"Obligation to whom?"

"To mankind, of course, to the countless billions of dead who keptthe whole machine rolling along that allows you the full, long andhappy life you enjoy today. What they gave to you, you must pass onto others. This is the keystone of humanistic morals. "

"Agreed. And a very good argument in the long run. But not one thatis going to tempt me out of this bed within the next three hours. "

"A point of success, " Ihjel said. "You agree with the generalargument. Now I apply it specifically to you. Here is the statementI intend to prove. There exists a planet with a population of sevenmillion people. Unless I can prevent it, this planet will becompletely destroyed. It is my job to stop that destruction, so thatis where I am going now. I won't be able to do the job alone. Inaddition to others, I need you. Not anyone like you--but you, andyou alone. "

"You have precious little time left to convince me of all that, "Brion told him, "so let me make the job easier for you. The work youdo, this planet, the imminent danger of the people there--these areall facts that you can undoubtedly supply. I'll take a chance thatthis whole thing is not a colossal bluff, and admit that given time, you could verify them all. This brings the argument back to meagain. How can you possibly prove that I am the only person in thegalaxy who can help you?"

"I can prove it by your singular ability, the thing I came here tofind. "

"Ability? I am different in no way from the other men on my planet. "

"You're wrong, " Ihjel said. "You are the embodied proof ofevolution. Rare individuals with specific talents occur constantlyin any species, man included. It has been two generations since anempathetic was last born on Anvhar, and I have been watchingcarefully most of that time. "

"What in blazes is an empathetic--and how do you recognize it whenyou have found it?" Brion chuckled, this talk was gettingpreposterous. 

"I can recognize one because I'm one myself--there is no other way. As to how projective empathy works, you had a demonstration of thata little earlier, when you felt those strange thoughts about Anvhar. It will be a long time before you can master that, but receptiveempathy is your natural trait. This is mentally entering into thefeeling, or what could be called the spirit of another person. Empathy is not thought perception; it might better be describedas the sensing of someone else's emotional makeup, feelings andattitudes. You can't lie to a trained empathetic, because he cansense the real attitude behind the verbal lies. Even yourundeveloped talent has proved immensely useful in the Twenties. You can outguess your opponent because you know his movementseven as his body tenses to make them. You accept this withoutever questioning it. "

"How do you know?" This was Brion's understood, but never voiced secret. 

Ihjel smiled. "Just guessing. But I won the Twenties too, remember, also without knowing a thing about empathy at the time. On top ofour normal training, it's a wonderful trait to have. Which brings meto the proof we mentioned a minute ago. When you said you would beconvinced if I could prove you were the only person who could helpme. I _believe_ you are--and that is one thing I cannot lie about. It's possible to lie about a belief verbally, to have a falselybased belief, or to change a belief. But you can't lie about it toyourself. 

"Equally important--you can't lie about a belief to an empathetic. Would you like to see how I feel about this? 'See' is a badword--there is no vocabulary yet for this kind of thing. Better, would you join me in my feelings? Sense my attitudes, memories andemotions just as I do?"

Brion tried to protest, but he was too late. The doors of his senseswere pushed wide and he was overwhelmed. 

"Dis . .. " Ihjel said aloud. "Seven million people . .. Hydrogen bombs. .. Brion Brandd. " These were just key words, landmarks ofassociation. With each one Brion felt the rushing wave of the otherman's emotions. 

There could be no lies here--Ihjel was right in that. This was theraw stuff that feelings are made of, the basic reactions to thethings and symbols of memory. 

DIS . .. DIS . .. DIS . .. It was a word it was a planet and the wordthundered like a drum a drum the sound of its thunder surrounded and was a wasteland a planet of death a planet where living was dying and dying was very better than living

 crude barbaric DIS hot burning scorching backward miserable wasteland of sands dirty beneath and sands and sands and consideration sands that burned had planet burned will burn forever the people of this planet so crude dirty miserable barbaric sub-human in-human less-than-human but they were going to be DEAD

 and DEAD they would be seven million blackened corpses that would blacken your dreams all dreams dreams forever because those H Y D R O G E N B O M B S were waiting to kill them unless . . Unless . . Unless . . You Ihjel stopped it you Ihjel (DEATH) you (DEATH) you (DEATH) alone couldn't do it you (DEATH) must have BRION BRANDD wet-behind-the-ears-raw-untrained- Brion-Brandd-to-help-you he was the only one in the galaxy who could finish the job. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 

As the flow of sensation died away, Brion realized he was sprawledback weakly on his pillows, soaked with sweat, washed with thememory of the raw emotion. Across from him Ihjel sat with his facebowed in his hands. When he lifted his head Brion saw within hiseyes a shadow of the blackness he had just experienced. 

"Death, " Brion said. "That terrible feeling of death. It wasn't justthe people of Dis who would die. It was something more personal. "

"Myself, " Ihjel said, and behind this simple word were the repeatedechoes of night that Brion had been made aware of with his newlyrecognized ability. "My own death, not too far away. This is thewonderfully terrible price you must pay for your talent. _Angst_ isan inescapable part of empathy. It is a part of the whole unknownfield of psi phenomena that seems to be independent of time. Deathis so traumatic and final that it reverberates back along the timeline. The closer I get, the more aware of it I am. There is no exactfeeling of date, just a rough location in time. That is the horrorof it. I _know_ I will die soon after I get to Dis--and long beforethe work there is finished. I know the job to be done there, and Iknow the men who have already failed at it. I also know you are theonly person who can possibly complete the work I have started. Doyou agree now? Will you come with me?"

"Yes, of course, " Brion said. "I'll go with you. "

IV

"I've never seen anyone quite as angry as that doctor, " Brion said. 

"Can't blame him. " Ihjel shifted his immense weight and grunted fromthe console, where he was having a coded conversation with theship's brain. He hit the keys quickly, and read the answer from thescreen. "You took away his medical moment of glory. How many timesin his life will he have a chance to nurse back to rugged smilinghealth the triumphantly exhausted Winner of the Twenties?"

"Not many, I imagine. The wonder of it is how you managed toconvince him that you and the ship here could take care of meas well as his hospital could. "

"I could never convince him of that, " Ihjel said. "But I and theCultural Relationships Foundation have some powerful friends onAnvhar. I'm forced to admit I brought a little pressure to bear. "He leaned back and read the course tape as it streamed out of theprinter. "We have a little time to spare, but I would rather spendit waiting at the other end. We'll blast as soon as I have you tieddown in a stasis field. "

The completeness of the stasis field leaves no impressions on thebody or mind. In it there is no weight, no pressure, no pain--nosensation of any kind. Except for a stasis of very long duration, there is no sensation of time. To Brion's consciousness, Ihjelflipped the switch off with a continuation of the same motion thathad turned it on. The ship was unchanged, only outside of the portwas the red-shot blankness of jump-space. 

"How do you feel?" Ihjel asked. 

Apparently the ship was wondering the same thing. Its detector unit, hovering impatiently just outside of Brion's stasis field, darteddown and settled on his bare forearm. The doctor back on Anvhar hadgiven the medical section of the ship's brain a complete briefing. A quick check of a dozen factors of Brion's metabolism was comparedto the expected norm. Apparently everything was going well, becausethe only reaction was the expected injection of vitamins and glucose. 

"I can't say I'm feeling wonderful yet, " Brion answered, leveringhimself higher on the pillows. "But every day it's a bitbetter--steady progress. "

"I hope so, because we have about two weeks before we get to Dis. Do you think you'll be back in shape by that time?"

"No promises, " Brion said, giving a tentative squeeze to one bicep. "It should be enough time, though. Tomorrow I start mild exerciseand that will tighten me up again. Now--tell me more about Dis andwhat you have to do there. "

"I'm not going to do it twice, so just save your curiosity awhile. We're heading for a rendezvous point now to pick up anotheroperator. This is going to be a three-man team, you, me and anexobiologist. As soon as he is aboard I'll do a complete briefingfor you both at the same time. What you can do now is get your headinto the language box and start working on your Disan. You'll wantto speak it perfectly by the time we touchdown. "

With an autohypno for complete recall, Brion had no difficulty inmastering the grammar and vocabulary of Disan. Pronunciation wasa different matter altogether. Almost all the word endings wereswallowed, muffled or gargled. The language was rich in glottalstops, clicks and guttural strangling sounds. Ihjel stayed in adifferent part of the ship when Brion used the voice mirror andanalysis scope, claiming that the awful noises interfered withhis digestion. 

Their ship angled through jump-space along its calculated course. Itkept its fragile human cargo warm, fed them and supplied breathableair. It had orders to worry about Brion's health, so it did, checking constantly against its recorded instructions and notinghis steady progress. Another part of the ship's brain countedmicroseconds with moronic fixation, finally closing a relay whena predetermined number had expired in its heart. A light flashedand a buzzer hummed gently but insistently. 

Ihjel yawned, put away the report he had been reading, and startedfor the control room. He shuddered when he passed the room whereBrion was listening to a playback of his Disan efforts. 

"Turn off that dying brontosaurus and get strapped in, " he calledthrough the thin door. "We're coming to the point of optimumpossibility and we'll be dropping back into normal space soon. "

The human mind can ponder the incredible distances between thestars, but cannot possibly contain within itself a realunderstanding of them. Marked out on a man's hand an inch is a largeunit of measure. In interstellar space a cubical area with sidesa hundred thousand miles long is a microscopically fine division. Light crosses this distance in a fraction of a second. To a shipmoving with a relative speed far greater than that of light, thismeasuring unit is even smaller. Theoretically, it appears impossibleto find a particular area of this size. Technologically, it was arepeatable miracle that occurred too often to even be interesting. 

Brion and Ihjel were strapped in when the jump-drive cut offabruptly, lurching them back into normal space and time. They didn'tunstrap, but just sat and looked at the dimly distant pattern ofstars. A single sun, apparently of fifth magnitude, was their onlyneighbor in this lost corner of the universe. They waited while thecomputer took enough star sights to triangulate a position in threedimensions, muttering to itself electronically while it did thecountless calculations to find their position. A warning bell chimedand the drive cut on and off so quickly that the two acts seemedsimultaneous. This happened again, twice, before the brain wassatisfied it had made as good a fix as possible and flashed aNAVIGATION POWER OFF light. Ihjel unstrapped, stretched, and madethem a meal. 

Ihjel had computed their passage time with precise allowances. Lessthan ten hours after they arrived a powerful signal blasted intotheir waiting receiver. They strapped in again as the NAVIGATIONPOWER ON signal blinked insistently. 

A ship had paused in flight somewhere relatively near in the vastvolume of space. It had entered normal space just long enough toemit a signal of radio query on an assigned wave length. Ihjel'sship had detected this and instantly responded with a verifyingsignal. The passenger spacer had accepted this assurance andgracefully laid a ten-foot metal egg in space. As soon as this hadcleared its jump field the parent ship vanished towards itsdestination, light years away. 

Ihjel's ship climbed up the signal it had received. This signal hadbeen recorded and examined minutely. Angle, strength and Dopplermovement were computed to find course and distance. A few minutes offlight were enough to get within range of the far weaker transmitterin the drop-capsule. Homing on this signal was so simple, a humanpilot could have done it himself. The shining sphere loomed up, thenvanished out of sight of the viewports as the ship rotated to bringthe spacelock into line. Magnetic clamps cut in when they madecontact. 

"Go down and let the bug-doctor in, " Ihjel said. "I'll stay andmonitor the board in case of trouble. "

"What do I have to do?"

"Get into a suit and open the outer lock. Most of the drop sphere ismade of inflatable metallic foil, so don't bother to look for theentrance. Just cut a hole in it with the oversize can-opener you'llfind in the tool box. After Dr. Morees gets aboard jettison thething. Only get the radio and locator unit out first--it gets usedagain. "

The tool did look like a giant can-opener. Brion carefully felt theresilient metal skin that covered the lock entrance, until he wassure there was nothing on the other side. Then he jabbed the pointthrough and cut a ragged hole in the thin foil. Dr. Morees boiledout of the sphere, knocking Brion aside. 

"What's the matter?" Brion asked. 

There was no radio on the other's suit; he couldn't answer. But hedid shake his fist angrily. The helmet ports were opaque, so therewas no way to tell what expressions went with the gesture. Brionshrugged and turned back to salvaging the equipment pack, pushingthe punctured balloon free and sealing the lock. When pressure waspumped back to ship-normal, he cracked his helmet and motioned theother to do the same. 

"You're a pack of dirty lying dogs!" Dr. Morees said when the helmetcame off. Brion was completely baffled. Dr. Lea Morees had long darkhair, large eyes, and a delicately shaped mouth now taut with anger. Dr. Morees was a woman. 

"Are you the filthy swine responsible for this atrocity?" Dr. Moreesasked menacingly. 

"In the control room, " Brion said quickly, knowing when cowardicewas preferable to valor. "A man named Ihjel. There's a lot of himto hate, you can have a good time doing it. I just joined upmyself. .. . " He was talking to her back as she stormed from the room. Brion hurried after her, not wanting to miss the first human sparkof interest in the trip to date. 

"Kidnapped! Lied to, and forced against my will! There is no courtin the galaxy that won't give you the maximum sentence, and I'llscream with pleasure as they roll your fat body into solitary--"

"They shouldn't have sent a woman, " Ihjel said, completely ignoringher words. "I asked for a highly qualified exobiologist for adifficult assignment. Someone young and tough enough to do fieldwork under severe conditions. So the recruiting office sends me thesmallest female they can find, one who'll melt in the first rain. "

"I will not!" Lea shouted. "Female resiliency is a well-known fact, and I'm in far better condition than the average woman. Which hasnothing to do with what I'm telling you. I was hired for a job inthe university on Moller's World and signed a contract to thateffect. Then this bully of an agent tells me the contract has beenchanged--read subparagraph 189-C or some such nonsense--and I'll betranshipping. He stuffed me into that suffocating basketball withouta by-your-leave and they threw me overboard. If that is not aviolation of personal privacy--"

"Cut a new course, Brion, " Ihjel broke in. "Find the nearest settledplanet and head us there. We have to drop this woman and find a manfor this job. We are going to what is undoubtedly the mostinteresting planet an exobiologist ever conceived of, but we needa man who can take orders and not faint when it gets too hot. "

Brion was lost. Ihjel had done all the navigating and Brion had noidea how to begin a search like this. 

"Oh, no you don't, " Lea said. "You don't get rid of me that easily. I placed first in my class, and most of the five hundred otherstudents were male. This is only a man's universe because the mensay so. What is the name of this garden planet where we are going?"

"Dis. I'll give you a briefing as soon as I get this ship oncourse. " He turned to the controls and Lea slipped out of her suitand went into the lavatory to comb her hair. Brion closed his mouth, aware suddenly it had been open for a long time. "Is that what youcall applied psychology?" he asked. 

"Not really. She was going to go along with the job in theend--since she did sign the contract even if she didn't read thefine print--but not until she had exhausted her feelings. I justshortened the process by switching her onto the male-superiorityhate. Most women who succeed in normally masculine fields have areflexive antipathy there; they have been hit on the head with itso much. "

He fed the course tape into the console and scowled. "But there wasa good chunk of truth in what I said. I wanted a young, fit andhighly qualified biologist from recruiting. I never thought theywould find a female one--and it's too late to send her back now. Dis is no place for a woman. "

"Why?" Brion asked, as Lea appeared in the doorway. 

"Come inside, and I'll show you both, " Ihjel said. 

V

"Dis, " Ihjel said, consulting a thick file, "third planet out fromits primary, Epsilon Eridani. The fourth planet is Nyjord--rememberthat, because it is going to be very important. Dis is a place youneed a good reason to visit and no reason at all to leave. Too hot, too dry; the temperature in the temperate zones rarely drops belowa hundred Fahrenheit. The planet is nothing but scorched rock andburning sand. Most of the water is underground and normallyinaccessible. The surface water is all in the form of briny, chemically saturated swamps--undrinkable without extensiveprocessing. All the facts and figures are here in the folder andyou can study them later. Right now I want you just to get the ideathat this planet is as loathsome and inhospitable as they come. Soare the people. This is a solido of a Disan. "

Lea gasped at the three-dimensional representation on the screen. Not at the physical aspects of the man; as a biologist trained inthe specialty of alien life she had seen a lot stranger sights. It was the man's pose, the expression on his face--tensed to leap, his lips drawn back to show all of this teeth. 

"He looks as if he wanted to kill the photographer, " she said. 

"He almost did--just after the picture was taken. Like all Disans, he has an overwhelming hatred and loathing of offworlders. Notwithout good reason, though. His planet was settled completely bychance during the Breakdown. I'm not sure of the details, but theoverall picture is clear, since the story of their desertion formsthe basis of all the myths and animistic religions on Dis. 

"Apparently there were large-scale mining operations carried onthere once; the world is rich enough in minerals and mining themis very simple. But water came only from expensive extractionprocesses and I imagine most of the food came from offworld. Whichwas good enough until the settlement was forgotten, the way a lotof other planets were during the Breakdown. All the records weredestroyed in the fighting, and the ore carriers were pressed intomilitary service. Dis was on its own. What happened to the peoplethere is a tribute to the adaptation possibilities of homo sapiens. Individuals died, usually in enormous pain, but the race lived. Changed a good deal, but still human. As the water and food ran outand the extraction machinery broke down, they must have made heroicefforts to survive. They couldn't do it mechanically, but by thetime the last machine collapsed, enough people were adjusted tothe environment to keep the race going. 

"Their descendants are still there, completely adapted to theenvironment. Their body temperatures are around a hundred and thirtydegrees. They have specialized tissue in the gluteal area forstoring water. These are minor changes, compared to the major onesthey have done in fitting themselves for this planet. I don't knowthe exact details, but the reports are very enthusiastic aboutsymbiotic relationships. They assure us that this is the first timehomo sapiens has been an active part of either commensalism orinquilinism other than in the role of host. "

"Wonderful!" Lea exclaimed. 

"Is it?" Ihjel scowled. "Perhaps from the abstract scientific pointof view. If you can keep notes perhaps you might write a book aboutit some time. But I'm not interested. I'm sure all thesemorphological changes and disgusting intimacies will fascinate you, Dr. Morees. But while you are counting blood types and admiring yourthermometers, I hope you will be able to devote a little time to astudy of the Disans' obnoxious personalities. We must either findout what makes these people tick--or we are going to have to standby and watch the whole lot blown up!"

"Going to do what!" Lea gasped. "Destroy them? Wipe out thisfascinating genetic pool? Why?

"Because they are so incredibly loathsome, that's why!" Ihjel said. "These aboriginal hotheads have managed to lay their hands on someprimitive cobalt bombs. They want to light the fuse and drop thesebombs on Nyjord, the next planet. Nothing said or done can convincethem differently. They demand unconditional surrender, or else. Thisis impossible for a lot of reasons--most important, because theNyjorders would like to keep their planet for their very own. Theyhave tried every kind of compromise but none of them works. TheDisans are out to commit racial suicide. A Nyjord fleet is now overDis and the deadline has almost expired for the surrender of thecobalt bombs. The Nyjord ships carry enough H-bombs to turn theentire planet into an atomic pile. That is what we must stop. "

Brion looked at the solido on the screen, trying to make somejudgment of the man. Bare, horny feet. A bulky, ragged length ofcloth around the waist was the only garment. What looked like apiece of green vine was hooked over one shoulder. From a plaitedbelt were suspended a number of odd devices made of hand-beatenmetal, drilled stone and looped leather. The only recognizable itemwas a thin knife of unusual design. Loops of piping, flared bells, carved stones tied in senseless patterns of thonging gave the restof the collection a bizarre appearance. Perhaps they had somereligious significance. But the well-worn and handled look of mostof them gave Brion an uneasy sensation. If they were used--what inthe universe could they be used _for_?

"I can't believe it, " he finally concluded. "Except for the exotichardware, this lowbrow looks as if he has sunk back into the StoneAge. I don't see how his kind can be any real threat to anotherplanet. "

"The Nyjorders believe it, and that's good enough for me, " Ihjelsaid. "They are paying our Cultural Relationships Foundation a goodsum to try and prevent this war. Since they are our employers, wemust do what they ask. " Brion ignored this large lie, since it wasobviously designed as an explanation for Lea. But he made a mentalnote to query Ihjel later about the real situation. 

"Here are the tech reports. " Ihjel dropped them on the table. "Dishas some spacers as well as the cobalt bombs--though these aren'tthe real threat. A tramp trader was picked up _leaving_ Dis. It haddelivered a jump-space launcher that can drop those bombs on Nyjordwhile anchored to the bedrock of Dis. While essentially a peacefuland happy people, the Nyjorders were justifiably annoyed at this andconvinced the tramp's captain to give them some more information. It's all here. Boiled down, it gives a minimum deadline by whichtime the launcher can be set up and start throwing bombs. "

"When is that deadline?" Lea asked. 

"In ten more days. If the situation hasn't been changed drasticallyby then, the Nyjorders are going to wipe all life from the face ofDis. I assure you they don't want to do it. But they will drop thebombs in order to assure their own survival. "

"What am I supposed to do?" Lea asked, flipping the pages of thereport. "I don't know a thing about nucleonics or jump-space. I'man exobiologist, with a supplementary degree in anthropology. Whathelp could I possibly be?"

Ihjel looked down at her, stroking his jaw, fingers sunk deep intothe rolls of flesh. "My faith in our recruiters is restored, " hesaid. "That's a combination that is probably rare--even on Earth. You're as scrawny as an underfed chicken, but young enough tosurvive if we keep a close eye on you. " He cut off Lea's angryprotest with a raised hand. "No more bickering. There isn't time. The Nyjorders must have lost over thirty agents trying to find thebombs. Our foundation has had six people killed--including my latepredecessor in charge of the project. He was a good man, but I thinkhe went at this problem the wrong way. I think it is a cultural one, not a physical one. "

"Run it through again with the power turned up, " Lea said, frowning. "All I hear is static. "

"It's the old problem of genesis. Like Newton and the falling apple, Levy and the hysteresis in the warp field. Everything has abeginning. If we can find out why these people are so hell-bent onsuicide we might be able to change the reasons. Not that I intendto stop looking for the bombs or the jump-space generator either. We are going to try anything that will avert this planetary murder. "

"You're a lot brighter than you look, " Lea said, rising andcarefully stacking the sheets of the report. "You can count on mefor complete cooperation. Now I'll study all this in bed if one ofyou overweight gentlemen will show me to a room with a strong lockon the inside of the door. Don't call me; I'll call you when I wantbreakfast. "

Brion wasn't sure how much of her barbed speech was humor and howmuch was serious, so he said nothing. He showed her to an emptycabin--she did lock the door--then looked for Ihjel. The Winner wasin the galley adding to his girth with an immense gelatin dessertthat filled a good-sized tureen. 

"Is she short for a native Terran?" Brion asked. "The top of herhead is below my chin. "

"That's the norm. Earth is a reservoir of tired genes. Weak backs, vermiform appendixes, bad eyes. If they didn't have the universitiesand the trained people we need I would never use them. "

"Why did you lie to her about the Foundation?"

"Because it's a secret--isn't that reason enough?" Ihjel rumbledangrily, scraping the last dregs from the bowl. "Better eatsomething. Build up the strength. The Foundation has to maintain itsundercover status if it is going to accomplish anything. If shereturns to Earth after this it's better that she should know nothingof our real work. If she joins up, there'll be time enough to tellher. But I doubt if she will like the way we operate. Particularlysince I plan to drop some H-bombs on Dis myself--if we can't turnoff the war. "

"I don't believe it!"

"You heard me correctly. Don't bulge your eyes and look moronic. As a last resort I'll drop the bombs myself rather than let theNyjorders do it. That might save them. "

"Save them--they'd all be radiated and dead!" Brion's voice rosein anger. 

"Not the Disans. I want to save the Nyjorders. Stop clenching yourfists and sit down and have some of this cake. It's delicious. TheNyjorders are all that counts here. They have a planet blessed bythe laws of chance. When Dis was cut off from outside contact, thesurvivors turned into a gang of swampcrawling homicidals. It did theopposite for Nyjord. You can survive there just by pulling fruit offa tree. The population was small, educated, intelligent. Instead ofsinking into an eternal siesta they matured into a vitally differentsociety. Not mechanical--they weren't even using the wheel when theywere rediscovered. They became sort of cultural specialists, diggingdeep into the philosophical aspects of interrelationship--the thingthat machine societies never have had time for. Of course this wasready-made for the Cultural Relationships Foundation, and we havebeen working with them ever since. Not guiding so much as protectingthem from any blows that might destroy this growing idea. But we'vefallen down on the job. Nonviolence is essential to thesepeople--they have vitality without needing destruction. But if theyare forced to blow up Dis for their own survival--against every oneof their basic tenets--their philosophy won't endure. Physicallythey'll live on, as just one more dog-eat-dog planet with an A-bombfor any of the competition who drop behind. "

"Sounds like paradise now. "

"Don't be smug. It's just another worldful of people with the sameold likes, dislikes and hatreds. But they are evolving a way ofliving together, without violence, that may some day form the key tomankind's survival. They are worth looking after. Now get below andstudy your Disan and read the reports. Get it all pat before weland. "

VI

"Identify yourself, please. " The quiet words from the speaker in noway appeared to coincide with the picture on the screen. The spacerthat had matched their orbit over Dis had recently been a freighter. A quick conversion had tacked the hulking shape of a primary weaponsturret on top of her hull. The black disc of the immense muzzlepointed squarely at them. Ihjel switched open the ship-to-shipcommunication channel. 

"This is Ihjel. Retinal pattern 490-BJ4-67--which is also the codethat is supposed to get me through your blockade. Do you want tocheck that pattern?"

"There will be no need, thank you. If you will turn on your recorderI have a message relayed to you from Prime-four. "

"Recording and out, " Ihjel said. "Damn! Trouble already, and fourdays to blowup. Prime-four is our headquarters on Dis. This shipcarries a cover cargo so we can land at the spaceport. This isprobably a change of plan and I don't like the smell of it. "

There was something behind Ihjel's grumbling this time, and withoutconscious effort Brion could sense the chilling touch of the otherman's _angst_. Trouble was waiting for them on the planet below. When the message was typed by the decoder Ihjel hovered over it, reading each word as it appeared on the paper. When it was finishedhe only snorted and went below to the galley. Brion pulled themessage out of the machine and read it. 

 IHJEL IHJEL IHJEL SPACEPORT LANDING DANGER NIGHT LANDING PREFERABLE COORDINATES MAP 46 J92 MN75 REMOTE YOUR SHIP VION WILL MEET END END END

Dropping into the darkness was safe enough. It was done oninstruments, and the Disans were thought to have no detectionapparatus. The altimeter dials spun backwards to zero and a softvibration was the only indication they had landed. All of the cabinlights were off except for the fluorescent glow of the instruments. A white-speckled grey filled the infra-red screen, radiation fromthe still warm sand and stone. There were no moving blips on it, not the characteristic shape of a shielded atomic generator. 

"We're here first, " Ihjel said, opaqueing the ports and turning onthe cabin lights. They blinked at each other, faces damp withperspiration. 

"Must you have the ship this hot?" Lea asked, patting her foreheadwith an already sodden kerchief. Stripped of her heavier clothing, she looked even tinier to Brion. But the thin cloth tunic--reachingbarely halfway to her knees--concealed very little. Small she mayhave appeared to him: unfeminine she was not. Her breasts were fulland high, her waist tiny enough to offset the outward curve of herhips. 

"Shall I turn around so you can stare at the back too?" she askedBrion. Five days' experience had taught him that this type of remarkwas best ignored. It only became worse if he tried to make anintelligent answer. 

"Dis is hotter than this cabin, " he said, changing the subject. "By raising the interior temperature we can at least prevent anysudden shock when we go out--"

"I know the theory--but it doesn't stop me from sweating, " she saidcurtly. 

"Best thing you can do is sweat. " Ihjel said. He looked like aglistening captive balloon in shorts. Finishing a bottle of beer, he took another from the freezer. "Have a beer. "

"No, thank you. I'm afraid it would dissolve the last shreds oftissue and my kidneys would float completely away. On Earth wenever--"

"Get Professor Morees' luggage for her, " Ihjel interrupted. "Vion'scoming, there's his signal. I'm sending this ship up before any ofthe locals spot it. "

When he cracked the outer port the puff of air struck them like theexhaust from a furnace, dry and hot as a tongue of flame. Brionheard Lea's gasp in the darkness. She stumbled down the ramp and hefollowed her slowly, careful of the weight of packs and equipment hecarried. The sand, still hot from the day, burned through his boots. Ihjel came last, the remote-control unit in his hand. As soon asthey were clear he activated it and the ramp slipped back like agiant tongue. As soon as the lock had swung shut, the ship liftedand drifted upwards silently towards its orbit, a shrinking darknessagainst the stars. 

There was just enough starlight to see the sandy wastes around them, as wave-filled as a petrified sea. The dark shape of a sand car drewup over a dune and hummed to a stop. When the door opened Ihjelstepped towards it and everything happened at once. 

Ihjel broke into a blue nimbus of crackling flame, his skinblackening, charred. He was dead in an instant. A second pillar offlame bloomed next to the car, and a choking scream was cut off atthe moment it began. Ihjel died silently. 

Brion was diving even as the electrical discharges still crackled inthe air. The boxes and packs dropped from him and he slammed againstLea, knocking her to the ground. He hoped she had the sense to staythere and be quiet. This was his only conscious thought, the restwas reflex. He was rolling over and over as fast as he could. 

The spitting electrical flames flared again, playing over thebundles of luggage he had dropped. This time Brion was expecting it, pressed flat on the ground a short distance away. He was facing thedarkness away from the sand car and saw the brief, blue glow of theion-rifle discharge. His own gun was in his hand. When Ihjel hadgiven him the missile weapon he had asked no questions, but had juststrapped it on. There had been no thought that he would need it thisquickly. Holding it firmly before him in both hands, he let hisbody aim at the spot where the glow had been. A whiplash ofexplosive slugs ripped the night air. They found their target andsomething thrashed voicelessly and died. 

In the brief instant after he fired, a jarring weight landed on hisback and a line of fire circled his throat. Normally he fought witha calm mind, with no thoughts other than of the contest. But Ihjel, a friend, a man of Anvhar, had died a few seconds before, and Brionfound himself welcoming this physical violence and pain. 

There are many foolish and dangerous things that can be done, suchas smoking next to high-octane fuel and putting fingers intoelectrical sockets. Just as dangerous, and equally deadly, isphysically attacking a Winner of the Twenties. 

Two men hit Brion together, though this made very little difference. The first died suddenly as hands like steel claws found his neck andin a single spasmodic contraction did such damage to the large bloodvessels there that they burst and tiny hemorrhages filled his brain. The second man had time for a single scream, though he died just asswiftly when those hands closed on his larynx. 

Running in a crouch, partially on his knuckles, Brion swiftly madea circle of the area, gun ready. There were no others. Only whenhe touched the softness of Lea's body did the blood anger seep fromhim. He was suddenly aware of the pain and fatigue, the sweatsoaking his body and the breath rasping in his throat. Holsteringthe gun, he ran light fingers over her skull, finding a bruised spoton one temple. Her chest was rising and falling regularly. She hadstruck her head when he pushed her. It had undoubtedly saved herlife. 

Sitting down suddenly, he let his body relax, breathing deeply. Everything was a little better now, except for the pain at histhroat. His fingers found a thin strand on the side of his neck witha knobby weight on the end. There was another weight on his othershoulder and a thin line of pain across his neck. When he pulled onthem both, the strangler's cord came away in his hand. It was thinfiber, strong as a wire. When it had been pulled around his neck ithad sliced the surface skin and flesh like a knife, halted only bythe corded bands of muscle below. Brion threw it from him, into thedarkness where it had come from. 

He could think again, and he carefully kept his thoughts from themen he had killed. Knowing it was useless, he went to Ihjel's body. A single touch of the scorched flesh was enough. Behind him Leamoaned with returning consciousness and he hurried on to the sandcar, stepping over the charred body outside the door. The driverslumped, dead, killed perhaps by the same strangling cord that hadsunk into Brion's throat. He laid the man gently on the sand andclosed the lids over the staring horror of the eyes. There was acanteen in the car and he brought it back to Lea. 

"My head--I've hurt my head, " she said groggily. 

"Just a bruise, " he reassured her. "Drink some of this water andyou'll soon feel better. Lie back. Everything's over for the momentand you can rest. "

"Ihjel's dead!" Lea said with sudden shocked memory. "They've killedhim! What's happened?" she tensed, tried to rise, and he pressed herback gently. 

"I'll tell you everything. Just don't try to get up yet. There wasan ambush and they killed Vion and the driver of the sand car, aswell as Ihjel. Three men did it and they're all dead now too. Idon't think there are any more around, but if there are I'll hearthem coming. We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feelbetter, then we're getting out of here in the car. "

"Bring the ship down!" There was a thin note of hysteria in hervoice. "We can't stay here alone. We don't know where to go or whatto do. With Ihjel dead, the whole thing's spoiled. We have to getout. .. . "

There are some things that can't sound gentle, no matter how gentlythey are said. This was one of them. "I'm sorry, Lea, but the shipis out of our reach right now. Ihjel was killed with an ion gun andit fused the control unit into a solid lump. We must take the carand get to the city. We'll do it now. See if you can stand up--I'llhelp you. "

She rose, not saying anything, and as they walked towards the cara single, reddish moon cleared the hills behind them. In its lightBrion saw a dark line bisecting the rear panel of the sand car. Hestopped abruptly. "What's the matter?" Lea asked. 

The unlocked engine cover could have only one significance and hepushed it open, knowing in advance what he would see. The attackershad been very thorough and fast. In the short time available to themthey had killed the driver and the car as well. Ruddy light shone ontorn wires, ripped out connections. Repair would be impossible. 

"I think we'll have to walk, " he told her, trying to keep the gloomout of his voice. "This spot is roughly a hundred and fiftykilometres from the city of Hovedstad, where we have to go. We should be able to--"

"We're going to die. We can't walk anywhere. This whole planet is adeath trap. Let's get back in the ship!" The shrillness of hysteriawas at the edge of her voice, as well as a subtle slurring ofsounds. 

Brion didn't try to reason with her or bother to explain. She had aconcussion from the blow, that much was obvious. He had her sit andrest while he made what preparations he could for the long walk. 

Clothing first. With each passing minute the desert air was growingcolder as the day's heat ebbed away. Lea was beginning to shiver, and he took some heavier clothing from her charred bag and made herpull it on over her light tunic. There was little else that wasworth carrying--the canteen from the car and a first-aid kit hefound in one of the compartments. There were no maps and no radio. Navigation was obviously done by compass on this almost featurelessdesert. The car was equipped with an electrically operatedgyrocompass, of no use to him now. But he did use it to check thedirection of Hovedstad, as he remembered it from the map, and foundit lined up perfectly with the tracks the car had cut into thesand. It had come directly from the city. They could find their wayby back-tracking. 

Time was slipping away. He would have liked to bury Ihjel and themen from the car, but the night hours were too valuable to bewasted. The best he could do was put the three corpses in the car, for protection from the Disan animals. He locked the door and threwthe key as far as he could into the blackness. Lea had slipped intoa restless sleep and he carefully shook her awake. 

"Come, " Brion said. "We have a little walking to do. "

VII

With the cool air and firmly packed sand under foot, walking shouldhave been easy. Lea spoiled that. The concussion seemed to havetemporarily cut off the reasoning part of her brain, leaving adirect connection to her vocal cords. As she stumbled along, onlyhalf conscious, she mumbled all of her darkest fears that werebetter left unvoiced. Occasionally there was relevancy in hercomplaints. They would lose their way, never find the city, die ofthirst, freezing, heat or hunger. Interspersed and entwined withthese were fears from her past that still floated, submerged in thetimeless ocean of her subconscious. Some Brion could understand, though he tried not to listen. Fears of losing credits, not gettingthe highest grade, falling behind, a woman alone in a world of men, leaving school, being lost, trampled among the nameless hordes thatstruggled for survival in the crowded city-states of Earth. 

There were other things she was afraid of that made no sense to aman of Anvhar. Who were the alkians that seemed to trouble her? Orwhat was canceri? Daydle and haydle? Who was Manstan, whose namekept coming up, over and over, each time accompanied by a littlemoan?

Brion stopped and picked her up in both arms. With a sigh shesettled against the hard width of his chest and was instantlyasleep. Even with the additional weight he made better time now, andhe stretched to his fastest, kilometre-consuming stride to make gooduse of these best hours. 

Somewhere on a stretch of gravel and shelving rock he lost the trackof the sand car. He wasted no time looking for it. By carefullywatching the glistening stars rise and set he had made a goodestimate of the geographic north. Dis didn't seem to have a polestar; however, a boxlike constellation turned slowly around theinvisible point of the pole. Keeping this positioned in line withhis right shoulder guided him on the westerly course he needed. 

When his arms began to grow tired he lowered Lea gently to theground; she didn't wake. Stretching for an instant, before taking uphis burden again, Brion was struck by the terrible loneliness of thedesert. His breath made a vanishing mist against the stars; all elsewas darkness and silence. How distant he was from his home, hispeople, his planet! Even the constellations of the night sky weredifferent. He was used to solitude, but this was a loneliness thattouched some deep-buried instinct. A shiver that wasn't from thedesert cold touched lightly along his spine, prickling at the hairson his neck. 

It was time to go on. He shrugged the disquieting sensations off andcarefully tied Lea into the jacket he had been wearing. Slung like apack on his back, it made the walking easier. The gravel gave way tosliding dunes of sand that seemed to continue to infinity. It was apainful, slipping climb to the top of each one, then an equallydifficult descent to the black-pooled hollow at the foot of thenext. 

With the first lightening of the sky in the east he stopped, breathrasping in his chest, to mark his direction before the stars faded. One line scratched in the sand pointed due north, a second pointedout the course they should follow. When they were aligned to hissatisfaction he washed his mouth out with a single swallow of waterand sat on the sand next to the still form of the girl. 

Gold fingers of fire searched across the sky, wiping out the stars. It was magnificent; Brion forgot his fatigue in appreciation. Thereshould be some way of preserving it. A quatrain would be best. Shortenough to be remembered, yet requiring attention and skill tocompact everything into it. He had scored high with his quatrains inthe Twenties. This would be a special one. Taind, his poetry mentor, would have to get a copy. 

"What are you mumbling about?" Lea asked, looking up at the craggyblackness of his profile against the reddening sky. 

"Poem, " he said. "Shhh. Just a minute. "

It was too much for Lea, coming after the tension and dangers of thenight. She began to laugh, laughing even harder when he scowled ather. Only when she heard the tinge of growing hysteria did she makean attempt to break off the laughter. The sun cleared the horizon, washing a sudden warmth over them. Lea gasped. 

"Your throat's been cut! You're bleeding to death!"

"Not really, " he said, touching his fingertips lightly against theblood-clotted wound that circled his neck. "Just superficial. "

Depression sat on him as he suddenly remembered the battle and deathof the previous night. Lea didn't notice his face; she was busydigging in the pack he had thrown down. He had to use his fingers tomassage and force away the grimace of pain that twisted his mouth. Memory was more painful than the wound. How easily he had killed!Three men. How close to the surface of the civilized man the animaldwelled! In countless matches he had used those holds, alwaysdrawing back from the exertion of the full killing power. They werepart of a game, part of the Twenties. Yet when his friend had beenkilled he had become a killer himself. He believed in nonviolenceand the sanctity of life--until the first test, when he had killedwithout hesitation. More ironic was the fact he really felt noguilt, even now. Shock at the change, yes. But no more than that. 

"Lift your chin, " Lea said, brandishing the antiseptic applicatorshe had found in the medicine kit. He lifted his chin obligingly andthe liquid drew a cool, burning line across his neck. Antibio pillswould do a lot more good, since the wound was completely clotted bynow, but he didn't speak his thoughts aloud. For the moment Lea hadforgotten herself in taking care of him. He put some of theantiseptic on her scalp bruise and she squeaked, pulling back. They both swallowed the pills. 

"That sun is hot already, " Lea said, peeling off her heavyclothing. "Let's find a nice cool cave or an air-cooled saloonto crawl into for the day. "

"I don't think there are any here. Just sand. We have to walk--"

"I know we have to walk, " she interrupted. "There's no need for alecture about it. You're as seriously cubical as the Bank of Terra. Relax. Count ten and start again. " Lea was making empty talk whileshe listened to the memory of hysteria tittering at the fringes ofher brain. 

"No time for that. We have to keep going. " Brion climbed slowly tohis feet after stowing everything in the pack. When he sighted alonghis marker at the western horizon he saw nothing to mark theircourse, only the marching dunes. He helped Lea to her feet and beganwalking slowly towards them. 

"Just hold on a second, " Lea called after him. "Where do you thinkyou're going?"

"In that direction, " he said, pointing. "I hoped there would besome landmarks, but there aren't. We'll have to keep on by deadreckoning. The sun will keep us pretty well on course. If we aren'tthere by night the stars will be a better guide. "

"All this on an empty stomach? How about breakfast? I'm hungry--andthirsty. "

"No food. " He shook the canteen that gurgled emptily. It had beenonly partly filled when he found it. "The water's low and we'll needit later. "

"I need it now, " she said shortly. "My mouth tastes like anunemptied ashtray and I'm dry as paper. "

"Just a single swallow, " he said after the briefest hesitation. "This is all we have. "

Lea sipped at it with her eyes closed in appreciation. Then hesealed the top and returned it to the pack without taking anyhimself. They were sweating as they started up the first dune. 

The desert was barren of life; they were the only things movingunder that merciless sun. Their shadows pointed the way ahead ofthem, and as the shadows shortened the heat rose. It had anintensity Lea had never experienced before, a physical weight thatpushed at her with a searing hand. Her clothing was sodden withperspiration, and it trickled burning into her eyes. The light andheat made it hard to see, and she leaned on the immovable strengthof Brion's arm. He walked on steadily, apparently ignoring the heatand discomfort. 

"I wonder if those things are edible--or store water?" Brion's voicewas a harsh rasp. Lea blinked and squinted at the leathery shape onthe summit of the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. It wasthe size of a man's head, wrinkled and grey as dried-out leather, knobbed with thick spikes. Brion pushed it up with his toe and theyhad a brief glimpse of a white roundness, like a shiny taproot, going down into the dune. Then the thing contracted, pulling itselflower into the sand. At the same instant something thin and sharplashed out through a fold in the skin, striking at Brion's boot andwithdrawing. There was a scratch on the hard plastic, beaded withdrops of green liquid. 

"Probably poison, " he said, digging his toe into the sand. "Thisthing is too mean to fool with--without a good reason. Let's keepgoing. "

It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really wanted to go on, but her body wouldn't obey. The thin soles of her shoes were noprotection against the burning sand and her feet were lumps of rawpain. Heat hammered down, poured up from the sand and swirled her inan oven of pain. The air she gasped in was molten metal that driedand cracked her mouth. Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to thewound in her scalp until it seemed her skull would burst with theagony. She had stripped down to the short tunic--in spite of Brion'sinsistence that she keep her body protected from the sun--and thatclung to her, soaked with sweat. She tore at it in a desperateeffort to breathe. There was no escape from the unending heat. 

Though the baked sand burned torture into her knees and hands, she couldn't rise. It took all her strength not to fall further. Her eyes closed and everything swirled in immense circles. 

Brion, blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go down. He liftedher, and carried her again as he had the night before. The hot touchof her body shocked his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. Thetunic was torn open and one pointed breast rose and fell unevenlywith the irregularity of her breathing. Wiping his palm free ofsweat and sand, he touched her skin and felt the ominous hotdryness. 

Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the raggedbreathing. Her temperature rising quickly as her body stoppedfighting the heat and succumbed. 

There was nothing he could do here to protect her from the heat. Hemeasured a tiny portion of the remaining water into her mouth andshe swallowed convulsively. Her thin clothing was little protectionfrom the sun. He could only take her in his arms and keep on towardsthe horizon. An outcropping of rock threw a tiny patch of shade andhe walked towards it. 

The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of the sun, feltalmost cool by contrast. Lea opened her eyes when he put her down, peering up at him through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize tohim for her weakness, but no words came from the dried membrane ofher throat. His body above her seemed to swim back and forth in theheat waves, swaying like a tree in a high wind. 

Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for an instant. Hereally was swaying. Suddenly she realized how much she had come todepend on the unending solidity of his strength--and now it wasfailing. All over his body the corded muscles contracted in ridges, striving to keep him erect. She saw his mouth pulled open by thetaut cords of his neck, and the gaping, silent scream was moreterrible than any sound. Then she herself screamed as his eyesrolled back, leaving only the empty white of the eyeballs staringterribly at her. He went over, back, down, like a felled tree, thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious or dead, she couldn'ttell. She pulled limply at his leg, but couldn't drag his immenseweight into the shade. 

Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw this and knewthat he was still alive. Yet what was happening? She groped formemory in the red haze of her mind, but could remember nothing fromher medical studies that would explain this. On every square inch ofhis body the sweat glands seethed with sudden activity. From everypore oozed great globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normalperspiration. Brion's arms rippled with motion and Lea gaped, horrified as the hairs there writhed and stirred as though endowedwith separate life. His chest rose and fell rapidly, deep, gaspingbreaths racking his body. Lea could only stare through the dimredness of unreality and wonder if she was going mad before shedied. 

A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping breath, and when itwas over his breathing was easier. The perspiration still coveredhis body, the individual beads touching and forming tiny streamsthat trickled down his body and vanished in the sand. He stirred androlled onto his side, facing her. His eyes were open and normal nowas he smiled. 

"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly coming at thewrong season and everything. It was a bit of a jar to my system. I'll get you some water now--there's still a bit left. "

"What happened? When you looked like that, when you fell. .. . "

"Take two swallows, no more, " he said, holding the open canteen toher mouth. "Just summer change, that's all. It happens to us everyyear on Anvhar--only not that violently, of course. In the winterour bodies store a layer of fat under the skin for insulation, andsweating almost ceases completely. There are a lot of internalchanges too. When the weather warms up the process is reversed. Thefat is metabolized and the sweat glands enlarge and begin workingovertime as the body prepares for two months of hard work, heat andlittle sleep. I guess the heat here triggered off the summer changeearly. "

"You mean--you've adapted to this terrible planet?"

"Just about. Though it does feel a little warm. I'll need a lotmore water soon, so we can't remain here. Do you think you can standthe sun if I carry you?"

"No, but I won't feel any better staying here. " She waslight-headed, scarcely aware of what she said. "Keep going, I guess. Keep going. "

As soon as she was out of the shadow of the rock the sunlight burstover her again in a wave of hot pain. She fell unconscious at once. Brion picked her up and staggered forward. After a few yards, hebegan to feel the pull of the sand. He knew he was reaching the endof his strength. He went more slowly and each dune seemed a bithigher than the one before. Giant, sand-scoured rocks pushed throughthe dunes here and he had to stumble around them. At the base ofthe largest of these monoliths was a straggling clump of knottedvegetation. He passed it by--then stopped as something tried topenetrate his heat-crazed mind. What was it? A difference. Somethingabout these plants that he hadn't noticed in any of the othershe had passed during the day. 

It was almost like defeat to turn and push his clumsy feet backwardsin his own footprints; to stand blinking helplessly at the plants. Yet they were important. Some of them had been cut off close to thesand. Not broken by any natural cause, but cut sharply and squarelyby a knife or blade of some sort. The cut plants were long dried anddead, but a tiny hope flared up in him. This was the first sign thatother people were actually alive on this heat-blasted planet. Andwhatever the plants had been cut for, they might be of aid to him. Food--perhaps drink. His hands trembled at the thought as he droppedLea heavily into the shade of the rock. She didn't stir. 

His knife was sharp, but most of the strength was gone from hishands. Breath rasping in his dried throat, he sawed at the toughstem, finally cutting it through. Raising up the shrub, he sawa thick liquid dripping from the severed end. He braced his handagainst his leg, so it wouldn't shake and spill, until his cuppedpalm was full of sap. 

It was wet, even a little cool as it evaporated. Surely it wasmostly life-giving water. He had a moment's misgiving as he raisedit to his lips, and instead of drinking it merely touched it withthe tip of his tongue. 

At first nothing--then a searing pain. It stabbed deep into histhroat and choked him. His stomach heaved and he vomited bitterbile. On his knees, fighting the waves of pain, he lost body fluidhe vitally needed. 

Despair was worse than the pain. The plant juice must have some use;there must be a way of purifying it or neutralizing it. But Brion, a stranger on this planet, would be dead long before he found outhow to do this. 

Weakened by the cramps that still tore at him, he tried not torealize how close to the end he was. Getting the girl on his backseemed an impossible task, and for an instant he was tempted toleave her there. Yet even as he considered this he shouldered herleaden weight and once more went on. Each footstep an effort, hefollowed his own track up the dune. Painfully he forced his wayto the top, and looked at the Disan standing a few feet away. 

They were both too surprised by the sudden encounter to react atonce. For a breath of time they stared at each other, unmoving. Whenthey reacted it was the same defense of fear. Brion dropped thegirl, bringing the gun up from the holster in the return of the samemotion. The Disan jerked a belled tube from his waistband and raisedit to his mouth. 

Brion didn't fire. A dead man had taught him how to train hisempathetic sense, and to trust it. In spite of the fear that wantedhim to jerk the trigger, a different sense read the unvoicedemotions of the native Disan. There was fear there, and hatred. Welling up around these was a strong desire not to commit violence, this time, to communicate instead. Brion felt and recognized allthis in a fraction of a second. He had to act instantly to avoid atragic happening. A jerk of his wrist threw the gun to one side. 

As soon as it was gone he regretted its loss. He was gambling theirlives on an ability he still was not sure of. The Disan had thetube to his mouth when the gun hit the ground. He held the pose, unmoving, thinking. Then he accepted Brion's action and thrust thetube back into his waistband. 

"Do you have any water?" Brion asked, the guttural Disan wordshurting his throat. 

"I have water, " the man said. He still didn't move. "Who are you?What are you doing here?"

"We're from offplanet. We had . .. An accident. We want to goto the city. The water. "

The Disan looked at the unconscious girl and made his decision. Overone shoulder he wore one of the green objects that Brion rememberedfrom the solido. He pulled it off and the thing writhed slowly inhis hands. It was alive--a green length a metre long, like a noduledsection of a thick vine. One end flared out into a petal-likeformation. The Disan took a hook-shaped object from his waist andthrust it into the petaled orifice. When he turned the hook in aquick motion the length of green writhed and curled around his arm. He pulled something small and dark out and threw it to the ground, extending the twisting green shape towards Brion. "Put your mouth tothe end and drink, " he said. 

Lea needed the water more, but he drank first, suspicious of theliving water source. A hollow below the writhing petals was fillingwith straw-colored water from the fibrous, reedy interior. He raisedit to his mouth and drank. The water was hot and tasted swampy. Sudden sharp pains around his mouth made him jerk the thing away. Tiny glistening white barbs projected from the petals pink-tippednow with his blood. Brion swung towards the Disan angrily--andstopped when he looked at the other man's face. His mouth wassurrounded by many small white scars. 

"The _vaede_ does not like to give up its water, but it alwaysdoes, " the man said. 

Brion drank again, then put the vaede to Lea's mouth. She moanedwithout regaining consciousness, her lips seeking reflexively forthe life-saving liquid. When she was satisfied Brion gently drew thebarbs from her flesh and drank again. The Disan hunkered down onhis heels and watched them expressionlessly. Brion handed back thevaede, then held some of the clothes so that Lea was in their shade. He settled to the same position as the native and looked closelyat him. 

Squatting immobile on his heels, the Disan appeared perfectlycomfortable under the flaming sun. There was no trace ofperspiration on his naked, browned skin. Long hair fell to hisshoulders, and startlingly blue eyes stared back at Brion fromdeepset sockets. The heavy kilt around his loins was the onlygarment he wore. Once more the vaede rested over his shoulder, stillstirring unhappily. Around his waist was the same collection ofleather, stone and brass objects that had been in the solido. Two ofthem now had meaning to Brion: the tube-and-mouthpiece, a blowgun ofsome kind; and the specially shaped hook for opening the vaede. Hewondered if the other strangely formed things had equally practicalfunctions. If you accepted them as artifacts with a purpose--notbarbaric decorations--you had to accept their owner as somethingmore than the crude savage he resembled. 

"My name is Brion. And you--"

"You may not have my name. Why are you here? To kill my people?"

Brion forced away the memory of last night. Killing was just what hehad done. Some expectancy in the man's manner, some sensed feelingof hope prompted Brion to speak the truth. 

"I'm here to stop your people from being killed. I believe in theend of the war. "

"Prove it. "

"Take me to the Cultural Relationships Foundations in the city andI'll prove it. I can do nothing here in the desert. Except die. "

For the first time there was emotion on the Disan's face. He frownedand muttered something to himself. There was a fine beading of sweatabove his eyebrows now as he fought an internal battle. Coming to adecision, he rose, and Brion stood too. 

"Come with me. I'll take you to Hovedstad. But first you will tellme--are you from Nyjord?"

"No. "

The nameless Disan merely grunted and turned away. Brion shoulderedLea's unconscious body and followed him. They walked for two hours, the Disan setting a cruel pace, before they reached a wasteland ofjumbled rock. The native pointed to the highest tower of sand-erodedstone. "Wait near this, " he said. "Someone will come for you. " Hewatched while Brion placed the girl's still body in the shade, andpassed over the vaede for the last time. Just before leaving heturned back, hesitating. 

"My name is . .. Ulv, " he said. Then he was gone. 

Brion did what he could to make Lea comfortable, but it was verylittle. If she didn't get medical attention soon she would be dead. Dehydration and shock were uniting to destroy her. 

Just before sunset he heard clanking, and the throbbing whine ofa sand car's engine coming from the west. 

VIII

With each second the noise grew louder, coming their way. The trackssqueaked as the car turned around the rock spire, obviously seekingthem out. A large carrier, big as a truck, it stopped before them ina cloud of its own dust and the driver kicked the door open. 

"Get in here--and fast!" the man shouted. "You're letting in all theheat. " He gunned the engine, ready to kick in the gears, and lookedat them irritatedly. 

Ignoring the driver's nervous instructions, Brion carefully placedLea on the rear seat before he pulled the door shut. The car surgedforward instantly, a blast of icy air pouring from the air-coolingvents. It wasn't cold in the vehicle--but the temperature was atleast forty degrees lower than the outer air. Brion covered Lea withall their extra clothing to prevent any further shock to her system. The driver, hunched over the wheel and driving with an intensespeed, hadn't said a word to them since they had entered. 

Brion looked up as another man stepped from the engine compartmentin the rear of the car. He was thin, harried-looking. And he waspointing a gun. 

"Who are you?" he said, without a trace of warmth in his voice. 

It was a strange reception, but Brion was beginning to realize thatDis was a strange planet. The other man chewed at his lip nervouslywhile Brion sat, relaxed and unmoving. He didn't want to startle himinto pulling the trigger, and he kept his voice pitched low as heanswered. 

"My name is Brandd. We landed from space two nights ago and havebeen walking in the desert ever since. Now don't get excited andshoot the gun when I tell you this--but both Vion and Ihjel aredead. "

The man with the gun gasped, his eyes widened. The driver threw asingle frightened look over his shoulder, then turned quickly backto the wheel. Brion's probe had hit its mark. If these men weren'tfrom the Cultural Relationships Foundation they at least knew a lotabout it. It seemed safe to assume they were C. R. F. Men. 

"When they were shot the girl and I escaped. We were trying to reachthe city and contact you. You are from the Foundation, aren't you?"

"Yes. Of course, " the man said, lowering the gun. He staredglassy-eyed into space for a moment, nervously working his teethagainst his lip. Startled at his own inattention, he raised the gunagain. 

"If you're Brandd, there's something I want to know. " Rummagingin his breast pocket with his free hand, he brought out a yellowmessage form. He moved his lips as he reread the message. "Nowanswer me--if you can--what are the last three events in the . .. "He took a quick look at the paper again. ". .. In the Twenties?"

"Chess finals, rifle prone position, and fencing playoffs. Why?"

The man grunted and slid the pistol back into its holder, satisfied. "I'm Faussel, " he said, and waved the message at Brion. "This isIhjel's last will and testament, relayed to us by the Nyjordblockade control. He thought he was going to die and he sure wasright. Passed on his job to you. You're in charge. I was Mervv'ssecond-in-command, until he was poisoned. I was supposed to work forIhjel, and now I guess I'm yours. At least until tomorrow, whenwe'll have everything packed and get off this hell planet. "

"What do you mean, tomorrow?" Brion asked. "It's three days todeadline and we still have a job to do. "

Faussel had dropped heavily into one of the seats and he sprang tohis feet again, clutching the seat back to keep his balance in theswaying car. 

"Three days, three weeks, three minutes--what difference does itmake?" His voice rose shrilly with each word, and he had to make adefinite effort to master himself before he could go on. "Look. Youdon't know anything about this. You just arrived and that's your badluck. My bad luck is being assigned to this death trap and watchingthe depraved and filthy things the natives do. And trying to bepolite to them even when they are killing my friends, and thoseNyjord bombers up there with their hands on the triggers. One ofthose bombardiers is going to start thinking about home and aboutthe cobalt bombs down here and he's going to press that button, deadline or no deadline. "

"Sit down, Faussel. Sit down and take a rest. " There was sympathy inBrion's voice--but also the firmness of an order. Faussel swayed fora second longer, then collapsed. He sat with his cheek against thewindow, eyes closed. A pulse throbbed visibly in his temple and hislips worked. He had been under too much tension for too long a time. 

This was the atmosphere that hung heavily in the air at the C. R. F. Building when they arrived. Despair and defeat. The doctor was theonly one who didn't share this mood as he bustled Lea off to theclinic with prompt efficiency. He obviously had enough patients tokeep his mind occupied. With the others the feeling of depressionwas unmistakable. From the instant they had driven through theautomatic garage door, Brion had swum in this miasma of defeat. It was omnipresent and hard to ignore. 

As soon as he had eaten he went with Faussel into what was to havebeen Ihjel's office. Through the transparent walls he could see thestaff packing the records, crating them for shipment. Faussel seemedless nervous now that he was no longer in command. Brion rejectedany idea he had of letting the man know that he himself was onlya novice in the foundation. He was going to need all the authorityhe could muster, since they would undoubtedly hate him for what hewas going to do. 

"Better take notes of this, Faussel, and have it typed. I'll signit. " The printed word always carried more weight. "All preparationsfor leaving are to be stopped at once. Records are to be returnedto the files. We are going to stay here just as long as we haveclearance from the Nyjorders. If this operation is unsuccessful wewill all leave together when the time expires. We will take whateverpersonal baggage we can carry by hand; everything else stays here. Perhaps you don't realize we are here to save a planet--not filecabinets full of papers. "

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faussel flush with anger. "Assoon as that is typed bring it back. And all the reports as to whathas been accomplished on this project. That will be all for now. "

Faussel stamped out, and a minute later Brion saw the shocked, angrylooks from the workers in the outer office. Turning his back tothem, he opened the drawers in the desk, one after another. The topdrawer was empty, except for a sealed envelope. It was addressed toWinner Ihjel. 

Brion looked at it thoughtfully, then ripped it open. The letterinside was handwritten. 

 _Ihjel:_

 _I've had the official word that you are on the way to relieve me and I am forced to admit I feel only an intense satisfaction. You've had the experience on these outlaw planets and can get along with the odd types. I have been specializing in research for the last twenty years, and the only reason I was appointed planetary supervisor on Nyjord was because of the observation and application facilities. I'm the research type, not the office type; no one has ever denied that. _

 _You're going to have trouble with the staff, so you had better realize that they are all compulsory volunteers. Half are clerical people from my staff. The others a mixed bag of whoever was close enough to be pulled in on this crash assignment. It developed so fast we never saw it coming. And I'm afraid we've done little or nothing to stop it. We can't get access to the natives here, not in the slightest. It's frightening! They don't fit! I've done Poisson Distributions on a dozen different factors and none of them can be equated. The Pareto Extrapolations don't work. Our field men can't even talk to the natives and two have been killed trying. The ruling class is unapproachable and the rest just keep their mouths shut and walk away. _

 _I'm going to take a chance and try to talk to Lig-magte, perhaps I can make him see sense. I doubt if it will work and there is a chance he will try violence with me. The nobility here are very prone to violence. If I get back all right you won't see this note. Otherwise--good-by, Ihjel. Try to do a better job than I did. _ _Aston Mervv_

 _P. S. There is a problem with the staff. They are supposed to be saviors, but without exception they all loathe the Disans. I'm afraid I do too. _

Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He had to findsome way of discovering what Pareto Extrapolations were--withoutuncovering his own lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in fiveminutes if they knew how new he was at the job. Poisson Distributionmade more sense. It was used in physics as the unchangingprobability of an event that would be true at all times. Such asthe numbers of particles that would be given off by a lump ofradioactive matter during a short period. From the way Mervv usedit in his letter it looked as if the societics people had foundmeasurable applications in societies and groups. At least on otherplanets. None of the rules seemed to be working on Dis. Ihjel hadadmitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it. Brion wondered whothis Lig-magte was who appeared to have killed Mervv. 

A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration, and he realizedthat Faussel had been standing in front of his desk for someminutes. Brion looked up and mopped perspiration from his face. 

"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order, " Faussel said. "Should I have the mechanic look at it?"

"There's nothing wrong with the machine; I'm just adapting to Dis'sclimate. What else do you want, Faussel?"

The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't succeed in hiding. He also had trouble believing the literal truth. He placed the smallstack of file folders on the desk. 

"These are the reports to date, everything we have uncovered aboutthe Disans. It's not very much; but considering the anti-socialattitudes on this lousy world it is the best we could do. " A suddenthought hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be helped, but some of the staff have been wondering out loud about that nativethat contacted us. How did you get him to help you? We've nevergotten to first base with these people, and as soon as you land youhave one working for you. You can't stop people from thinking aboutit, you being a newcomer and a stranger. After all, it looks alittle odd--" He broke off in midsentence as Brion looked at himin cold fury. 

"I can't stop people from thinking about it--but I can stop themfrom talking. Our job is to contact the Disans and stop thissuicidal war. I have done more in one day than you all have donesince you arrived. I have accomplished this because I am better atmy work than the rest of you. That is all the information any of youare going to receive. You are dismissed. "

White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and stamped out--tospread the word about what a slave-driver the new director was. Theywould then all hate him passionately, which was just the way hewanted it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he was. And perhapsa new emotion, other than disgust and defeat, might jar them into alittle action. They certainly couldn't do any worse than they hadbeen doing. 

It was a tremendous amount of responsibility. For the first timesince setting foot on this barbaric planet Brion had time to stopand think. He was taking an awful lot upon himself. He knew nothingabout this world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict. Here he sat pretending to be in charge of an organization he hadfirst heard about only a few weeks earlier. It was a frighteningsituation. Should he slide out from under?

There was just one possible answer, and that was _no_. Until hefound someone else who could do better, he seemed to be the one bestsuited for the job. And Ihjel's opinion had to count for something. Brion had felt the surety of the man's conviction that Brion wasthe only one who might possibly succeed in this difficult spot. 

Let it go at that. If he had any qualms it would be best to put thembehind him. Aside from everything else, there was a primary bit ofloyalty involved. Ihjel had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe itwas a provincial attitude to hold in this big universe--Anvhar wascertainly far enough away from here--but honor is very important toa man who must stand alone. He had a debt to Ihjel, and he was goingto pay it off. 

Once the decision had been made, he felt easier. There was anintercom on the desk in front of him and he leaned with a heavythumb on the button labeled _Faussel_. 

"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice was cold withill-concealed hatred. 

"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director ever return fromseeing him?"

"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord. Lig-magte is thelocal overlord. He has an ugly stoneheap of a building just outsidethe city. He seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter thatare pushing this idiotic war. As to your second question, I have toanswer yes and no. We found Director Mervv's head outside the doornext morning with all the skin gone. We knew who it was because thedoctor identified the bridgework in his mouth. _Do you understand?_"

All pretense of control had vanished, and Faussel almost shriekedthe last words. They were all close to cracking up, if he was anyexample. Brion broke in quickly. 

"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the doctor that I wouldlike to see him as soon as I can. " He broke the connection andopened the first of the folders. By the time the doctor called hehad skimmed the reports and was reading the relevant ones in greaterdetail. Putting on his warm coat, he went through the outer office. The few workers still on duty turned their backs in frigid silence. 

Doctor Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that rose above a thickblack beard. Brion had liked him at once. Anyone with enoughfirmness of mind to keep a beard in this climate was a pleasantexception after what he had met so far. 

"How's the new patient, Doctor?"

Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before answering. "Diagnosis: heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete recovery. Conditionfair, considering the dehydration and extensive sunburn. I'vetreated the burns, and a saline drip is taking care of the other. She just missed going into heat-shock. I have her under sedationnow. "

"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow morning. Could shedo this--with stimulants or drugs?"

"She could--but I don't like it. There might be side factors, perhaps long-standing debilitation. It's a chance. "

"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy hours thisplanet is due for destruction. In attempting to avert that tragedyI'm expendable, as is everyone else here. Agreed?"

The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked Brion's immenseframe up and down. "Agreed, " he said, almost happily. "It is adistinct pleasure to see something beside black defeat around here. I'll go along with you. "

"Well, you can help me right now. I checked the personnel roster anddiscovered that out of the twenty-eight people working here thereisn't a physical scientist of any kind--other than yourself. "

"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians. Not worth adamn for field work, the whole bunch of them!" The doctor toed thefloor switch on a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling. 

"Then I'm going to depend on you for some straight answers, " Brionsaid. "This is an un-standard operation, and the standard techniquesjust don't begin to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions andPareto Extrapolations don't apply here. " Stine nodded agreement andBrion relaxed a bit. He had just relieved himself of his entireknowledge of societics, and it had sounded authentic. "The more Ilook at it the more I believe that this is a physical problem, something to do with the exotic and massive adjustments the Disanshave made to this hellish environment. Could this tie up in any waywith their absolutely suicidal attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"

"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor rapidly on hisstocky legs, twining his fingers behind his back. "You are bloodywell right it could. Someone is thinking at last and not justpunching bloody numbers into a machine and sitting and scratchinghis behind while waiting for the screen to light up with theanswers. Do you know how Disans exist?" Brion shook his head. "Thefools here think it disgusting but I call it fascinating. They havefound ways to join a symbiotic relationship with the life forms onthis planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You must realize thatliving organisms will do anything to survive. Castaways at sea willdrink their own urine in their need for water. Disgust at this isonly the attitude of the overprotected who have never experiencedextreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis you have a planet ofcastaways. "

Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk of thirst makes medry. " With economically efficient motions he poured grain alcoholinto a beaker, thinned it with distilled water and flavored it withsome crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brionone. It didn't taste bad at all. 

"What do you mean by parasitic, Doctor? Aren't we all parasites ofthe lower life forms? Meat animals, vegetables and such?"

"No, no--you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in the exactmeaning of the word. You must realize that to a biologist there isno real difference between parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism, biontergasy, commensalism--"

"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless sounds to me. If that is what makes this planet tick I'm beginning to see why therest of the staff has that lost feeling. "

"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing. Look. You havea kind of crustacean living in the lakes here, very much like anordinary crab. It has large claws in which it holds anemones, tentacled sea animals with no power of motion. The crustacean wavesthese around to gather food, and eats the pieces they capture thatare too big for them. This is biontergasy, two creatures living andworking together, yet each capable of existing alone. 

"Now, this same crustacean has a parasite living under its shell, adegenerated form of a snail that has lost all powers of movement. Atrue parasite that takes food from its host's body and gives nothingin return. Inside this snail's gut there is a protozoan that livesoff the snail's ingested food. Yet this little organism is not aparasite, as you might think at first, but a symbiote. It takes foodfrom the snail, but at the same time it secretes a chemical thataids the snail's digestion of the food. Do you get the picture?All these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence. "

Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the drink. "It's makingsome kind of sense now. Symbiosis, parasitism and all the rest arejust ways of describing variations of the same basic process ofliving together. And there is probably a grading and shading betweensome of these that make the exact relationship hard to define. "

"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world that thecompeting forms have almost died out. There are still a few left, preying off the others. It was the cooperating and interdependentlife forms that really won out in the race for survival. I say lifeforms with intent. The creatures here are mostly a mixture of plantand animal, like the lichens you have elsewhere. The Disans have acreature they call a "vaede" that they use for water when traveling. It has rudimentary powers of motion from its animal part, yet usesphotosynthesis and stores water like a plant. When the Disans drinkfrom it the thing taps their blood streams for food elements. "

"I know, " Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You can see my scars. I'm beginning to comprehend how the Disans fit into the physicalpattern of their world, and I realize it must have all kinds ofpsychological effects on them. Do you think this has any effect ontheir social organization?"

"An important one. But maybe I'm making too many suppositions now. Perhaps your researchers upstairs can tell you better; after all, this is their field. "

Brion had studied the reports on the social setup and not one wordof them made sense. They were a solid maze of unknown symbols andcryptic charts. "Please continue, Doctor, " he insisted. "Thesocietics reports are valueless so far. There are factors missing. You are the only one I have talked to so far who can give me anyintelligent reports or answers. "

"All right then--be it on your own head. The way I see it, you'vegot no society here at all, just a bunch of rugged individualists. Each one for himself, getting nourishment from the other life formsof the planet. If they have a society, it is orientated towards therest of the planetary life--instead of towards other human beings. Perhaps that's why your figures don't make sense. They are set upfor the human societies. In their relations with each other, thesepeople are completely different. "

"What about the magter, the upper-class types who build castles andare causing all this trouble?"

"I have no explanation, " Dr. Stine admitted. "My theories hold waterand seem logical enough up to this point. But the magter are theexception, and I have no idea why. They are completely differentfrom the rest of the Disans. Argumentative, blood-thirsty, lookingfor planetary conquest instead of peace. They aren't rulers, not inthe real sense. They hold power because nobody else wants it. Theygrant mining concessions to offworlders because they are the onlyones with a sense of property. Maybe I'm going out on a limb. Butif you can find out _why_ they are so different you may be ontothe clue to our difficulties. "

For the first time since his arrival Brion began to feel a touch ofenthusiasm. Plus a sense of the remote possibility that there mighteven be a solution to the deadly problem. He drained his glass andstood up. 

"I hope you'll wake your patient early, Doctor. You might be asinterested in talking to her as I am. If what you told me is true, she could well be our key to the answer. She is Professor LeaMorees, and she is just out from Earth with degrees in exobiologyand anthropology, and has a head stuffed with vital facts. "

"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the head, not onlybecause it is so pretty but because of its knowledge. Though wetotter on the edge of atomic destruction I have a strange feelingof optimism--for the first time since I landed on this planet. "

IX

The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation buildingjumped at the thunderous noise and reached for his gun. He droppedhis hand sheepishly when he realized it was only a sneeze--though agargantuan one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling down into hiscoat. "I'm going out before I catch pneumonia, " he said. The guardsaluted dumbly, and after checking his proximity detector screens heslipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut behind him. The streetwas still warm from the heat of the day and he sighed happily andopened his coat. 

This was partly a reconnaissance trip--and partly a way of gettingwarmed up. There was little else he could do in the building; thestaff had long since retired. He had slept for a half an hour, andhad waked refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports he couldunderstand had been read and reread until they were memorized. Hecould use the time now, while the rest of them were asleep, to getbetter acquainted with the main city of Dis. 

As he walked the dark streets he realized how alien the Disan way oflife was to everything he knew. This city--Hovedstad--literallymeant "main place" in the native language. And that's all it was. Itwas only the presence of the offworlders that made it into a city. Building after building, standing deserted, bore the names of miningcompanies, traders, space transporters. None of them was occupiednow. Some still had lights burning, switched on by automaticapparatus, others were as dark as the Disan structures. Thereweren't many of these native constructions and they seemed out ofplace among the rammed earth and prefab offworld buildings. Brionexamined one that was dimly illuminated by the light on the cornerof VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD. 

It consisted of a single large room, resting right on the ground. There were no windows, and the whole thing appeared to have beenconstructed of some sort of woven material plastered with stone-hardmud. Nothing was blocking the door and he was thinking seriously ofgoing in when he became aware that he was being followed. 

It was only a slight noise, almost lost in the night. Normally itwould never have been noticed, but tonight Brion was listening withhis entire body. Someone was behind him, swallowed up in the poolsof darkness. Brion shrank back against the wall. There was verylittle chance this could be anyone but a Disan. He had a suddenmemory of Mervv's severed head as it had been discovered outside thedoor. 

Ihjel had helped him train his empathetic sense and he reached outwith it. It was difficult working in the dark; he could be sure ofnothing. Was he getting a reaction--or just wishing for one? Why didit have a ring of familiarity to it? A sudden idea struck him. 

"Ulv, " he said, very softly. "This is Brion. " He crouched, readyfor any attack. 

"I know, " a voice said softly in the night. "Do not talk. Walkin the direction you were going before. "

Asking questions now would accomplish nothing. Brion turnedinstantly and did as he was bidden. The buildings grew further apartuntil he realized from the sand underfoot that he was back in theplanet-wide desert. It could be a trap--he hadn't recognized thevoice behind the whisper--yet he had to take this chance. A darkershape appeared in the dark night near him, and a burning hot handtouched his arm lightly. 

"I will walk ahead. Follow close behind me. " The words were louderand this time Brion recognized the voice. 

Without waiting for an answer, Ulv turned and his dimly seen shapevanished into the darkness. Brion moved swiftly after him, untilthey walked side by side over the rolling hills of sand. The sandmerged into hard-baked ground, became cracked and scarred withrock-filled gulleys. They followed a deepening gulley that grew intoa good-sized ravine. When they turned an angle of the ravine Brionsaw a weak yellow light coming from an opening in the hard dirtwall. 

Ulv dropped on all fours and vanished through the shoulder-widehole. Brion followed him, trying to ignore the growing tension andunease he felt. Crawling like this, head down, he was terriblyvulnerable. He tried to shrug off the feeling, mentally blaming iton tense nerves. 

The tunnel was short and opened into a larger chamber. A suddenscuffle of feet sounded at the same instant that a wave ofempathetic hatred struck him. It took vital seconds to fight his wayout of the trapping tunnel, to roll clear and bring his gun up. During those seconds he should have died. The Disan poised above himhad the short-handled stone hammer raised to strike a skull-crushingblow. 

Ulv was clutching the man's wrist, fighting silently to keep thehammer from falling. Neither combatant said a word, the rasp oftheir calloused feet on the sand the only sound. Brion backed awayfrom the struggling men, his gun centered on the stranger. The Disanfollowed him with burning eyes, and dropped the hammer as soon as itwas obvious the attack had failed. 

"Why did you bring him here?" he growled at Ulv. "Why didn't youkill him?"

"He is here so we can listen to what he says, Gebk. He is the oneI told you of, that I found in the desert. "

"We listen to what he says and then we kill him, " Gebk said with amirthless grin. The remark wasn't meant to be humorous, but was madein all seriousness. Brion recognized this and knew that there was nodanger for the present moment. He slid the gun away, and for thefirst time looked around the chamber. 

It was domed in shape and was still hot from the heat of the day. Ulv took off the length of cloth he had wrapped around his bodyagainst the chill, and refolded it as a kilt, strapping it on underhis belt artifacts. He grunted something unintelligible and whena muttered answer came, Brion for the first time became aware ofthe woman and the child. 

The two sat against the far wall, squatting on either side of a heapof fibrous plants. Both were nude, clothed only in the matted hairthat fell below their shoulders. The belt of strange tools could notbe classified as clothing. Even the child wore a tiny replica of hermother's. Putting down a length of plant she had been chewing, thewoman shuffled over to the tiny fire that illuminated the room. Aclay pot stood over it, and from this she ladled three bowls of foodfor the men. It smelled atrocious, and Brion tried not to taste orsmell the sickening mixture while he ate it. He used his fingers, asdid the other men, and did not talk while he ate. There was no wayto tell if the silence was ritual or habit. It gave him a chance fora closer look at the Disan way of living. 

The cave was obviously hand-made; tool marks could be clearly seenin the hard clay of the walls, except in the portion opposite theentrance. This was covered with a network of roots, rising out ofthe floor and vanishing into the roof of earth above. Perhaps thiswas the reason for the cave's existence. The thin roots had beencarefully twisted and plaited together until they formed a singleswollen root in the center, as thick as a man's arm. From this hungfour of the vaedes: Ulv had placed his there before he sat down. Theteeth must have instantly sunk in, for it hung unsupported--anotherlink in the Disan life cycle. This appeared to be the source of thevaede's water that nourished the people. 

Brion was aware of eyes upon him and turned and smiled at the littlegirl. She couldn't have been over six years old, but she was alreadya Disan in every way. She neither returned his smile nor changed herexpression, unchildlike in its stolidity. Her hands and jaw neverstopped as she worked on the lengths of fibrous plant her mother hadplaced before her. The child split them with a small tool andremoved a pod of some kind. This was peeled--partially by scrapingwith a different tool, and partially by working between her teeth. It took long minutes to remove the tough rind; the results seemedscarcely worth it. A tiny wriggling object was finally disclosedwhich the girl instantly swallowed. She then began working on thenext pod. 

Ulv put down his clay bowl and belched. "I brought you to the cityas I told you I would, " he said. "Have you done as you said youwould?"

"What did he promise?" Gebk asked. 

"That he would stop the war. Have you stopped it?"

"I am trying to stop it, " Brion said. "But it is not that easy. I'll need some help. It is your life that needs saving--yours andyour families'. If you would help me--"

"What is the truth?" Ulv broke in savagely. "All I hear isdifference, and there is no longer any way to tell truth. For aslong as always we have done as the magter say. We bring them foodand they give us the metal and sometimes water when we need it. Aslong as we do as they ask they do not kill us. They live the wrongway, but I have had bronze from them for my tools. They have told usthat they are getting a world for us from the sky people, and thatis good. "

"It has always been known that the sky people are evil in every way, and only good can come from killing them, " Gebk said. 

Brion stared back at the two Disans and their obvious hatred. "Thenwhy didn't you kill me, Ulv?" he asked. "That first time in thedesert, or tonight when you stopped Gebk?"

"I could have. But there was something more important. What is the truth?Can we believe as we have always done? Or should we listen to this?"

He threw a small sheet of plastic to Brion, no bigger than the palmof his hand. A metal button was fastened to one corner of the wafer, and a simple drawing was imbedded in the wafer. Brion held it to thelight and saw a picture of a man's hand squeezing the button betweenthumb and forefinger. It was a subminiaturized playback; mechanicalpressure on the case provided enough current to play the recordedmessage. The plastic sheet vibrated, acting as a loudspeaker. 

Though the voice was thin and scratchy, the words were clearlyaudible. It was an appeal for the Disan people not to listen to themagter. It explained that the magter had started a war that couldhave only one ending--the destruction of Dis. Only if the magterwere thrown down and their weapons discovered could there be anyhope. 

"Are these words true?" Ulv asked. 

"Yes, " Brion said. 

"They are perhaps true, " Gebk said, "but there is nothing that wecan do. I was with my brother when these word-things fell out of thesky and he listened to one and took it to the magter to ask them. They killed him, as he should have known they would do. The magterkill us if they know we listen to the words. "

"And the words tell us we will die if we listen to the magter!" Ulvshouted, his voice cracking. Not with fear, but with frustration atthe attempt to reconcile two opposite points of view. Up until thistime his world had consisted of black and white values, with veryfew shadings of difference in between. 

"There are things you can do that will stop the war without hurtingyourself or the magter, " Brion said, searching for a way to enlisttheir aid. 

"Tell us, " Ulv grunted. 

"There would be no war if the magter could be contacted, made tolisten to reason. They are killing you all. You could tell me howto talk to the magter, how I could understand them--"

"No one can talk to the magter, " the woman broke in. "If you saysomething different they will kill you as they killed Gebk'sbrother. So they are easy to understand. That is the way they are. They do not change. " She put the length of plant she had beensoftening for the child back into her mouth. Her lips were deeplygrooved and scarred from a lifetime of this work, her teeth at thesides worn almost to the bone. 

"Mor is right, " Ulv said. "You do not talk to magter. What else isthere to do?"

Brion looked at the two men before he spoke, and shifted his weight. The motion brought his fingertips just a few inches from his gun. "The magter have bombs that will destroy Nyjord--this is the nextplanet, a star in your sky. If I can find where the bombs are, Iwill have them taken away and there will be no war. "

"You want to aid the devils in the sky against our own people!"Gebk shouted, half rising. Ulv pulled him back to the ground, but there was no more warmth in his voice as he spoke. 

"You are asking too much. You will leave now. "

"Will you help me, though? Will you help stop the war?" Brion asked, aware he had gone too far, but unable to stop. Their anger wasmaking them forget the reasons for his being there. 

"You ask too much, " Ulv said again. "Go back now. We will talk about it. "

"Will I see you again? How can I reach you?"

"We will find you if we wish to talk to you, " was all Ulv said. Ifthey decided he was lying he would never see them again. There wasnothing he could do about it. 

"I have made up my mind, " Gebk said, rising to his feet and drawinghis cloth up until it covered his shoulders. "You are lying and thisis all a lie of the sky people. If I see you again I will kill you. "He stepped to the tunnel and was gone. 

There was nothing more to be said. Brion went out next--checkingcarefully to be sure that Gebk really had left--and Ulv guided himto the spot where the lights of Hovedstad were visible. He did notspeak during their return journey and vanished without a word. Brionshivered in the night chill of the air and wrapped his coat moretightly around himself. Depressed, he walked back towards the warmerstreets of the city. 

It was dawn when he reached the Foundation building; a new guardwas at the front entrance. No amount of hammering or threats couldconvince the man to open until Faussel came down, yawning andblinking with sleep. He was starting some complaint when Brion cuthim off curtly and ordered him to finish dressing and report forwork at once. Still feeling elated, Brion hurried into his officeand cursed the overly efficient character who had turned on his airconditioner to chill the room again. When he turned it off this timehe removed enough vital parts to keep it out of order for theduration. 

When Faussel came in he was still yawning behind his fist--obviouslya low morning-sugar type. "Before you fall on your face, go out andget some coffee, " Brion said. "Two cups. I'll have a cup too. "

"That won't be necessary, " Faussel said, drawing himself up stiffly. "I'll call the canteen if you wish some. " He said it in the iciesttone he could manage this early in the morning. 

In his enthusiasm Brion had forgotten the hate campaign he haddirected against himself. "Suit yourself, " he said shortly, gettingback into the role. "But the next time you yawn there'll be anegative entry in your service record. If that's clear--you canbrief me on this organization's visible relations with the Disans. How do they take us?"

Faussel choked and swallowed a yawn. "I believe they look on theC. R. F. People as some species of simpleton, sir. They hate alloffworlders; memory of their desertion has been passed on verballyfor generations. So by their one-to-one logic we should either hateback or go away. We stay instead. And give them food, water, medicine and artifacts. Because of this they let us remain onsufferance. I imagine they consider us do-gooder idiots, and as longas we cause no trouble they'll let us stay. " He was strugglingmiserably to suppress a yawn, so Brion turned his back and gave hima chance to get it out. 

"What about the Nyjorders? How much do they know of our work?" Brionlooked out the window at dusty buildings, outlined in purple againstthe violent colors of the desert sunrise. 

"Nyjord is a cooperating planet, and has full knowledge at allexecutive levels. They are giving us all the aid they can. "

"Well, now is the time to ask for more. Can I contact the commanderof the blockading fleet?"

"There is a scrambler connection right through to him. I'll set itup. " Faussel bent over the desk and punched a number into the phonecontrols. The screen flowed with the black and white patterns of thescrambler. 

"That's all, Faussel, " Brion said. "I want privacy for this talk. What's the commander's name?"

"Professor Krafft--he's a physicist. They have no military men atall, so they called him in for the construction of the bombs andenergy weapons. He's still in charge. " Faussel yawned extravagantlyas he went out the door. 

The Professor-Commander was very old, with wispy grey hair anda network of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. His image shimmered, then cleared as the scrambler units aligned. 

"You must be Brion Brandd, " he said. "I have to tell you how sorrywe all are that your friend Ihjel and the two others--had to die, after coming so far to help us. I'm sure you are very happy to havehad a friend like that. "

"Why . .. Yes, of course, " Brion said, reaching for the scatteredfragments of his thought processes. It took an effort to rememberthe first conflict, now that he was worrying about the death of aplanet. "It's very kind of you to mention it. But I would like tofind out a few things from you, if I could. "

"Anything at all; we are at your disposal. Before we begin, though, I shall pass on the thanks of our council for your aid in joiningus. Even if we are eventually forced to drop the bombs, we shallnever forget that your organization did everything possible toavert the disaster. "

Once again Brion was caught off balance. For an instant he wonderedif Krafft was being insincere, then recognized the baseness of thisthought. The completeness of the man's humanity was obvious andcompelling. The thought passed through Brion's mind that now he hadan additional reason for wanting the war ended without destructionon either side. He very much wanted to visit Nyjord and see thesepeople on their home grounds. 

Professor Krafft waited, patiently and silently, while Brion pulledhis thoughts together and answered. "I still hope that this thingcan be stopped in time. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to see Lig-magte and I thought it would be better if I hada legitimate reason. Are you in contact with him?"

Krafft shook his head. "No, not really in contact. When this troublestarted I sent him a transceiver so we could talk directly. But hehas delivered his ultimatum, speaking for the magter. The only termshe will hear are unconditional surrender. His receiver is on, buthe has said that is the only message he will answer. "

"Not much chance of him ever being told that, " Brion said. 

"There was--at one time. I hope you realize, Brion, that thedecision to bomb Dis was not easily arrived at. A great manypeople--myself included--voted for unconditional surrender. We lost the vote by a very small margin. "

Brion was getting used to these philosophical body blows and herolled with the punches now. "Are there any of your people left onthis planet? Or do you have any troops I can call on for help? Thisis still a remote possibility, but if I do find out where the bombsor the launchers are, a surprise raid would knock them out. "

"We have no people left in Hovedstad now--all the ones who weren'tevacuated were killed. But there are commando teams standing by hereto make a landing if the weapons are detected. The Disans mustdepend on secrecy to protect their armament, since we have boththe manpower and the technology to reach any objective. We alsohave technicians and other volunteers looking for the weapon sites. They have not been successful as yet, and most of them were killedsoon after landing. "

Krafft hesitated for a moment. "There is another group you shouldknow about; you will need all the factors. Some of our people are inthe desert outside of Hovedstad. We do not officially approve ofthem, though they have a good deal of popular support. They aremostly young men, operating as raiders, killing and destroying withvery little compunction. They are attempting to uncover the weaponsby sheer strength of arms. "

This was the best news yet. Brion controlled his voice and kept hisexpression calm when he spoke. "I don't know how far I can stretchyour cooperation--but could you possibly tell me how to get in touchwith them?"

Kraft allowed himself a small smile. "I'll give you the wave lengthon which you can reach their radio. They call themselves the 'Nyjordarmy. ' When you talk to them you can do me a favor. Pass on amessage. Just to prove things aren't bad enough, they've becomea little worse. One of our technical crews has detected jump-spaceenergy transmissions in the planetary crust. The Disans areapparently testing their projector, sooner than we had estimated. Our deadline has been revised by one day. I'm afraid there are onlytwo days left before you must evacuate. " His eyes were large withcompassion. "I'm sorry. I know this will make your job that muchharder. "

Brion didn't want to think about the loss of a full day from hisalready close deadline. "Have you told the Disans this yet?"

"No, " Krafft told him. "The decision was reached a few minutesbefore your call. It is going on the radio to Lig-magte now. "

"Can you cancel the transmission and let me take the message inperson?"

"I can do that. " Krafft thought for a moment. "But it would surelymean your death at their hands. They have no hesitation in killingany of our people. I would prefer to send it by radio. "

"If you do that you will be interfering with my plans, and perhapsdestroying them under the guise of saving my life. Isn't my lifemy own--to dispose of as I will?"

For the first time Professor Krafft was upset. "I'm sorry, terriblysorry. I'm letting my concern and worry wash over into my publicaffairs. Of course you may do as you please; I could never think ofstopping you. " He turned and said something inaudible offscreen. "The call is cancelled. The responsibility is yours. All our wishesfor success go with you. End of transmission. "

"End of transmission, " Brion said, and the screen went dark. 

"Faussel!" he shouted into the intercom. "Get me the best andfastest sand car we have, a driver who knows his way around, and twomen who can handle a gun and know how to take orders. We're going toget some positive action at last. "

X

"It's suicide, " the taller guard grumbled. 

"Mine, not yours, so don't worry about it, " Brion barked at him. "Your job is to remember your orders and keep them straight. Now--let's hear them again. "

The guard rolled his eyes up in silent rebellion and repeated in atoneless voice: "We stay here in the car and keep the motor runningwhile you go inside the stone pile there. We don't let anybody inthe car and we try and keep them clear of the car--short of shootingthem, that is. We don't come in, no matter what happens or what itlooks like, but wait for you here. Unless you call on the radio, inwhich case we come in with the automatics going and shoot the placeup, and it doesn't matter who we hit. This will be done only asa last resort. "

"See if you can't arrange that last resort thing, " the other guardsaid, patting the heavy blue barrel of his weapon. 

"I meant that _last_ resort, " Brion said angrily. "If any guns gooff without my permission you will pay for it, and pay with yournecks. I want that clearly understood. You are here as a rear guardand a base for me to get back to. This is my operation and minealone--unless I call you in. Understood?"

He waited until all three men had nodded in agreement, then checkedthe charge on his gun--it was fully loaded. It would be foolish togo in unarmed, but he had to. One gun wouldn't save him. He put itaside. The button radio on his collar was working and had a strongenough signal to get through any number of walls. He took off hiscoat, threw open the door and stepped out into the searingbrilliance of the Disan noon. 

There was only the desert silence, broken by the steady throb ofthe car's motor behind him. Stretching away to the horizon in everydirection was the eternal desert of sand. The keep stood nearby, solitary, a massive pile of black rock. Brion plodded closer, watching for any motion from the walls. Nothing stirred. Thehigh-walled, irregularly shaped construction sat in a ponderoussilence. Brion was sweating now, only partially from the heat. 

He circled the thing, looking for a gate. There wasn't one at groundlevel. A slanting cleft in the stone could be climbed easily, but itseemed incredible that this might be the only entrance. A completecircuit proved that it was. Brion looked unhappily at the slantingand broken ramp, then cupped his hands and shouted loudly. 

"I'm coming up. Your radio doesn't work any more. I'm bringing themessage from Nyjord that you have been waiting to hear. " This wasa slight bending of the truth without fracturing it. There was noanswer--just the hiss of wind-blown sand against the rock and themutter of the car in the background. He started to climb. 

The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to watch where he puthis feet. At the same time he fought a constant impulse to look up, watching for anything falling from above. Nothing happened. When hereached the top of the wall he was breathing hard; sweat moistenedhis body. There was still no one in sight. He stood on an unevenlyshaped wall that appeared to circle the building. Instead of havinga courtyard inside it, the wall was the outer face of the structure, the domed roof rising from it. At varying intervals dark openingsgave access to the interior. When Brion looked down, the sand carwas just a dun-colored bump in the desert, already far behind him. 

Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There was still no onein sight. The room inside was something out of a madman's funhouse. It was higher than it was wide, irregular in shape, and more like ahallway than a room. At one end it merged into an incline thatbecame a stairwell. At the other it ended in a hole that vanishedin darkness below. Light of sorts filtered in through slots andholes drilled into the thick stone wall. Everything was built of thesame crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took the stairs. Aftera number of blind passages and wrong turns he saw a stronger lightahead, and went on. There was food, metal, even artifacts of theunusual Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yetno people. The light ahead grew stronger, and the last passagewayopened and swelled out until it led into the large central chamber. 

This was the heart of the strange structure. All the rooms, passageways and halls existed just to give form to this giganticchamber. The walls rose sharply, the room being circular in crosssection and growing narrower towards the top. It was a truncatedcone, since there was no ceiling; a hot blue disk of sky cast lighton the floor below. 

On the floor stood a knot of men who stared at Brion. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very periphery of hisconsciousness, he was aware of the rest of the room--barrels, stores, machinery, a radio transceiver, various bundles and heapsthat made no sense at first glance. There was no time to lookcloser. Every fraction of his attention was focused on the muffledand hooded men. 

He had found the enemy. 

Everything that had happened to him so far on Dis had beenpreparation for this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape, the dreadful heat of sun and sand. All this had tempered andprepared him. It had been nothing in itself. Now the battle wouldbegin in earnest. 

None of this was conscious in his mind. His fighter's reflexes benthis shoulders, curved his hands before him as he walked softly inbalance, ready to spring in any direction. Yet none of this wasreally necessary. All the danger so far was nonphysical. When he didgive conscious thought to the situation he stopped, startled. Whatwas wrong here? None of the men had moved or made a sound. How couldhe even know they were men? They were so muffled and wrapped incloth that only their eyes were exposed. 

No doubt, however, existed in Brion's mind. In spite of muffledcloth and silence, he knew them for what they were. The eyes wereempty of expression and unmoving, yet were filled with the samenegative emptiness as those of a bird of prey. They could look onlife, death, and the rending of flesh with the same lack of interestand compassion. All this Brion knew in an instant of time, withoutwords being spoken. Between the time he lifted one foot and walked astep he understood what he had to face. There could be no doubt, notto an empathetic. 

From the group of silent men poured a frost-white wave of unemotion. An empathetic shares what other men feel. He gets his knowledge oftheir reaction by sensing lightly their emotions, the surges ofinterest, hate, love, fear, desire, the sweep of large and smallsensations that accompany all thought and action. The empatheticis always aware of this constant and silent surge, whether he makesthe effort to understand it or not. He is like a man glancing acrossthe open pages of a tableful of books. He can see that the type, words, paragraphs, thoughts are there, even without focusing his attentionto understand any of it. 

Then how does the man feel when he glances at the open books andsees only blank pages? The books are there--the words are not. Heturns the pages of one, of the others, flipping the pages, searchingfor meaning. There is no meaning. All of the pages are blank. 

This was the way in which the magter were blank, without emotions. There was a barely sensed surge and return that must have beenneural impulses on a basic level--the automatic adjustments of nerveand muscle that keep an organism alive. Nothing more. Brion reachedfor other sensations, but there was nothing there to grasp. Eitherthese men were without emotions, or they were able to block themfrom his detection; it was impossible to tell which. 

Very little time had passed while Brion made these discoveries. Theknot of men still looked at him, silent and unmoving. They weren'texpectant, their attitude could not have been called one ofinterest. But he had come to them and now they waited to find outwhy. Any questions or statements they spoke would be superfluous, so they didn't speak. The responsibility was his. 

"I have come to talk with Lig-magte. Who is he?" Brion didn't likethe tiny sound his voice made in the immense room. 

One of the men gave a slight motion to draw attention to himself. None of the others moved. They still waited. 

"I have a message for you, " Brion said, speaking slowly to fill thesilence of the room and the emptiness of his thoughts. This had tobe handled right. But what was right? "I'm from the Foundation inthe city, as you undoubtedly know. I've been talking to the peopleof Nyjord. They have a message for you. "

The silence grew longer. Brion had no intention of making this amonologue. He needed facts to operate, to form an opinion. Lookingat the silent forms was telling him nothing. Time stretched taut, and finally Lig-magte spoke. 

"The Nyjorders are going to surrender. "

It was an impossibly strange sentence. Brion had never realizedbefore how much of the content of speech was made up of emotion. If the man had given it a positive emphasis, perhaps said it withenthusiasm, it would have meant, "Success! The enemy is going tosurrender!" This wasn't the meaning. 

With a rising inflection on the end it would have been a question. "Are they going to surrender?" It was neither of these. The sentencecarried no other message than that contained in the simplestmeanings of the separate words. It had intellectual connotations, but these could only be gained from past knowledge, not from thesound of the words. There was only one message they were preparedto receive from Nyjord. Therefore Brion was bringing the message. If that was not the message Brion was bringing the men here werenot interested. 

This was the vital fact. If they were not interested he could haveno further value to them. Since he came from the enemy, he was theenemy. Therefore he would be killed. Because this was vital to hisexistence, Brion took the time to follow the thought through. Itmade logical sense--and logic was all he could depend on now. Hecould be talking to robots or alien creatures, for all the humanresponse he was receiving. 

"You can't win this war--all you can do is hurry your own deaths. "He said this with as much conviction as he could, realizing at thesame time that it was wasted effort. No flicker of response stirredin the men before him. "The Nyjorders know you have the cobaltbombs, and they have detected your jump-space projector. They can'ttake any more chances. They have pushed the deadline closer by anentire day. There are one and a half days left before the bombs falland you are all destroyed. Do you realize what that means--"

"Is that the message?" Lig-magte asked. 

"Yes, " Brion said. 

Two things saved his life then. He had guessed what would happen assoon as they had his message, though he hadn't been sure. But eventhe suspicion had put him on his guard. This, combined with thereflexes of a Winner of the Twenties, was barely enough to enablehim to survive. 

From frozen mobility Lig-magte had catapulted into headlong attack. As he leaped forward he drew a curved, double-edged blade from underhis robes. It plunged unerringly through the spot where Brion's bodyhad been an instant before. 

There had been no time to tense his muscles and jump, just the spaceof time to relax them and fall to one side. His reasoning mindjoined the battle as he hit the floor. Lig-magte plunged by him, turning and bringing the knife down at the same time. Brion's footlashed out and caught the other man's leg, sending him sprawling. 

They were both on their feet at the same instant, facing each other. Brion now had his hands clasped before him in the unarmed man'sbest defense against a knife, the two arms protecting the body, the two hands joined to beat aside the knife arm from whicheverdirection it came. The Disan hunched low, flipped the knife quicklyfrom hand to hand, then thrust it again at Brion's midriff. 

Only by the merest fractional margin did Brion evade the attack forthe second time. Lig-magte fought with utter violence. Every actionwas as intense as possible, deadly and thorough. There could be onlyone end to this unequal contest if Brion stayed on the defensive. The man with the knife had to win. 

With the next charge Brion changed tactics. He leaped inside thethrust, clutching for the knife arm. A burning slice of pain cutacross his arm, then his fingers clutched the tendoned wrist. Theyclamped down hard, grinding shut, compressing with the tighteningintensity of a closing vise. 

It was all he could do simply to hold on. There was no science init, just his greater strength from exercise and existence on aheavier planet. All of this strength went to his clutching hand, because he held his own life in that hand, forcing away the knifethat wanted to terminate it forever. Nothing else mattered--neitherthe frightening force of the knees that thudded into his body northe hooked fingers that reached for his eyes to tear them out. Heprotected his face as well as he could, while the nails tore furrowsthrough his flesh and the cut on his arm bled freely. These wereonly minor things to be endured. His life depended on the grasp ofthe fingers of his right hand. 

There was a sudden immobility as Brion succeeded in clutchingLig-magte's other arm. It was a good grip, and he could hold the armimmobilized. They had reached stasis, standing knee to knee, theirfaces only a few inches apart. The muffling cloth had fallen fromthe Disan's face during the struggle, and empty, frigid eyes staredinto Brion's. No flicker of emotion crossed the harsh planes of theother man's face. A great puckered white scar covered one cheek andpulled up a corner of the mouth in a cheerless grimace. It wasfalse; there was still no expression here, even when the pain mustbe growing more intense. 

Brion was winning--if none of the watchers broke the impasse. His greater weight and strength counted now. The Disan would haveto drop the knife before his arm was dislocated at the shoulder. He didn't do it. With sudden horror Brion realized that he wasn'tgoing to drop it--no matter what happened. 

A dull, hideous snap jerked through the Disan's body and the armhung limp and dead. No expression crossed the man's face. The knifewas still locked in the fingers of the paralyzed hand. With hisother hand Lig-magte reached across and started to pry the bladeloose, ready to continue the battle one-handed. Brion raised hisfoot and kicked the knife free, sending it spinning across the room. 

Lig-magte made a fist of his good hand and crashed it into Brion'sgroin. He was still fighting, as if nothing had changed. Brionbacked slowly away from the man. "Stop it, " he said. "You can't winnow. It's impossible. " He called to the other men who were watchingthe unequal battle with expressionless immobility. No one answeredhim. 

With a terrible sinking sensation Brion then realized what wouldhappen and what he had to do. Lig-magte was as heedless of his ownlife as he was of the life of his planet. He would press the attackno matter what damage was done to him. Brion had an insane vision ofhim breaking the man's other arm, fracturing both his legs, and thelimbless broken creature still coming forward. Crawling, rolling, teeth bared, since they were the only remaining weapon. 

There was only one way to end it. Brion feinted and the Lig-magte'sarm moved clear of his body. The engulfing cloth was thin andthrough it Brion could see the outlines of the Disan's abdomen andrib cage, the clear location of the great nerve ganglion. 

It was the death blow of kara-te. Brion had never used it on a man. In practice he had broken heavy boards, splintering them instantlywith the short, precise stroke. The stiffened hand moving forwardin a sudden surge, all the weight and energy of his bodyconcentrated in his joined fingertips. Plunging deep into theother's flesh. 

Killing, not by accident or in sudden anger. Killing because thiswas the only way the battle could possibly end. 

Like a ruined tower of flesh, the Disan crumpled and fell. 

Dripping blood, exhausted, Brion stood over the body of Lig-magteand stared at the dead man's allies. 

Death filled the room. 

XI

Facing the silent Disans, Brion's thoughts hurtled about in sweepingcircles. There would be no more than an instant's tick of timebefore the magter avenged themselves bloodily and completely. Hefelt a fleeting regret for not having brought his gun, thenabandoned the thought. There was no time for regrets--what could hedo _now_?

The silent watchers hadn't attacked instantly, and Brion realizedthat they couldn't be positive yet that Lig-magte had been killed. Only Brion himself knew the deadliness of that blow. Their lack ofknowledge might buy him a little more time. 

"Lig-magte is unconscious, but he will revive quickly, " Brion said, pointing at the huddled body. As the eyes turned automatically tofollow his finger, he began walking slowly towards the exit. "I didnot want to do this, but he forced me to, because he wouldn't listento reason. Now I have something else to show you, something that Ihoped it would not be necessary to reveal. "

He was saying the first words that came into his head, trying tokeep them distracted as long as possible. He must appear to be onlygoing across the room, that was the feeling he must generate. Therewas even time to stop for a second and straighten his rumpledclothing and brush the sweat from his eyes. Talking easily, walkingslowly towards the hall that led out of the chamber. 

He was halfway there when the spell broke and the rush began. One ofthe magter knelt and touched the body, and shouted a single word:

"Dead!"

Brion hadn't waited for the official announcement. At the firstmovement of feet, he dived headlong for the shelter of the exit. There was a spatter of tiny missiles on the wall next to him and hehad a brief glimpse of raised blowguns before the wall intervened. He went up the dimly lit stairs three at a time. 

The pack was just behind him, voiceless and deadly. He could notgain on them--if anything, they were closing the distance as hepushed his already tired body to the utmost. There was no subtletyor trick he could use now, just straightforward flight back the wayhe had come. A single slip on the irregular steps and it would beall over. 

There was someone ahead of him. If the woman had waited a fewseconds more he would certainly have been killed; but instead ofslashing at him as he went by the doorway, she made the mistake ofrushing to the center of the stairs, the knife ready to impale himas he came up. Without slowing, Brion fell onto his hands and easilydodged under the blow. As he passed he twisted and seized her aroundthe waist, picking her from the ground. 

When her legs lifted from under her the woman screamed--the firsthuman sound Brion had heard in this human anthill. His pursuers werejust behind him, and he hurled the woman into them with all hisstrength. They fell in a tangle, and Brion used the precious secondsgained to reach the top of the building. 

There must have been other stairs and exits, because one of themagter stood between Brion and the way down out of this trap--armedand ready to kill him if he tried to pass. 

As he ran towards the executioner, Brion flicked on his collar radioand shouted into it. "I'm in trouble here. Can you--"

The guards in the car must have been waiting for this message. Before he had finished there was the thud of a high-velocity slughitting flesh and the Disan spun and fell, blood soaking hisshoulder. Brion leaped over him and headed for the ramp. 

"The next one is me--hold your fire!" he called. 

Both guards must have had their telescopic sights zeroed on thespot. They let Brion pass, then threw in a hail of semi-automaticfire that tore chunks from the stone and screamed away in noisyricochets. Brion didn't try to see if anyone was braving this hailof covering fire; he concentrated his energies on making as quickand erratic a descent as he could. Above the sounds of the firing heheard the car motor howl as it leaped forward. With their carefulaim spoiled, the gunners switched to full automatic and unleasheda hailstorm of flying metal that bracketed the top of the tower. 

"Cease . .. Firing!" Brion gasped into the radio as he ran. Thedriver was good, and timed his arrival with exactitude. The carreached the base of the tower at the same instant Brion did, and heburst through the door while it was still moving. No orders werenecessary. He fell headlong onto a seat as the car swung in adust-raising turn and ground into high gear, back to the city. 

Reaching over carefully, the tall guard gently extracted a bit ofpointed wood and fluff from a fold of Brion's pants. He cracked openthe car door, and just as delicately threw it out. 

"I knew that thing didn't touch you, " he said, "since you are stillamong the living. They've got a poison on those blowgun darts thattakes all of twelve seconds to work. Lucky. "

Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky he was to beout of the trap alive. And with information. Now that he knew moreabout the magter, he shuddered at his innocence in walking alone andunarmed into the tower. Skill had helped him survive--but betterthan average luck had been necessary. Curiosity had gotten him in, brashness and speed had taken him out. He was exhausted, batteredand bloody--but cheerfully happy. The facts about the magter werearranging themselves into a theory that might explain their attemptat racial suicide. It just needed a little time to be put intoshape. 

A pain cut across his arm and he jumped, startled, pieces of histhoughts crashing into ruin around him. The gunner had cracked thefirst-aid box and was swabbing his arm with antiseptic. The knifewound was long, but not deep. Brion shivered while the bandage wasgoing on, then quickly slipped into his coat. The air conditionerwhined industriously, bringing down the temperature. 

There was no attempt to follow the car. When the black tower haddropped over the horizon the guards relaxed, ran cleaning rodsthrough their guns and compared marksmanship. All of theirantagonism towards Brion was gone; they actually smiled at him. He had given them the first chance to shoot back since they hadbeen on this planet. 

The ride was uneventful, and Brion was scarcely aware of it. A theory was taking form in his mind. It was radical andstartling--yet it seemed to be the only one that fitted the facts. He pushed at it from all sides, but if there were any holes hecouldn't find them. What it needed was dispassionate proving ordisproving. There was only one person on Dis who was qualifiedto do this. 

Lea was working in the lab when he came in, bent over a low-powerbinocular microscope. Something small, limbless and throbbing wason the slide. She glanced up when she heard his footsteps, smilingwarmly when she recognized him. Fatigue and pain had drawn her face;her skin, glistening with burn ointment, was chapped and peeling. 

"I must look a wreck, " she said, putting the back of her hand to hercheek. "Something like a well-oiled and lightly cooked piece ofbeef. " She lowered her arm suddenly and took his hand in both ofhers. Her palms were warm and slightly moist. 

"Thank you, Brion, " was all she could say. Her society on Earth washighly civilized and sophisticated, able to discuss any topicwithout emotion and without embarrassment. This was fine in mostcircumstances, but made it difficult to thank a person for savingyour life. However you tried to phrase it, it came out sounding likea last-act speech from a historical play. There was no doubt, however, as to what she meant. Her eyes were large and dark, thepupils dilated by the drugs she had been given. They could not lie, nor could the emotions he sensed. He did not answer, just held herhand an instant longer. 

"How do you feel, " he asked, concerned. His conscience twinged ashe remembered that he was the one who had ordered her out of bedand back to work today. 

"I should be feeling terrible, " she said, with an airy wave of herhand. "But I'm walking on top of the world. I'm so loaded withpain-killers and stimulants that I'm high as the moon. All thenerves to my feet feel turned off--it's like walking on two ballsof fluff. Thanks for getting me out of that awful hospital and backto work. "

Brion was suddenly sorry for having driven her from her sick bed. 

"Don't be sorry!" Lea said, apparently reading his mind, but reallyseeing only his sudden ashamed expression. "I'm feeling no pain. Honestly. I feel a little light-headed and foggy at times, nothingmore. And this is the job I came here to do. In fact . .. Well, it'salmost impossible to tell you just how fascinating it all is! It wasalmost worth getting baked and parboiled for. "

She swung back to the microscope, centering the specimen with a turnof the stage adjustment screw. "Poor Ihjel was right when he saidthis planet was exobiologically fascinating. This is a gastropod, a lot like _Odostomia_, but it has parasitical morphological changesso profound that--"

"There's something else I remember, " Brion said, interrupting herenthusiastic lecture, only half of which he could understand. "Didn't Ihjel also hope that you would give some study to thenatives as well as their environment? The problem is with theDisans--not with the local wild life. "

"But I _am_ studying them, " Lea insisted. "The Disans have attainedan incredibly advanced form of commensalism. Their lives are sointimately connected and integrated with the other life forms thatthey must be studied in relation to their environment. I doubt ifthey show as many external physical changes as little eating-foot_Odostomia_ on the slide here, but there will surely be a number ofpsychological changes and adjustments that will crop up. One ofthese might be the explanation of their urge for planetarysuicide. "

"That may be true--but I don't think so, " Brion said. "I went ona little expedition this morning and found something that has moreimmediate relevancy. "

For the first time Lea became aware of his slightly batteredcondition. Her drug-grooved mind could only follow a single idea ata time and had over-looked the significance of the bandage and dirt. 

"I've been visiting, " Brion said, forestalling the question on herlips. "The magter are the ones who are responsible for causing thetrouble, and I had to see them up close before I could make anydecisions. It wasn't a very pleasant thing, but I found out whatI wanted to know. They are different in every way from the normalDisans. I've compared them. I've talked to Ulv--the native who savedus in the desert--and I can understand him. He is not like us inmany ways--he certainly couldn't be, living in this oven--but he isstill undeniably human. He gave us drinking water when we needed it, then brought help. The magter, the upper-class lords of Dis, arethe direct opposite. As cold-blooded and ruthless a bunch ofmurderers as you can possibly imagine. They tried to kill me whenthey met me, without reason. Their clothes, habits, dwellings, manners--everything about them differs from that of the normalDisan. More important, the magter are as coldly efficient andinhuman as a reptile. They have no emotions, no love, no hate, no anger, no fear--nothing. Each of them is a chilling bundle ofthought processes and reactions, with all the emotions removed. "

"Aren't you exaggerating?" Lea asked. "After all, you can't be sure. It might just be part of their training not to reveal any emotionalstate. Everyone must experience emotional states, whether they likeit or not. "

"That's my main point. Everyone does--except the magter. I can't gointo all the details now, so you'll just have to take my word forit. Even at the point of death they have no fear or hatred. It maysound impossible, but it is true. "

Lea tried to shake the knots from her drug-hazed mind. "I'm dulltoday, " she said. "You'll have to excuse me. If these rulers had noemotional responses, that might explain their present suicidalposition. But an explanation like this raises more new problems thanit supplies answers to the old ones. How did they get this way! Itdoesn't seem humanly possible to be without emotions of some kind. "

"Just my point. Not _humanly_ possible. I think these ruling classDisans aren't human at all, like the other Disans. I think they arealien creatures--robots or androids--anything except men. I thinkthey are living in disguise among the normal human dwellers. "

At first Lea started to smile, then her feeling changed when she sawhis face. "You are serious?" she asked. 

"Never more so. I realize it must sound as if I've had my brainsbounced around too much this morning. Yet this is the only idea Ican come up with that fits all of the facts. Look at the evidenceyourself. One simple thing stands out clearly, and must beconsidered first if any theory is to hold up. That is the magters'complete indifference to death--their own or anyone else's. Is thatnormal to mankind?"

"No--but I can find a couple of explanations that I would ratherexplore first, before dragging in an alien life form. There may havebeen a mutation or an inherited disease that has deformed or warpedtheir minds. "

"Wouldn't that be sort of self-eliminating?" Brion asked. "Anti-survival? People who die before puberty would find it a littledifficult to pass on a mutation to their children. But let's notbeat this one point to death--it's the totality of these people thatI find so hard to accept. Any one thing might be explained away, butnot the collection of them. What about their complete lack ofemotion? Or their manner of dress and their secrecy in general? Theordinary Disan wears a cloth kilt, while the magter cover themselvesas completely as possible. They stay in their black towers andnever go out except in groups. Their dead are always removed so theycan't be examined. In every way they act like a race apart--and Ithink they are. "

"Granted for the moment that this outlandish idea might be true, howdid they get here? And why doesn't anyone know about it besides them?"

"Easily enough explained, " Brion insisted. "There are no writtenrecords on this planet. After the Breakdown, when the handful ofsurvivors were just trying to exist here, the aliens could havelanded and moved in. Any interference could have been wiped out. Once the population began to grow, the invaders found they couldkeep control by staying separate, so their alien difference wouldn'tbe noticed. "

"Why should that bother them?" Lea asked. "If they are soindifferent to death, they can't have any strong thoughts on publicopinion or alien body odor. Why would they bother with such acomplex camouflage? And if they arrived from another planet, whathas happened to the scientific ability that brought them here?"

"Peace, " Brion said. "I don't know enough to be able even to guessat answers to half your questions. I'm just trying to fit a theoryto the facts. And the facts are clear. The magter are so inhumanthey would give me nightmares--if I were sleeping these days. Whatwe need is more evidence. "

"Then get it, " Lea said with finality. "I'm not telling you to turnmurderer--but you might try a bit of grave-digging. Give me ascalpel and one of your friends stretched out on a slab and I'llquickly tell you what he is or is not. " She turned back to themicroscope and bent over the eyepiece. 

That was really the only way to hack the Gordian knot. Dis had onlythirty-six more hours to live, so individual deaths shouldn't be ofany concern. He had to find a dead magter, and if none wasobtainable in the proper condition he had to get one of them byviolence. For a planetary savior, he was personally doing in anawful lot of the citizenry. 

He stood behind Lea, looking down at her thoughtfully while sheworked. The back of her neck, lightly covered with gently curlinghair, was turned toward him. With one of the about-face shiftsthe mind is capable of, his thoughts flipped from death to life, and he experienced a strong desire to caress this spot lightly, to feel the yielding texture of female flesh. .. . 

Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he walked quickly to thedoor. "Get some rest soon, " he called to her. "I doubt if those bugswill give you the answer. I'm going now to see if I can get thefull-sized specimen you want. "

"The truth could be anywhere. I'll stay on these until you comeback, " she said, not looking up from the microscope. 

Up under the roof was a well-equipped communications room. Brionhad taken a quick look at it when he had first toured the building. The duty operator had earphones on--though only one of the phonescovered an ear--and was monitoring through the bands. His shoelessfeet were on the edge of the table, and he was eating a thicksandwich held in his free hand. His eyes bulged when he saw Brionin the doorway and he jumped into a flurry of action. 

"Hold the pose, " Brion told him; "it doesn't bother me. And if youmake any sudden moves you are liable to break a phone, electrocuteyourself, or choke to death. Just see if you can set the transceiveron this frequency for me. " Brion wrote the number on a scratchpad and slid it over to the operator. It was the frequencyProfessor-Commander Krafft had given him for the radio of theillegal terrorists--the Nyjord army. 

The operator plugged in a handset and gave it to Brion. "Circuitopen, " he mumbled around a mouthful of still unswallowed sandwich. 

"This is Brandd, director of the C. R. F. Come in, please. " He went onrepeating this for more than ten minutes before he got an answer. 

"_What do you want?_"

"I have a message of vital urgency for you--and I would also likeyour help. Do you want any more information on the radio?

"_No. Wait there--we'll get in touch with you after dark. _"The carrier wave went dead. 

Thirty-five hours to the end of the world--and all he could do was wait. 

XII

On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat piles of paper. As hesat down and reached for them he was conscious of an arctic coldnessin the air, a frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditionergrill, which was now covered by welded steel bars. The control unitwas sealed shut. Someone was either being very funny or veryefficient. Either way, it was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plateuntil it buckled, then bent it aside. After a careful look into theinterior he disconnected one wire and shorted it to another. He wasrewarded by a number of sputtering cracks and a quantity of smoke. The compressor moaned and expired. 

Faussel was standing in the door with more papers, a shockedexpression on his face. "What do you have there?" Brion asked. 

Faussel managed to straighten out his face and brought the foldersto the desk, arranging them on the piles already there. "These arethe progress reports you asked for, from all units. Details to date, conclusions, suggestions, et cetera. "

"And the other pile?" Brion pointed. 

"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices, requisitions. " Hestraightened the edges of the stack while he answered. "Dailyreports, hospital log. .. . " His voice died away and stopped as Brioncarefully pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into thewastebasket. 

"In other words, red tape, " Brion said. "Well, it's all filed. "

One by one the progress reports followed the first stack into thebasket, until the desk was clear. Nothing. It was just what he hadexpected. But there had always been the off chance that one of thespecialists could come up with a new approach. They hadn't; theywere all too busy specializing. 

Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance guard had beentold to let in anyone who came asking for the director. There wasnothing else Brion could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact. Irritation bit at him. At least Lea was doing somethingconstructive; he could look in on her. 

He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of pleasantanticipation. It froze and shattered instantly. Her microscope washooded and she was gone. _She's having dinner_, he thought, or--_she's in the hospital_. The hospital was on the floor below, and he went there first. 

"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where else shoulda girl in her condition be? She was out of bed long enough today. Tomorrow's the last day, and if you want to get any more work outof her before the deadline, you had better let her rest tonight. Better let the whole staff rest. I've been handing out tranquilizerslike aspirin all day. They're falling apart. "

"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"

"Considering her shape, she's fine. Go in and see for yourself ifyou won't take my word for it. I have other patients to look at. "

"Are you that worried, Doctor?"

"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the weakness of the flesh asthe rest of you. We're sitting on a ticking bomb and I don't likeit. I'll do my job as long as it is necessary, but I'll also bedamned glad to see the ships land to pull us out. The only skin thatI really feel emotionally concerned about right now is my own. Andif you want to be let in on a public secret--the rest of your stafffeels the same way. So don't look forward to too much efficiency. "

"I never did, " Brion said to the retreating back. 

Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light of Dis's moonslanting in through the window. Brion let himself in and closed thedoor behind him. Walking quietly, he went over to the bed. Lea wassleeping soundly, her breathing gentle and regular. A night's sleepnow would do as much good as all the medication. 

He should have gone then; instead, he sat down in the chair placednext to the head of the bed. The guards knew where he was--he couldwait here just as well as any place else. 

It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the brink ofdestruction. He was grateful for it. Everything looked less harshin the moonlight, and he rubbed some of the tension from his eyes. Lea's face was ironed smooth by the light, beautiful and young, adirect contrast to everything else on this poisonous world. Her handwas outside of the covers and he took it in his own, obeying asudden impulse. Looking out of the window at the desert in thedistance, he let the peace wash over him, forcing himself to forgetfor the moment that in one more day life would be stripped from thisplanet. 

Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her eyes were open, though she hadn't moved. How long had she been awake? He jerked hishand away from hers, feeling suddenly guilty. 

"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if they're fit forthe treadmills in the morning?" she asked. It was the kind of remarkshe had used with such frequency in the ship, though it didn't soundquite as harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it reminded him toowell of her superior attitude towards rubes from the stellar sticks. Here he might be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be onlyone more gaping, lead-footed yokel. 

"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating the triteness ofthe words, even as he said them. 

"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a piece of fruit fromthat bowl, will you? My mouth tastes like an old boot heel. I wonderhow fresh fruit ever got here. Probably a gift to the workingclasses from the smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord. "

She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it. "Did you everthink of going to Earth?"

Brion was startled. This was too close to his own thoughts aboutplanetary backgrounds. There couldn't possibly be a connectionthough. "Never, " he told her. "Up until a few months ago I nevereven considered leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a big thing athome that it is hard to imagine that anything else exists while youare still taking part in them. "

"Spare me the Twenties, " she pleaded. "After listening to you andIhjel, I know far more about them than I shall ever care to know. But what about Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states as Earthdoes?"

"Nothing like that. For its size, it has a very small population. No big cities at all. I guess the largest centers of populationare around the schools, packing plants, things like that. "

"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's eternal abilityto make any general topic personal. 

"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't know for sure. And you must realize that when I say no big cities, I also mean nolittle cities. We aren't organized that way at all. I imagine thebasic physical unit is the family and the circle of friends. Friendsget important quickly, since the family breaks up when children arestill relatively young. Something in the genes, I suppose--we allenjoy being alone. I suppose you might call it an inbred survivaltrait. "

"Up to a point, " she said, biting delicately into the apple. "Carrythat sort of thing too far and you end up with no population at all. A certain amount of proximity is necessary for that. "

"Of course it is. And there must be some form of recognizedrelationship or control--that or complete promiscuity. On Anvharthe emphasis is on personal responsibility, and that seems to take careof the problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at . .. Things, our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals arebrought together either by accident or design, and with thisproximity must be some certainty of relations. .. . "

"You're losing me, " Lea protested. "Either I'm still foggy fromthe dope, or you are suddenly unable to speak a word of less thanfour syllables. You know--whenever this happens with you, I getthe distinct impression that you are trying to cover up something. For Occam's sake, be specific! Bring me together two of thesehypothetical individuals and tell me what happens. "

Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head and far fromshore. "Well--take a bachelor like myself. Since I likecross-country skiing I make my home in this big house our familyhas, right at the edge of the Broken Hills. In summer I looked aftera drumtum herd, but after slaughtering my time was my own allwinter. I did a lot of skiing, and used to work for the Twenties. Sometimes I would go visiting. Then again, people would drop in onme--houses are few and far between on Anvhar. We don't even havelocks on our doors. You accept and give hospitality withoutqualification. Whoever comes. Male . .. Female . .. In groups or justtraveling alone. .. . "

"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl on youriceberg planet. She must surely have to stay home a lot. "

"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever she wishes andbe welcomed as another individual. I suppose it is out of fashionin the rest of the galaxy--and would probably raise a big laugh onEarth--but a platonic, disinterested friendship between man andwoman is an accepted thing on Anvhar. "

"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool and distantfriends, how do babies get made?"

Brion felt his ears reddening, not sure if he was being teased ornot. "The same damn way they get made any place else! But it's notjust a reflexive process like a couple of rabbits that happen tomeet under the same bush. It's the woman's choice to indicate ifshe is interested in marriage. "

"Is marriage the only thing your women are interested in?"

"Marriage or . .. Anything else. That's up to the girl. We have aspecial problem on Anvhar--probably the same thing occurs on everyplanet where the human race has made a massive adaptation. Not allunions are fertile and there is always a large percentage ofmiscarriages. A large number of births are conceived by artificialinsemination. Which is all right when you can't have babiesnormally. But most women have an emotional bias towards havingtheir husband's children. And there is only one way to find outif this is possible. "

Lea's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that your girls see if a mancan father children _before_ considering marriage?"

"Of course. Otherwise Anvhar would have been depopulated centuriesago. Therefore the woman does the choosing. If she is interested ina man, she says so. If she is not interested, the man would neverthink of suggesting anything. It's a lot different from otherplanets, but so is our planet Anvhar. It works well for us, whichis the only test that applies. "

"Just about the opposite of Earth, " Lea told him, dropping the applecore into a dish and carefully licking the tips of her fingers. "Iguess you Anvharians would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed ofsexuality. The reverse of your system, and going full blast all thetime. There are far too many people there for comfort. Birth controlcame late and is still being fought--if you can possibly imaginethat. There are just too many of the archaic religions still around, as well as crackbrained ideas that have been long entrenched incustom. The world's overcrowded. Men, women, children, a boiling mobwherever you look. And all of the physically mature ones seem to beinvolved in the Great Game of Love. The male is always theaggressor. Not physically--at least not often--and women take themost outrageous kinds of flattery for granted. At parties there arealways a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning your neck. A girlhas to keep her spike heels filed sharp. "

"She has to _what_?"

"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back all the time, if you don't want to be washed under by the flood. "

"Sounds rather"--Brion weighed the word before he said it, butcould find none other suitable--"repellent. "

"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid we get so used toit that we even take it for granted. Sociologically speaking. .. . "She stopped and looked at Brion's straight back and almost rigidposture. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken _oh_of sudden realization. 

"I'm being a fool, " she said. "You weren't speaking generally atall! You had a very specific subject in mind. Namely _me_!"

"Please, Lea, you must understand. .. . "

"But I do!" She laughed. "All the time I thought you were being afrigid and hard-hearted lump of ice, you were really being verysweet. Just playing the game in good old Anvharian style. Waitingfor a sign from me. We'd still be playing by different rules if youhadn't had more sense than I, and finally realized that somewherealong the line we must have got our signals mixed. And I thought youwere some kind of frosty offworld celibate. " She let her hand go outand her fingers rustled through his hair. Something she had beenwanting to do for a long time. 

"I had to, " he said, trying to ignore the light touch of herfingers. "Because I thought so much of you, I couldn't have doneanything to insult you. Such as forcing my attentions on you. UntilI began to worry where the insult would lie, since I knew nothingabout your planet's mores. "

"Well, you know now, " she said very softly. "The men aggress. Nowthat I understand, I think I like your way better. But I'm still notsure of all the rules. Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you sovery much? You are more man, in one great big wide-shouldered lump, than I have ever met before. It's not quite the time or the placeto discuss marriage, but I would certainly like--"

His arms were around her, holding her to him. Her hands clasped himand their lips sought each other's in the darkness. 

"Gently . .. " she whispered. "I bruise easily. .. . "

XIII

"He wouldn't come in, sir. Just hammered on the door and said, '_I'm here, tell Brandd. _'"

"Good enough, " Brion said, fitting his gun in the holster andsliding the extra clips into his pocket. "I'm going out now, and Ishould return before dawn. Get one of the wheeled stretchers downhere from the hospital. I'll want it waiting when I get back. "

Outside, the street was darker than he remembered. Brion frownedand his hand moved towards his gun. Someone had put all the nearbylights out of commission. There was just enough illumination fromthe stars to enable him to make out the dark bulk of a sand car. 

"Brion Brandd?" a voice spoke harshly from the car. "Get in. "

The motor roared as soon as he had closed the door. Without lightsthe sand car churned a path through the city and out into thedesert. Though the speed picked up, the driver still drove in thedark, feeling his way with a light touch on the controls. The groundrose, and when they reached the top of a mesa he killed the engine. Neither the driver nor Brion had spoken a word since they left. 

A switch snapped and the instrument lights came on. In their dimglow Brion could just make out the other man's hawklike profile. When he moved, Brion saw that his figure was cruelly shortened. Either accident or a mutated gene had warped his spine, hunching himforward in eternally bent supplication. Warped bodies were rare--hiswas the first Brion had ever seen. He wondered what series of eventshad kept him from medical attention all his life. This might explainthe bitterness and pain in the man's voice. 

"Did the mighty brains on Nyjord bother to tell you that they havechopped another day off the deadline?" the man asked. "That thisworld is about to come to an end?"

"Yes, I know, " Brion said. "That's why I'm asking your group forhelp. Our time is running out too fast. "

The man didn't answer; he merely grunted and gave his full attentionto the radar pings and glowing screen. The electronic senses reachedout as he made a check on all the search frequencies to see if theywere being followed. 

"Where are we going?" Brion asked. 

"Out into the desert. " The driver made a vague wave of his hand. "Headquarters of the army. Since the whole thing will be blown up inanother day, I guess I can tell you it's the only camp we have. Allthe cars, men and weapons are based there. And Hys. He's the man incharge. Tomorrow it will be all gone--along with this cursed planet. What's your business with us?"

"Shouldn't I be telling Hys that?"

"Suit yourself. " Satisfied with the instrument search, the driverkicked the car to life again and churned on across the desert. "Butwe're a volunteer army and we have no secrets from each other. Justfrom the fools at home who are going to kill this world. " There wasa bitterness in his words that he made no attempt to conceal. "Theyfought among themselves and put off a firm decision so long that nowthey are forced to commit murder. "

"From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around. They call your Nyjord army terrorists. "

"We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists athome only understood that when it was too late. If they had backedus in the beginning we would have blown open every black castle onDis, searched until we found those bombs. But that would have meantwanton destruction and death. They wouldn't consider that. Now theyare going to kill everyone, destroy everything. " He flicked on thepanel lights just long enough to take a compass bearing, and Brionsaw the tortured unhappiness in his twisted body. 

"It's not over yet, " Brion said. "There is more than a day left, and I think I'm onto something that might stop the war--withoutany bombs being dropped. "

"You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread andBlankets Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do whenthe shooting starts?"

"None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying toinsult me--don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high. "

The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as they ran througha field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked. 

"We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Aliveor dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to haveone around?"

"No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their homegrounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours. What good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where thebombs or the jump-space projector is. "

"I don't see why I should explain that to you--unless you are incharge. You are Hys, aren't you?"

The driver gave an angry sound, and then was silent while he drove. Finally he asked, "What makes you think that?"

"Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sand-car driver, for one thing. Of course your army may be all generals and noprivates--but I doubt it. I also know that time has almost run outfor all of us. This is a long ride and it would be a complete wasteof time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for me. Bydriving me yourself you could make your mind up before we arrived. Could have a decision ready as to whether you are going to help meor not. Are you?"

"Yes--I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What doyou want the body for?"

"We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't thinkthe magter are human. They are something living among men anddisguised as men--but still not human. "

"Secret aliens?" Hys exploded the words in a mixture of surpriseand disgust. 

"Perhaps. The examination will tell us that. "

"You're either stupid or incompetent, " Hys said bitterly. "The heatof Dis has cooked your brains in your head. I'll be no part of thiskind of absurd plan. "

"You must, " Brion said, surprised at his own calmness. He couldsense the other man's interest hidden behind his insulting manner. "I don't even have to give you my reasons. In another day this worldends and you have no way to stop it. I just might have an idea thatcould work, and you can't afford to take any chances--not if you arereally sincere. Either you are a murderer, killing Disans forpleasure, or you honestly want to stop the war. Which is it?"

"You'll have your body all right, " Hys grated, hurling the carviciously around a spire of rock. "Not that it will accomplishanything--but I can find no fault with killing another magter. Wecan fit your operation into our plans without any trouble. This isthe last night and I have sent every one of my teams out on raids. We're breaking into as many magter towers as possible before dawn. There is a slim chance that we might uncover something. It's reallyjust shooting in the dark, but it's all we can do now. My own teamis waiting and you can ride along with us. The others left earlier. We're going to hit a small tower on this side of the city. We raidedit once before and captured a lot of small arms they had storedthere. There is a good chance that they may have been stupid enoughto store something there again. Sometimes the magter seem to sufferfrom a complete lack of imagination. "

"You have no idea just how right you are, " Brion told him. 

The sand car slowed down now, as they approached a slab-sided mesathat rose vertically from the desert. They crunched across brokenrocks, leaving no tracks. A light blinked on the dashboard, and Hysstopped instantly and killed the engine. They climbed out, stretching and shivering in the cold desert night. 

It was dark walking in the shadow of the cliff and they had to feeltheir way along a path through the tumbled boulders. A sudden blazeof light made Brion wince and shield his eyes. Near him, on theground, was the humming shape of a cancellation projector, sendingout a fan-shaped curtain of vibration that absorbed all the lightrays falling upon it. This incredible blackness made a lightproofwall for the recessed hollow at the foot of the cliff. In thisshelter, under the overhang of rock, were three open sand cars. Theywere large and armor-plated, warlike in their scarred grey paint. Men sprawled, talked, and polished their weapons. Everything stoppedwhen Hys and Brion appeared. 

"Load up, " Hys called out. "We're going to attack now, same plan Ioutlined earlier. Get Telt over here. " In talking to his own mensome of the harshness was gone from his voice. The tall soldiers ofNyjord moved in ready obeyance of their commander. They loomed overhis bent figure, most of them twice as tall as he, but there was nohesitation in jumping when he commanded. They were the body of theNyjord striking force--he was the brains. 

A square-cut, compact man rolled up to Hys and saluted with aleisurely flick of his hand. He was weighted and slung about withpacks and electronic instruments. His pockets bulged with smalltools and spare parts. 

"This is Telt, " Hys said to Brion. "He'll take care of you. Telt'smy personal technical squad. He goes along on all my operations withhis meters to test the interiors of the Disan forts. So far he'sfound no trace of a jump-space generator, or excess radioactivitythat might indicate a bomb. Since he's useless and you're useless, you both take care of each other. Use the car we came in. "

Telt's wide face split in a froglike grin; his voice was hoarse andthroaty. "Wait. Just wait! Someday those needles gonna flicker andall our troubles be over. What you want me to do with the stranger?"

"Supply him with a corpse--one of the magter, " Hys said. "Take itwherever he wants and then report back here. " Hys scowled at Telt. "Someday your needles will flicker! Poor fool--this is the lastday. " He turned away and waved the men into their sand cars. 

"He likes me, " Telt said, attaching a final piece of equipment. "You can tell because he calls me names like that. He's a great man, Hys is, but they never found out until it was too late. Hand me thatmeter, will you?"

Brion followed the technician out to the car and helped him load hisequipment aboard. When the larger cars appeared out of the darkness, Telt swung around after them. They snaked forward in a single linethrough the rocks, until they came to the desert of rolling sanddunes. Then they spread out in line abreast and rushed towards theirgoal. 

Telt hummed to himself hoarsely as he drove. He broke off suddenlyand looked at Brion. "What you want the dead Dis for?"

"A theory, " Brion answered sluggishly. He had been half napping inthe chair, taking the opportunity for some rest before the attack. "I'm still looking for a way to avert the end. "

"You and Hys, " Telt said with satisfaction. "Couple of idealists. Trying to stop a war you didn't start. They never would listen toHys. He told them in the beginning exactly what would happen, andhe was right. They always thought his ideas were crooked, like him. Growing up alone in the hill camp, with his back too twisted and tooold to be fixed when he finally did come out. Ideas twisted the sameway. Made himself an authority on war. Hah! War on Nyjord--that'slike being an ice-cube specialist in hell. But he knew all about it, though they never would let him use what he knew. Put granddaddyKrafft in charge instead. "

"But Hys is in charge of an army now?"

"All volunteers, too few of them and too little money. Too littleand too damned late to do any good. I'll tell you we did our best, but it could never be good enough. And for this we get calledbutchers. " There was a catch in Telt's voice now, an undercurrent ofemotion he couldn't suppress. "At home they think we like to kill. Think we're insane. They can't understand we're doing the only thingthat has to be done--"

He broke off as he quickly locked on the brakes and killed theengine. The line of sand cars had come to a stop. Ahead, justvisible over the dunes, was the summit of a dark tower. 

"We walk from here, " Telt said, standing and stretching. "We cantake our time, because the other boys go in first, soften things up. Then you and I head for the sub-cellar for a radiation check andfind you a handsome corpse. "

Walking at first, then crawling when the dunes no longer shieldedthem, they crept up on the Disan keep. Dark figures moved ahead ofthem, stopping only when they reached the crumbling black walls. They didn't use the ascending ramp, but made their way up the sheeroutside face of the ramparts. 

"Line-throwers, " Telt whispered. "Anchor themselves when the missilehits, have some kind of quick-setting goo. Then we go up thefilament with a line-climbing motor. Hys invented them. "

"Is that the way you and I are going in?" Brion asked. 

"No, we get out of the climbing. I told you we hit this rock oncebefore. I know the layout inside. " He was moving while he talked, carefully pacing the distance around the base of the tower. "Shouldbe right about here. "

High-pitched keening sliced the air and the top of the magterbuilding burst into flame. Automatic weapons hammered above them. Something fell silently through the night and hit heavily on theground near them. 

"Attack's started, " Telt shouted. "We have to get through now, while all the creepies are fighting it out on top. " He pulleda plate-shaped object from one of his bags and slapped it hardagainst the wall. It hung there. He twisted the back of it, pulledsomething and waved Brion to the ground. "Shaped charge. Should blowstraight in, but you never can tell. "

The ground jumped under them and the ringing thud was a giant fistpunching through the wall. A cloud of dust and smoke rolled clearand they could see the dark opening in the rock, a tunnel driveninto the wall by the directional force of the explosion. Telt shonea light through the hole at the crumbled chamber inside. 

"Nothing to worry about from anybody who was leaning against thiswall. But let's get in and out of this black beehive before the onesupstairs come down to investigate. "

Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they skidded and tumbledover it. Telt pointed the way with his light, down a sharply angledramp. "Underground chambers in the rock. They always store theirstuff down there--"

A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's mouth, hitting attheir feet. Telt just gaped, but even as it hit the floor Brion wasjumping forward. He caught it with the side of his foot, kicking itback into the dark opening of the tunnel. Telt hit the ground nextto him as the orange flame of an explosion burst below. Bits ofshrapnel rattled from the ceiling and wall behind them. 

"Grenades!" Telt gasped. "They've only used them once before--can'thave many. Gotta warn Hys. " He plugged a throat mike into thetransmitter on his tack and spoke quickly into it. There was astirring below and Brion poured a rain of fire into the tunnel. 

"They're catching it bad on top, too! We gotta pull out. Go firstand I'll cover you. "

"I came for my Disan--I'm not leaving until I get one. "

"You're crazy! You're dead if you stay!"

Telt was scrambling back towards the crumbled entrance as he talked. His back was turned when Brion fired. The magter had appearedsilently as the shadow of death. They charged without a sound, running with expressionless faces into the bullets. Two died atonce, curling and folding; the third one fell at Brion's feet. Shot, pierced, dying, but not yet dead. Leaving a crimson track, ithunched closer, lifting its knife to Brion. He didn't move. How manytimes must you murder a man? Or was it a man? His mind and bodyrebelled against the killing, and he was almost ready to acceptdeath himself, rather than kill again. 

Telt's bullets tore through the body and it dropped with grim finality. 

"There's your corpse--now get it out of here!" Telt screeched. 

Between them they worked the sodden weight of the dead magterthrough the hole, their exposed backs crawling with the expectationof instant death. No further attack came as they ran from the tower, other than a grenade that exploded too far behind them to do anyharm. 

One of the armored sand cars circled the keep, headlights blazing, keeping up a steady fire from its heavy weapons. The attackersclimbed into it as they beat a retreat. Telt and Brion draggedthe Disan behind them, struggling through the loose sand towardsthe circling car. Telt glanced over his shoulder and broke intoa shambling run. 

"They're following us!" he gasped. "The first time they ever chasedus after a raid!"

"They must know we have the body, " Brion said. 

"Leave it behind . .. " Telt choked. "Too heavy to carry . .. Anyway!"

"I'd rather leave you, " Brion said sharply. "Let me have it. " Hepulled the corpse away from the unresisting Telt and heaved itacross his own shoulders. "Now use your gun to cover us!"

Telt threw a rain of slugs back towards the dark figures followingthem. The driver of the sand car must have seen the flare of theirfire, because the truck turned and started towards them. It brakedin a choking cloud of dust and ready hands reached to pull them up. Brion pushed the body in ahead of himself and scrambled after it. The truck engine throbbed and they churned away into the blackness, away from the gutted tower. 

"You know, that was more like kind of a joke, when I said I'd leavethe corpse behind, " Telt told Brion. "You didn't believe me, didyou?"

"Yes, " Brion said, holding the dead weight of the magter againstthe truck's side. "I thought you meant it. "

"Ahhh, " Telt protested, "you're as bad as Hys. You take thingstoo seriously. "

Brion suddenly realized that he was wet with blood, his clothingsodden. His stomach rose at the thought and he clutched the edge ofthe sand car. Killing like this was too personal. Talkingabstractedly about a body was one thing, but murdering a man, thenlifting his dead flesh and feeling his blood warm upon you is anentirely different matter. But the magter weren't human, he knewthat. The thought was only mildly comforting. 

After they had reached the other waiting sand cars, the raidingparty split up. "Each one goes in a different direction, " Telt said, "so they can't track us to the base. " He clipped a piece of papernext to the compass and kicked the motor into life. "We'll make abig U in the desert and end up in Hovedstad. I got the course here. Then I'll dump you and your friends and beat it back to our camp. You're not still burned at me for what I said, are you? Are you?"

Brion didn't answer. He was staring fixedly out of the side window. 

"What's doing?" Telt asked. Brion pointed out at the rushing darkness. 

"Over there, " he said, pointing to the growing light on the horizon. 

"Dawn, " Telt said. "Lotta rain on your planet? Didn't you ever seethe sun come up before?"

"Not on the last day of a world. "

"Lock it up, " Telt grumbled. "You give me the crawls. I know they'regoing to be blasted. But at least I know I did everything I could tostop it. How do you think they are going to be feeling at home--onNyjord--from tomorrow on?"

"Maybe we can still stop it, " Brion said, shrugging off the feelingof gloom. Telt's only answer was a wordless sound of disgust. 

By the time they had cut a large loop in the desert the sun was wellup in the sky, the daily heat begun. Their course took them througha chain of low, flinty hills that cut their speed almost to zero. They ground ahead in low gear while Telt sweated and cursed, struggling with the controls. Then they were on firm sand andpicking up speed towards the city. 

As soon as Brion saw Hovedstad clearly he felt a clutch of fear. From somewhere in the city a black plume of smoke was rising. Itcould have been one of the deserted buildings aflame, a minor blaze. Yet the closer they came, the greater his tension grew. Brion didn'tdare put it into words himself; it was Telt who vocalized thethought. 

"A fire or something. Coming from your area, somewhere close toyour building. "

Within the city they saw the first signs of destruction. Brokenrubble on the streets. The smell of greasy smoke in their nostrils. More and more people appeared, going in the same direction theywere. The normally deserted streets of Hovedstad were now almostcrowded. Disans, obvious by their bare shoulders, mixed with thefew offworlders who still remained. 

Brion made sure the tarpaulin was well wrapped around the bodybefore they pushed the sand car slowly through the growing crowd. 

"I don't like all this publicity, " Telt complained, looking at thepeople. "It's the last day, or I'd be turning back. They know ourcars; we've raided them often enough. " Turning a corner, he brakedsuddenly, mouth agape. 

Ahead was destruction. Black, broken rubble had been churned intodesolation. It was still smoking, pink tongues of flame licking overthe ruins. A fragment of wall fell with a rumbling crash. 

"It's your building--the Foundation building!" Telt shouted. "They've been here ahead of us--must have used the radio to calla raid. They did a job, explosive of some kind. "

Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead, mixed and brokenwith other rubble, were the bodies of all the people who had trustedhim. Lea . .. Beautiful and cruelly dead Lea. Doctor Stine, hispatients, Faussel, all of them. He had kept them on this planet, and now they were dead. Every one of them. Dead. 

Murderer!

XIV

Life was ended. Brion's mind contained nothing but despair and thepain of irretrievable loss. If his brain had been completely themaster of his body he would have died there, for at that momentthere was no will to live. Unaware of this, his heart continued tobeat and the regular motion of his lungs drew in the dreadfulsweetness of the smoke-tainted air. With automatic directnesshis body lived on. 

"What you gonna do?" Telt asked, even his natural exuberationstilled by this. Brion only shook his head as the words penetrated. What could he do? What could possibly be done?

"Follow me, " a voice said in guttural Disan through the opening ofa rear window. The speaker was lost in the crowd before they couldturn. Aware now, Brion saw a native move away from the edge of thecrowd and turn to look in their direction. It was Ulv. 

"Turn the car--that way!" He punched Telt's arm and pointed. "Do itslowly and don't draw any attention to us. " For a moment there washope, which he kept himself from considering. The building was gone, and the people in it all dead. That fact had to be faced. 

"What's going on?" Telt asked. "Who was that talked in the window?"

"A native--that one up ahead. He saved my life in the desert, andI think he is on our side. Even though he's a native Disan, he canunderstand facts that the magter can't. He knows what will happento this planet. " Brion was talking to fill his brain with words sohe wouldn't begin to have hope. There was no hope possible. 

Ulv moved slowly and naturally through the streets, never lookingback. They followed, as far behind as they dared, yet still keepinghim in sight. Fewer people were about here among the desertedoffworld storehouses. Ulv vanished into one of these; LIGHT METALSTRUST LTD. , the sign read above the door. Telt slowed the car. 

"Don't stop here, " Brion said. "Drive around the corner, and pull up. "

Brion climbed out of the car with an ease he did not feel. No onewas in sight now, in either direction. Walking slowly back to thecorner, he checked the street they had just left. Hot, silent andempty. 

A sudden blackness appeared where the door of the warehouse hadbeen, and the sudden flickering motion of a hand. Brion signaledTelt to start, and jumped into the already moving sand car. 

"Into that open door--quickly, before anyone sees us!" The carrumbled down a ramp into the dark interior and the door slid shutbehind them. 

"Ulv! What is it? Where are you?" Brion called, blinking in themurky interior. A grey form appeared beside him. 

"I am here. "

"Did you--" There was no way to finish the sentence. 

"I heard of the raid. The magter called together all of us theycould to help them carry explosive. I went along. I could not stopthem, and there was no time to warn anyone in the building. "

"Then they are all dead?"

"Yes, " Ulv nodded. "All except one. I knew I could perhaps save one;I was not sure who. So I took the woman you were with in thedesert--she is here now. She was hurt, but not badly, when I broughther out. "

Guilty relief flooded through Brion. He shouldn't exult, not withthe death of everyone in the Foundation still fresh in his mind. But at that instant he was happy. 

"Let me see her, " he said to Ulv. He was seized by the sudden fearthat there might be a mistake. Perhaps Ulv had saved a differentwoman. 

Ulv led the way across the empty loading bay. Brion followedclosely, fighting down the temptation to tell him to hurry. When hesaw that Ulv was heading towards an office in the far wall, he couldcontrol himself no longer and ran on ahead. 

It was Lea, lying unconscious on a couch. Sweat beaded her face andshe moaned and stirred without opening her eyes. 

"I gave her _sover_, then wrapped her in cloth so no one wouldknow, " Ulv said. 

Telt was close behind them, looking in through the open door. 

"_Sover_ is a drug they take from one of their plants, " he said. "We got a lot of experience with it. A little makes a good knock-outdrug, but it's deadly poison in large doses. I got the antidote inthe car; wait and I'll get it. " He went out. 

Brion sat next to Lea and wiped her face clean of dirt andperspiration. The dark shadows under her eyes were almost black nowand her elfin face seemed even thinner. But she was alive--that wasthe important thing. 

Some of the tension drained away from Brion and he could thinkagain. There was still the job to do. After this last experience Leashould be in a hospital bed. But this was impossible. He would haveto drag her to her feet and put her back to work. The answer mightstill be found. Each second ticked away another fraction of theplanet's life. 

"Good as new in a minute, " Telt said, banging down the heavy medbox. He watched intently as Ulv left the room. "Hys shouldknow about this renegade. Might be useful as a spy, or forinformation--though of course it's too late now to do anything, sothe hell with it. " He pulled a pistol-shaped hypodermic gun from thebox and dialed a number on the side. "Now, if you'll roll her sleeveup I'll bring her back to life. " He pressed the bell-shapedsterilizing muzzle against her skin and pulled the trigger. The hypogun hummed briefly, ending its cycle with a loud click. 

"Does it work fast?" Brion asked. 

"Couple of minutes. Just let her be and she'll come to by herself. "

Ulv was in the doorway. "Killer!" he hissed. His blowgun was in hishand, half raised to his mouth. 

"He's been in the car--he's seen it!" Telt shouted and grabbed forhis gun. 

Brion sprang between them, raising his hands. "Stop it! No morekilling!" he shouted in Disan. Then he shook his fist at Telt. "Fire that gun and I'll stuff it down your throat. I'll handle this. "He turned to face Ulv, who hadn't brought the blowgun any closer tohis lips. This was a good sign--the Disan was still uncertain. 

"You have seen the body in the car, Ulv. So you must have seen thatit is that of a magter. I killed him myself, because I would ratherkill one, or ten, or even a hundred men than have everyone on thisplanet destroyed. I killed him in a fair fight and now I am goingto examine his body. There is something very strange and differentabout the magter, you know that yourself. If I can find out what itis, perhaps we can make them stop this war, and not bomb Nyjord. "

Ulv was still angry, but he lowered the blowgun a little. "I wishthere were no offworlders, " he said. "I wish that none of you hadever come. Nothing was wrong until you started coming. The magterwere the strongest, and they killed; but they also helped. Now theywant to fight a war with your weapons, and for this you are going tokill my world. And you want me to help you!"

"Not me--yourself!" Brion said wearily. "There's no going back, that's the one thing we can't do. Maybe Dis would have been betteroff without offplanet contact. Maybe not. In any case, you have toforget about that. You have contact now with the rest of the galaxy, for better or for worse. You've got a problem to solve, and I'm hereto help you solve it. "

Seconds ticked by as Ulv, unmoving, fought with questions that werenovel to his life. Could killing stop death? Could he help hispeople by helping strangers to fight and kill them? His world hadchanged and he didn't like it. He must make a giant effort to changewith it. 

Abruptly, he pushed the blowgun into a thong at his waist, turnedand strode out. 

"Too much for my nerves, " Telt said, settling his gun back in theholster. "You don't know how happy I'm gonna be when this whole damnthing is over. Even if the planet goes bang, I don't care. I'mfinished. " He walked out to the sand car, keeping a careful eyeon the Disan crouched against the wall. 

Brion turned back to Lea, whose eyes were open, staring at theceiling. He went to her. 

"Running, " she said, and her voice had a toneless emptiness thatscreamed louder than any emotion. "They ran by the open door of myroom and I could see them when they killed Dr. Stine. Just butcheredhim like an animal, chopping him down. Then one came into the roomand that's all I remember. " She turned her head slowly and looked atBrion. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"They're . .. Dead, " he told her. "All of them. After the raid theDisans blew up the building. You're the only one that survived. That was Ulv who came into your room, the Disan we met in the desert. He brought you away and hid you here in the city. "

"When do we leave?" she asked in the same empty tones, turningher face to the wall. "When do we get off this planet?"

"Today is the last day. The deadline is midnight. Krafft will havea ship pick us up when we are ready. But we still have our job to do. I've got that body. You're going to have to examine it. We mustfind out about the magter. .. . "

"Nothing can be done now except leave. " Her voice was a dullmonotone. "There is only so much that a person can do, and I've doneit. Please have the ship come; I want to leave now. "

Brion bit his lip in helpless frustration. Nothing seemed topenetrate the apathy into which she had sunk. Too much shock, toomuch terror, in too short a time. He took her chin in his hand andturned her head to face him. She didn't resist, but her eyes wereshining with tears; tears trickled down her cheeks. 

"Take me home, Brion, please take me home. "

He could only brush her sodden hair back from her face, and forcehimself to smile at her. The moments of time were running out, faster and faster, and he no longer knew what to do. The examinationhad to be made--yet he couldn't force her. He looked for the med boxand saw that Telt had taken it back to the sand car. There might besomething in it that could help--a tranquilizer perhaps. 

Telt had some of his instruments open on the chart table and wasexamining a tape with a pocket magnifier when Brion entered. Hejumped nervously and put the tape behind his back, then relaxed whenhe saw who it was. 

"I thought you were the creepie out there, coming for a look, " hewhispered. "Maybe you trust him--but I can't afford to. Can't evenuse the radio. I'm getting out of here now. I have to tell Hys!"

"Tell him what?" Brion asked sharply. "What is all the mysteryabout?"

Telt handed him the magnifier and tape. "Look at that--recordingtape from my scintillation counter. Red verticals are five-minuteintervals, the wiggly black horizontal line is the radioactivitylevel. All this where the line goes up and down, that's when we weredriving out to the attack. Varying hot level of the rock andground. "

"What's the big peak in the middle?"

"That coincides exactly with our visit to the house of horrors!When we went through the hole in the bottom of the tower!" Hecouldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. 

"Does it mean that. .. . "

"I don't know. I'm not sure. I have to compare it with the othertapes back at base. It could be the stone of the tower--some ofthese heavy rocks have got a high natural count. There maybe couldbe a box of instruments there with fluorescent dials. Or it might beone of those tactical atom bombs they threw at us already. Some armsrunner sold them a few. "

"Or it could be the cobalt bombs?"

"It could be, " Telt said, packing his instruments swiftly. "A badlyshielded bomb, or an old one with a crack in the skin, could givea trace like that. Just a little radon leaking out would do it. "

"Why don't you call Hys on the radio and let him know?"

"I don't want Granddaddy Krafft's listening posts to hear about it. This is our job--if I'm right. And I have to check my old tapes tomake sure. But it's gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in mybones. Let's unload your corpse. " He helped Brion with the clumsy, wrapped bundle, then slipped into the driver's seat. 

"Hold it, " Brion said. "Do you have anything in the med box I canuse for Lea? She seems to have cracked. Not hysterical, butwithdrawn. Won't listen to reason, won't do anything but lie thereand ask to go home. "

"Got the potion here, " Telt said, cracking the med box. "Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it. Hit a lot of ourboys. Grow up all your life hating the idea of violence, and it goesrough when you have to start killing people. Guys break up, breakdown, go to pieces lots of different ways. The medic mixed up thisstuff. Don't know how it works, probably tranquilizers and some ofthe cortex drugs. But it peels off recent memories. Maybe for thelast ten, twelve hours. You can't get upset about what you don'tremember. " He pulled out a sealed package. "Directions on the box. Good luck. "

"Luck, " Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused hand. "Let me know if the traces are strong enough to be bombs. " He checkedthe street to make sure it was clear, then pressed the door button. The sand car churned out into the brilliant sunshine and was gone, the throb of its motor dying in the distance. Brion closed the doorand went back to Lea. Ulv was still crouched against the wall. 

There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the box. Lea madeno protest when he broke the seal and pressed the needle againsther arm. She sighed and her eyes closed again. 

When he saw she was resting easily, he dragged in thetarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A work-bench ran along onewall and he struggled the corpse up onto it. He unwrapped thetarpaulin and the sightless eyes stared accusingly up into his. 

Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, blood-soaked clothing. Strapped under the clothes, around the man's waist, was the familiarcollection of Disan artifacts. This could have significance eitherway. Human or humanoid, the creature would still have to live onDis. Brion threw it aside, along with the clothing. Nude, pierced, bloody, the corpse lay before him. 

In every external physical detail the man was human. 

Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery. If the magter weren't alien, how could he explain their complete lackof emotions? A mutation of some kind? He didn't see how it waspossible. There _had_ to be something alien about the dead manbefore him. The future of a world rested on this flimsy hope. IfTelt's lead to the bombs proved to be false, there would be no hopeleft at all. 

Lea was still unconscious when he looked at her again. There was noway of telling how long the coma would last. He would probably haveto waken her out of it, but he didn't want to do it too early. Ittook an effort to control his impatience, even though he knew thedrug needed time in which to work. He finally decided on at least aminimum of an hour before he should try to disturb her. That wouldbe noon--twelve hours before destruction. 

One thing he should do was to get in touch with Professor-CommanderKrafft. Maybe it was being defeatist, but he had to make sure thatthey had a way off this planet if the mission failed. Krafft hadinstalled a relay radio that would forward calls from his personalset. If this relay had been in the Foundation building, contact wasbroken. This had to be found out before it was too late. Brionthumbed on his radio and sent the call. The reply came backinstantly. 

"This is fleet communications. Will you please keep this circuitopen? Commander Krafft is waiting for this call and it is being putdirectly through to him now. " Krafft's voice broke in while theoperator was still talking. 

"Who is making this call--is it anyone from the Foundation?"The old man's voice was shaky with emotion. 

"Brandd here. I have Lea Morees with me. .. . "

"No more? Are there no other survivors from the disaster thatdestroyed your building?"

"That's it, other than us it's a . .. Complete loss. With thebuilding and all the instruments gone, I have no way to contact ourship in orbit. Can you arrange to get us out of here if necessary?"

"Give me your location. A ship is coming now--"

"I don't need a ship now, " Brion interrupted. "Don't send it untilI call. If there is a way to stop your destruction I'll find it. So I'm staying--to the last minute if necessary. "

Krafft was silent. There was only the crackle of an open mike andthe sound of breathing. "That is your decision, " he said finally. "I'll have a ship standing by. But won't you let us take Miss Moreesout now?"

"No. I need her here. We are still working, looking for--"

"What answer can you find that could possibly avert destructionnow?" His tone was between hope and despair. Brion couldn't helphim. 

"If I succeed--you'll know. Otherwise, that will be the end of it. End of Transmission. " He switched the radio off. 

Lea was sleeping easily when he looked at her, and there was stilla good part of the hour left before he could wake her. How couldhe put it to use? She would need tools, instruments to examine thecorpse, and there were certainly none here. Perhaps he could findsome in the ruins of the Foundation building. With this thoughthe had the sudden desire to see the wreckage up close. There mightbe other survivors. He had to find out. If he could talk to the menhe had seen working there. .. . 

Ulv was still crouched against the wall in the outer room. He looked up angrily when Brion came over, but said nothing. 

"Will you help me again?" Brion asked. "Stay and watch the girlwhile I go out. I'll be back at noon. " Ulv didn't answer. "I amstill looking for the way to save Dis, " Brion added. 

"Go--I'll watch the girl!" Ulv spat words in impotent fury. "I donot know what to do. You may be right. Go. She will be safe with me. "

Brion slipped out into the deserted street and, half running, halfwalking, made his way towards the rubble that had been the CulturalRelationships Foundation. He used a different course from the onethey had come by, striking first towards the outer edge of the city. Once there, he could swing and approach from the other side, sothere would be no indication where he had come from. The magtermight be watching and he didn't want to lead them to Lea and thestolen body. 

Turning a corner, he saw a sand car stopped in the street ahead. There was something familiar about the lines of it. It could be theone he and Telt had used, but he wasn't sure. He looked around, butthe dusty, packed-dirt street was white and empty, shimmering insilence under the sun. Staying close to the wall and watchingcarefully, Brion slipped towards the car. When he came close behindit he was positive it was the one he had been in the night before. What was it doing here?

Silence and heat filled the street. Windows and doors were empty, and there was no motion in their shadows. Putting his foot on abogey wheel, he reached up and grabbed the searing metal rim of theopen window. He pulled himself up and stared at Telt's smiling face. 

Smiling in death. The lips pulled back to reveal the grinning teeth, the eyes bursting from the head, the features swollen and contortedfrom the deadly poison. A tiny, tufted dart of wood stuck in thebrown flesh on the side of his neck. 

XV

Brion hurled himself backward and sprawled flat in the dust andfilth of the road. No poison dart sought him out; the empty silencestill reigned. Telt's murderers had come and gone. Moving quickly, using the bulk of the car as a shield, he opened the door andslipped inside. 

They had done a thorough job of destruction. All of the controls hadbeen battered into uselessness, the floor was a junk heap of crushedequipment, intertwined with loops of recording tape bulging likemechanical intestines. A gutted machine, destroyed like its driver. 

It was easy enough to reconstruct what had happened. The car hadbeen seen when they entered the city--probably by some of the magterwho had destroyed the Foundation building. They had not seen whereit had gone, or Brion would surely be dead by now. But they musthave spotted it when Telt tried to leave the city--and stopped it inthe most effective way possible, a dart through the open window intothe unsuspecting driver's neck. 

Telt dead! The brutal impact of the man's death had driven allthought of its consequences from Brion's mind. Now he began torealize. Telt had never sent word of his discovery of theradioactive trace to the Nyjord army. He had been afraid to usethe radio, and had wanted to tell Hys in person, and to show himthe tape. Only now the tape was torn and mixed with all the others, the brain that could have analyzed it dead. 

Brion looked at the dangling entrails of the radio and spun for thedoor. Running swiftly and erratically, he fled from the sand car. His own survival and the possible survival of Dis depended on hisnot being seen near it. He must contact Hys and pass on theinformation. Until he did that, he was the only offworlder on Diswho knew which magter tower might contain the world-destroyingbombs. 

Once out of sight of the sand car he went more slowly, wiping thesweat from his streaming face. He hadn't been seen leaving the car, and he wasn't being followed. The streets here weren't familiar, buthe checked his direction by the sun and walked at a steady fast pacetowards the destroyed building. More of the native Disans were inthe streets now. They all noticed him, some even stopped and scowledfiercely at him. With his emphatic awareness he felt their anger andhatred. A knot of men radiated death, and he put his hand on his gunas he passed them. Two of them had their blowguns ready, but didn'tuse them. By the time he had turned the next corner he was soakedwith nervous perspiration. 

Ahead was the rubble of the destroyed building. Grounded next to itwas the tapered form of a spacer's pinnace. Two men had come fromthe open lock and were standing at the edge of the burnt area. 

Brion's boots grated loudly on the broken wreckage. The men turnedquickly towards him, guns raised. Both of them carried ion rifles. They relaxed when they saw his offworld clothes. 

"Bloody damned savages!" one of them growled. He was a heavy-planetman, a squashed-down column of muscle and gristle, whose head barelyreached Brion's chest. A pushed-back cap had the crossed slide-rulesymbol of ship's computer man. 

"Can't blame them, I guess, " the second man said. He wore purser'sinsignia. His features were different, but with the same compactedbody the two men were as physically alike as twins. Probably fromthe same home planet. "They're gonna get their whole world blown outfrom under them at midnight. Looks as if the poor slob in thestreets finally realized what is happening. Hope we're in jump-spaceby then. I saw Estrada's World get it, and I don't want to see thatagain, not twice in one lifetime!"

The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sidewaysto see his face. "You need transportation offworld?" he asked. "We're the last ship at the port, and we're going to boil out ofhere as soon as the rest of our cargo is aboard. We'll give youa lift if you need it. "

Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal thedestroying sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at thatshattered wasteland, the graveyard of so many. "No, " he said. "That won't be necessary. I'm in touch with the blockading fleetand they'll pick me up before midnight. "

"You from Nyjord?" the purser growled. 

"No, " Brion said, still only half aware of the men. "But there istrouble with my own ship. " He realized that they were lookingintently at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation. "I thought I could find a way to stop the war. Now . .. I'm not sosure. " He hadn't intended to be so frank with the spacemen, but thewords had been uppermost in his thoughts and had simply slipped out. 

The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate spearedhim in the side with his elbow. "We blast soon--and I don't like theway these Disans are looking at us. The captain said to find outwhat caused the fire, then get the hell back. So let's go. "

"Don't miss your ship, " the computer man said to Brion, andhe started for the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. "Surethere's nothing we can do for you?"

Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregsof emotion from his mind and to think clearly. "You can help me, "he said. "I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instrumentyou might have. " Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt'sundelivered message. "Do you have a portable radio transceiver?I can pay you for it. "

The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minutelater with a small package. "There's a scalpel and a magnetizedtweezers in here--all I could find in the med kit. Hope they'll do. "He reached inside and swung out the metal case of a self-containedtransceiver. "Take this, it's got plenty of range, even on thelonger frequencies. "

He raised his hand at Brion's offer to pay. "My donation, " he said. "If you can save this planet I'll give you the whole pinnace aswell. We'll tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble withthe natives. Isn't that right, Moneybags?" He prodded the purserin the chest with a finger that would have punched a hole througha weaker man. 

"I read you loud and clear, " the purser said. "I'll make out aninvoice so stating, back in the ship. " They were both in the pinnacethen, and Brion had to move fast to get clear of the takeoff blast. 

A sense of obligation--the spacemen had felt it too. The realizationof this raised Brion's spirits a bit as he searched through therubble for anything useful. He recognized part of a wall stillstanding as a corner of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins, heunearthed broken instruments and a single, battered case that hadbarely missed destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, theright tube bent, its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiecestill seemed to be functioning. Brion carefully put it back in thecase. 

He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. These few pieces ofequipment would have to do for the dissection. Watched suspiciouslyby the onlooking Disans, he started back to the warehouse. It was along, circuitous walk, since he didn't dare give any clues to hisdestination. Only when he was positive he had not been observed orfollowed did he slip through the building's entrance, locking thedoor behind him. 

Lea's frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. "Afriendly smile here among the cannibals, " she called. Her strainedexpression gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. "What hashappened? Since I woke up, the great stone face over there"--shepointed to Ulv--"has been telling me exactly nothing. "

"What's the last thing you can remember?" Brion asked carefully. He didn't want to tell her too much, lest this bring on the shockagain. Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her. 

"If you must know, " Lea said, "I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd. I shan't go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept fromthe natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep afteryou left. And nothing since then. It's weird. I went to sleep inthat lumpy hospital bed and woke up on this couch, feeling simplyterrible. With _him_ just sitting there and scowling at me. Won'tyou please tell me what is going on?"

A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he couldfor later. "The magter attacked the Foundation building, " he said. "They are getting angry at all offworlders now. You were stillknocked out by a sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It'safternoon now--"

"Of the last day?" She sounded horrified. "While I'm playingSleeping Beauty the world is coming to an end! Was anyone hurtin the attack? Or killed?"

"There were a number of casualties--and plenty of trouble, " Brionsaid. He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse, he threw back the cover from its face. "But this is more importantright now. It's one of the magter. I have a scalpel and some otherthings here--will you perform an autopsy?"

Lea huddled back on the couch, her arms around herself, lookingchilled in spite of the heat of the day. "What happened to thepeople at the building?" she asked in a thin voice. The injectionhad removed her memories of the tragedy, but echoes of the strainand shock still reverberated in her mind and body. "I feel so . .. Exhausted. Please tell me what happened. I have the feeling you'rehiding something. "

Brion sat next to her and took her hands in his, not surprised tofind them cold. Looking into her eyes, he tried to give her some ofhis strength. "It wasn't very nice, " he said. "You were shaken up byit, I imagine that's why you feel the way you do now. But--Lea, you'll have to take my word for this. Don't ask any more questions. There's nothing we can do now about it. But we can still find outabout the magter. Will you examine the corpse?"

She started to ask something, then changed her mind. When shedropped her eyes Brion felt the thin shiver that went through herbody. "There's something terribly wrong, " she said. "I know that. I guess I'll have to take your word that it's best not to askquestions. Help me up, will you, darling? My legs are absolutelyliquid. "

Leaning on him, with his arm around her supporting most of herweight, she went slowly across to the corpse. She looked down andshuddered. "Not what you would call a natural death, " she said. Ulv watched intently as she took the scalpel out of its holder. "You don't have to look at this, " she told him in halting Disan. "Not if you don't want to. "

"I want to, " he told her, not taking his eyes from the body. "I have never seen a magter dead before, or without covering, like an ordinary person. " He continued to stare fixedly. 

"Find me some drinking water, will you, Brion?" Lea said. "Andspread the tarp under the body. These things are quite messy. "

After drinking the water she seemed stronger, and could standwithout holding onto the table with both hands. Placing the tip ofthe scalpel just below the magter's breast bone, she made the longpost-mortem incision down to the pubic symphysis. The great, body-length wound gaped open like a red mouth. Across the table Ulvshuddered but didn't avert his eyes. 

One by one she removed the internal organs. Once she looked up atBrion, then quickly returned to work. The silence stretched on andon until Brion had to break it. 

"Tell me, can't you? Have you found out anything?"

His words snapped the thin strand of her strength, and she staggeredback to the couch and collapsed onto it. Her bloodstained hands hungover the side, making a strangely terrible contrast to the whitenessof her skin. 

"I'm sorry, Brion, " she said. "But there's nothing, nothing at all. There are minor differences, organic changes I've never seenbefore--his liver is tremendous, for one thing. But changes likethis are certainly consistent within the pattern of homo sapiensas adapted to a different planet. He's a man. Changed, adapted, modified--but still just as human as you or I. "

"How can you be sure?" Brion broke in. "You haven't examined himcompletely, have you?" She shook her head. "Then go on. The otherorgans. His brain. A microscopic examination. Here!" he said, pushing the microscope case towards her with both hands. 

She dropped her head onto her forearms and sobbed. "Leave me alone, can't you! I'm tired and sick and fed up with this awful planet. Letthem die. I don't care! Your theory is false, useless. Admit that!And let me wash the filth from my hands. .. . " Sobbing drowned out herwords. 

Brion stood over her and drew a shuddering breath. Was he wrong? Hedidn't dare think about that. He had to go on. Looking down at thethinness of her bent back, with the tiny projections of her spineshowing through the thin cloth, he felt an immense pity--a pity hecouldn't surrender to. This thin, helpless, frightened woman washis only resource. She had to work. He had to _make_ her work. 

Ihjel had done it--used projective empathy to impress his emotionsupon Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. He had had some sessionsin the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient. Nevertheless he had to try. 

Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply, "You can do it. You have the will and the strength to finish. " And silently his mindcried out the order to obey, to share his power now that hers wasdrained and finished. 

Only when she lifted her face and he saw the dried tears did herealize that he had succeeded. "You will go on?" he asked quietly. 

Lea merely nodded and rose to her feet. She shuffled like asleepwalker jerked along by invisible strings. Her strength wasn'ther own, and the situation reminded him unhappily of that last eventof the Twenties when he had experienced the same kind of drainingactivity. She wiped her hands roughly on her clothes and openedthe microscope case. 

"The slides are all broken, " she said. 

"This will do, " Brion told her, crashing his heel through the glasspartition. Shards tinkled and crashed to the floor. He took some ofthe bigger pieces and broke them to rough squares that would fitunder the clips on the stage. Lea accepted them without a word. Putting a drop of the magter's blood on the slide, she bent over theeyepiece. 

Her hands shook when she tried to adjust the focusing. Using lowpower, she examined the specimen, squinting through the angled tube. Once she turned the sub-stage mirror a bit to catch the lightstreaming in the window. Brion stood behind her, fists clenched, forceably controlling his anxiety. "What do you see?" he finallyblurted out. 

"Phagocytes, platelets . .. Leucocytes . .. Everything seems normal. "Her voice was dull, exhausted, her eyes blinking with fatigue asshe stared into the tube. 

Anger at defeat burned through Brion. Even faced with failure, herefused to accept it. He reached over her shoulder and savagelytwisted the turret of microscope until the longest lens was inposition. "If you can't see anything--try the high power! It'sthere--I know it's there! I'll get you a tissue specimen. "He turned back to the disemboweled cadaver. 

His back was turned and he did not see that sudden stiffening of hershoulders, or the sudden eagerness that seized her fingers as theyadjusted the focus. But he did feel the wave of emotion that welledfrom her, impinging directly on his empathetic sense. "What is it?"he called to her, as if she had spoken aloud. 

"Something . .. Something here, " she said, "in this leucocyte. It'snot normal structure, but it's familiar. I've seen something like itbefore, but I just can't remember. " She turned away from themicroscope and unthinkingly pressed her gory knuckles to herforehead. "I know I've seen it before. "

Brion squinted into the deserted microscope and made out a dim shapein the center of the field. It stood out sharply when hefocused--the white, jellyfish shape of a single-celled leucocyte. Tohis untrained eye there was nothing unusual about it. He couldn'tknow what was strange, when he had no idea of what was normal. 

"Do you see those spherical green shapes grouped together?" Leaasked. Before Brion could answer she gasped, "I remember now!" Herfatigue was forgotten in her excitement. "_Icerya purchasi_, thatwas the name, something like that. It's a coccid, a little scaleinsect. It had those same shapes collected together within itsindividual cells. "

"What do they mean? What is the connection with Dis?"

"I don't know, " she said; "it's just that they look so similar. AndI never saw anything like this in a human cell before. In thecoccids, the green particles grow into a kind of yeast that liveswithin the insect. Not a parasite, but a real symbiote. .. . "

Her eyes opened wide as she caught the significance of her ownwords. A symbiote--and Dis was the world where symbiosis andparasitism had become more advanced and complex than on any otherplanet. Lea's thoughts spun around this fact and chewed at thefringes of the logic. Brion could sense her concentration andabsorption. He did nothing to break the mood. Her hands wereclenched, her eyes staring unseeingly at the wall as her mind raced. 

Brion and Ulv were quiet, watching her, waiting for her conclusions. The pieces were falling into shape at last. 

Lea opened her clenched hands and smoothed them on her sodden skirt. She blinked and turned to Brion. "Is there a tool box here?" she asked. 

Her words were so unexpected that Brion could not answer for amoment. Before he could say anything she spoke again. 

"Not hand tools; that would take too long. Could you find anythinglike a power saw? That would be ideal. " She turned back to themicroscope, and he didn't try to question her. Ulv was still lookingat the body of the magter and had understood nothing of what theyhad said. 

Brion went out into the loading bay. There was nothing he could useon the ground floor, so he took the stairs to the floor above. Acorridor here passed by a number of rooms. All of the doors werelocked, including one with the hopeful sign TOOL ROOM on it. Hebattered at the metal door with his shoulder without budging it. Ashe stepped back to look for another way in, he glanced at his watch. 

Two o'clock! In ten hours the bombs would fall on Dis. 

The need for haste tore at him. Yet there could be no noise--someonein the street might hear it. He quickly stripped off his shirt andwrapped it in a loose roll around the barrel of his gun, extendingit in a loose tube in front of the barrel. Holding the rolled clothin his left hand, he jammed the gun up tight against the door, themuzzle against the lock. The single shot was only a dull thud, inaudible outside of the building. Pieces of broken mechanism jarredand rattled inside the lock and the door swung open. 

When he came back Lea was standing by the body. He held the smallpower saw with a rotary blade. "Will this do?" he asked. "Runs onits own battery; almost fully charged too. "

"Perfect, " she answered. "You're both going to have to help me. " Sheswitched into the Disan language. "Ulv, would you find some placewhere you can watch the street without being seen? Signal me whenit is empty. I'm afraid this saw is going to make a lot of noise. "

Ulv nodded and went out into the bay, where he climbed a heap ofempty crates so he could peer through the small windows set high inthe wall. He looked carefully in both directions, then waved to herto go ahead. 

"Stand to one side and hold the cadaver's chin, Brion, " she said. "Hold it firmly so the head doesn't shake around when I cut. Thisis going to be a little gruesome. I'm sorry. But it'll be thefastest way to cut the bone. " The saw bit into the skull. 

Once Ulv waved them into silence, and shrank back himself into theshadows next to the window. They waited impatiently until he gavethem the sign to continue again. Brion held steady while the sawcut a circle completely around the skull. 

"Finished, " Lea said and the saw dropped from her limp fingers tothe floor. She massaged life back into her hands before she finishedthe job. Carefully and delicately she removed the cap of bone fromthe magter's head, exposing his brain to the shaft of light fromthe window. 

"You were right all the time, Brion, " she said. "There is your alien. "

XVI

Ulv joined them as they looked down at the exposed brain of themagter. The thing was so clearly evident that even Ulv noticed it. 

"I have seen dead animals and my people dead with their heads open, but I have never seen anything like that before, " he said. 

"What is it?" Brion asked. 

"The invader, the alien you were looking for, " Lea told him. 

The magter's brain was only two-thirds of what would have been itsnormal size. Instead of filling the skull completely, it shared thespace with a green, amorphous shape. This was ridged somewhat like abrain, but the green shape had still darker nodules and extensions. Lea took her scalpel and gently prodded the dark moist mass. 

"It reminds me very much of something that I've seen before onEarth, " she said. "The green-fly--_Drepanosiphum platanoides_--andan unusual organ it has, called the pseudova. Now that I have seenthis growth in the magter's skull, I can think of a positiveparallel. The fly _Drepanosiphum_ also had a large green organ, onlyit fills half of the body cavity instead of the head. Its identitypuzzled biologists for years, and they had a number of complextheories to explain it. Finally someone managed to dissect andexamine it. The pseudova turned out to be a living plant, ayeastlike growth that helps with the green-fly's digestion. Itproduces enzymes that enable the fly to digest the great amountsof sugar it gets from plant juice. "

"That's not unusual, " Brion said, puzzled. "Termites and humanbeings are a couple of other creatures whose digestion is helpedby internal flora. What's the difference in the green-fly?"

"Reproduction, mainly. All the other gut-living plants have to enterthe host and establish themselves as outsiders, permitted to remainas long as they are useful. The green-fly and its yeast plant have apermanent symbiotic relationship that is essential to the existenceof both. The plant spores appear in many places throughout the fly'sbody--but they are _always_ in the germ cells. Every egg cell hassome, and every egg that grows to maturity is infected with theplant spores. The continuation of the symbiosis is unbroken andguaranteed. "

"Do you think those green spheres in the magter's blood cells couldbe the same kind of thing?" Brion asked. 

"I'm sure of it, " Lea said. "It must be the same process. There areprobably green spheres throughout the magters' bodies, spores oroffspring of those things in their brains. Enough will find theirway to the germ cells to make sure that every young magter isinfected at birth. While the child is growing, so is the symbiote. Probably a lot faster, since it seems to be a simpler organism. I imagine it is well established in the brain pan within the firstsix months of the infant's life. "

"But why?" Brion asked. "What does it do?"

"I'm only guessing now, but there is plenty of evidence that givesus an idea of its function. I'm willing to bet that the symbioteitself is not a simple organism, it's probably an amalgam of plantand animal like most of the other creatures on Dis. The thing isjust too complex to have developed since mankind has been on thisplanet. The magter must have caught the symbiotic infection eatingsome Disan animal. The symbiote lived and flourished in its newenvironment, well protected by a bony skull in a long-lived host. In exchange for food, oxygen and comfort, the brain-symbiote mustgenerate hormones and enzymes that enable the magter to survive. Some of these might aid digestion, enabling the magter to eat anyplant or animal life they can lay their hands on. The symbiote mightproduce sugars, scavenge the blood of toxins--there are so manythings it could do. Things it must have done, since the magter areobviously the dominant life form on this planet. They paid a highprice for the symbiote, but it didn't matter to race survival untilnow. Did you notice that the magter's brain is no smaller thannormal?"

"It must be--or how else could that brain-symbiote fit in insidethe skull with it?" Brion said. 

"If the magter's total brain were smaller in volume than normalit could fit into the remaining space in the cranial hollow. Butthe brain is full-sized--it is just that part of it is missing, absorbed by the symbiote. "

"The frontal lobes, " Brion said with sudden realization. "This hellish growth has performed a prefrontal lobotomy!"

"It's done even more than that, " Lea said, separating theconvolutions of the gray matter with her scalpel to uncover a greenfilament beneath. "These tendrils penetrate further back into thebrain, but always remain in the cerebrum. The cerebellum appears tobe untouched. Apparently just the higher functions of mankind havebeen interfered with, selectively. Destruction of the frontal lobesmade the magter creatures without emotions or ability for reallyabstract thought. Apparently they survived better without these. There must have been some horrible failures before the right balancewas struck. The final product is a man-plant-animal symbiote that isadmirably adapted for survival on this disaster world. No emotionsto cause complications or desires that might interfere with puresurvival. Complete ruthlessness--mankind has always been strong onthis anyway, so it didn't take much of a push. "

"The other Disans, like Ulv here, managed to survive without turninginto such a creature. So why was it necessary for the magter to goso far?"

"Nothing is necessary in evolution, you know that, " Lea said. "Manyvariations are possible, and all the better ones continue. You mightsay that Ulv's people survive, but the magter survive better. Ifoffworld contact hadn't been re-established, I imagine that themagter would slowly have become the dominant race. Only they won'thave the chance now. It looks as though they have succeeded indestroying both races with their suicidal urge. "

"That's the part that doesn't make sense, " Brion said. "The magterhave survived and climbed right to the top of the evolutionary heaphere. Yet they are suicidal. How does it happen they haven't beenwiped out before this?"

"Individually, they have been aggressive to the point of suicide. They will attack anything and everything with the same savage lackof emotion. Luckily there are no bigger animals on this planet. Sowhere they have died as individuals, their utter ruthlessness hasguaranteed their survival as a group. Now they are faced with aproblem that is too big for their half-destroyed minds to handle. Their personal policy has become their planetary policy--and that'snever a very smart thing. They are like men with knives who havekilled all the men who were only armed with stones. Now they arefacing men with guns, and they are going to keep charging andfighting until they are all dead. 

"It's a perfect case of the utter impartiality of the forces ofevolution. Men infected by this Disan life form were the dominantcreatures on this planet. The creature in the magters' brains was atrue symbiote then, giving something and receiving something, makinga union of symbiotes where all were stronger together than any couldbe separately. Now this is changed. The magter brain cannotunderstand the concept of racial death, in a situation where it mustunderstand to be able to survive. Therefore the brain-creature is nolonger a symbiote but a parasite. "

"And as a parasite it must be destroyed!" Brion broke in. "We're notfighting shadows any more, " he exulted. "We've found the enemy--andit's not the magter at all. Just a sort of glorified tapeworm thatis too stupid to know when it is killing itself off. Does it havea brain--can it think?"

"I doubt it very much, " Lea said. "A brain would be of absolutely nouse to it. So even if it originally possessed reasoning powers theywould be gone by now. Symbiotes or parasites that live internallylike this always degenerate to an absolute minimum of functions. "

"Tell me about it. What is this thing?" Ulv broke in, prodding thesoft form of the brain-symbiote. He had heard all their excited talkbut had not understood a word. 

"Explain it to him, will you, Lea, as best you can, " Brion said, looking at her, and he realized how exhausted she was. "And sit downwhile you do it; you're long overdue for a rest. I'm going to try--"He broke off when he looked at his watch. 

It was after four in the afternoon--less than eight hours to go. What was he to do? Enthusiasm faded as he realized that only half ofthe problem was solved. The bombs would drop on schedule unless theNyjorders could understand the significance of this discovery. Evenif they understood, would it make any difference to them? The threatof the hidden cobalt bombs would not be changed. 

With this thought came the guilty realization that he had forgottencompletely about Telt's death. Even before he contacted the Nyjordfleet he must tell Hys and his rebel army what had happened to Teltand his sand car. Also about the radioactive traces. They couldn'tbe checked against the records now to see how important they mightbe, but Hys might make another raid on the strength of thesuspicion. This call wouldn't take long, then he would be freeto tackle Professor-Commander Krafft. 

Carefully setting the transmitter on the frequency of the rebelarmy, he sent out a call to Hys. There was no answer. When heswitched to receive all he heard was static. 

There was always a chance the set was broken. He quickly twisted thetransmitter to the frequency of his personal radio, then whistled inthe microphone. The received signal was so loud that it hurt hisears. He tried to call Hys again, and was relieved to get a responsethis time. 

"Brion Brandd here. Can you read me? I want to talk to Hys at once. "

It came as a shock that it was Professor-Commander Krafft who answered. 

"I'm sorry, Brion, but it's impossible to talk to Hys. We aremonitoring his frequency and your call was relayed to me. Hys andhis rebels lifted ship about half an hour ago, and are already onthe way back to Nyjord. Are you ready to leave now? It will soonbecome dangerous to make any landings. Even now I will have to askfor volunteers to get you out of there. "

Hys and the rebel army gone! Brion assimilated the thought. He hadbeen thrown off balance when he realized he was talking to Krafft. 

"If they're gone--well, then there's nothing I can do about it, " hesaid. "I was going to call you, so I can talk to you now. Listen andtry to understand. You must cancel the bombing. I've found out aboutthe magter, found what causes their mental aberration. If we cancorrect that, we can stop them from attacking Nyjord--"

"Can they be corrected by midnight tonight?" Krafft broke in. He wasabrupt and sounded almost angry. Even saints get tired. 

"No, of course not. " Brion frowned at the microphone, realizing thetalk was going all wrong, but not knowing how to remedy it. "But itwon't take too long. I have evidence here that will convince youthat what I say is the truth. "

"I believe you without seeing it, Brion. " The trace of anger wasgone from Krafft's voice now, and it was heavy with fatigue anddefeat. "I'll admit you are probably right. A little while agoI admitted to Hys too that he was probably right in his originalestimation of the correct way to tackle the problem of Dis. We havemade a lot of mistakes, and in making them we have run out of time. I'm afraid that is the only fact that is relevant now. The bombsfall at twelve, and even then they may drop too late. A ship isalready on its way from Nyjord with my replacement. I exceeded myauthority by running a day past the maximum the technicians gave me. I realize now I was gambling the life of my own world in the vainhope I could save Dis. They can't be saved. They're dead. I won'thear any more about it. "

"You must listen--"

"I must destroy the planet below me, that is what I must do. That fact will not be changed by anything you say. All theoffworlders--other than your party--are gone. I'm sending a shipdown now to pick you up. As soon as that ship lifts I am going todrop the first bombs. Now--tell me where you are so they can comefor you. "

"Don't threaten me, Krafft!" Brion shook his fist at the radio in anexcess of anger. "You're a killer and a world destroyer--don't tryto make yourself out as anything else. I have the knowledge to avertthis slaughter and you won't listen to me. And I know where thecobalt bombs are--in the magter tower that Hys raided last night. Get those bombs and there is no need to drop any of your own!"

"I'm sorry, Brion. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but at thesame time I know the futility of it. I'm not going to accuse you oflying, but do you realize how thin your evidence sounds from thisend? First, a dramatic discovery of the cause of the magters'intransigency. Then, when that had no results, you suddenly rememberthat you know where the bombs are. The best-kept magter secret. "

"I don't know for sure, but there is a very good chance it is so, "Brion said, trying to repair his defenses. "Telt made readings, hehad other records of radioactivity in this same magter keep--proofthat something is there. But Telt is dead now, the recordsdestroyed. Don't you see--" He broke off, realizing how vague andunprovable his case was. This was defeat. 

The radio was silent, with just the hum of the carrier wave asKrafft waited for him to continue. When Brion did speak his voicewas empty of all hope. 

"Send your ship down, " he said tiredly. "We're in a building thatbelonged to the Light Metals Trust, Ltd. , a big warehouse of somekind. I don't know the address here, but I'm sure you have someonethere who can find it. We'll be waiting for you. You win, Krafft. "

He turned off the radio. 

XVII

"Do you mean what you said, about giving up?" Lea asked. Brionrealized that she had stopped talking to Ulv some time ago, and hadbeen listening to his conversation with Krafft. He shrugged, tryingto put his feeling into words. 

"We've tried--and almost succeeded. But if they won't listen, whatcan we do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded withH-bombs?"

As if in answer to the question, Ulv's voice drowned him out, the harsh Disan words slashing the silence of the room. 

"Kill you, the enemy!" he said. "Kill you _umedvirk_!"

He shouted the last word and his hand flashed to his belt. In asingle swift motion he lifted his blowgun and placed it to his lips. A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature inthe magter's skull. The action had all the symbolism of a brokenlance, the declaration of war. 

"Ulv understands it a lot better than you might think, " Lea said. "He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would get hima job as a lecturer in any university on Earth. He knows just whatthe brain-symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it, one that never appeared in our Disan language lessons. A life formthat you can live with or cooperate with is called _medvirk_. Onethat works to destroy you is _umedvirk_. He also understands thatlife forms can change, and be _medvirk_ or _umedvirk_ at differenttimes. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is _umedvirk_and he is out to kill it. So will the rest of the Disans as soon ashe can show them the evidence and explain. "

"You're sure of this?" Brion asked, interested in spite of himself. 

"Positive. The Disans have an absolute attitude towards survival;you should realize that. Not the same as the magter, but not muchdifferent in the results. They will kill the brain-symbiotes, evenif it means killing every magter who harbors one. "

"If that is the case we can't leave now, " Brion said. With thesewords it suddenly became clear what he had to do. "The ship iscoming down now from the fleet. Get in it and take the body ofthe magter. I won't go. "

"Where will you be?" she asked, shocked. 

"Fighting the magter. My presence on the planet means that Krafftwon't keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than themidnight deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubtif my presence past midnight will stop him, but it should keep thebombs away at least until then. "

"What will you accomplish besides committing suicide?" Lea pleaded. "You just told me how a single man can't stop the bombs. What willhappen to you at midnight?"

"I'll be dead--but in spite of that I can't run away. Not now. I must do everything possible right up until the last instant. Ulvand I will go to the magter tower, try to find out if the bombs arethere. He will fight on our side now. He may even know more aboutthe bombs, things that he didn't want to tell me before. We can gethelp from his people. Some of them must know where the bombs are, being native to this planet. "

Lea started to say something, but he rushed on, drowning out her words. 

"You have just as big a job. Show the magter to Krafft, explain thesignificance of the brain-parasite to him. Try to get him to talk toHys about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'llkeep the radio with me and as soon as I know anything I'll call in. This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff, but it isall we can do. Because if we do nothing, it means the end of Dis. "

Lea tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen to her. He onlykissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convinceher that everything would be all right. In their hearts they bothknew it wouldn't be but they left it that way because it was theleast painful solution. 

A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened asa ship settled in the street outside. The Nyjord crew came in withguns pointed, alert for anything. 

After a little convincing they took the cadaver, as well as Lea, when they lifted ship. Brion watched the spacer become a pinpoint inthe sky and vanish. He tried to shake off the feeling that this wasthe last time he would see any of them. 

"Let's get out of here fast, " he told Ulv, picking up the radio, "before anyone comes around to see why the ship landed. "

"What will you do?" Ulv asked as they went down the street towardsthe desert. "What can we do in the few hours we have left?" Hepointed at the sun, nearing the horizon. Brion shifted the weightof the radio to his other hand before replying. 

"Get to the magter tower we raided last night, that's the best chance. The bombs might be there. .. . Unless you know where the bombs are?"

Ulv shook his head. "I do not know, but some of my people may. We will capture a magter, then kill him, so they can all seethe _umedvirk_. Then they will tell us everything they know. "

"The tower first then, for bombs or a sample magter. What's thefastest way we can get there?"

Ulv frowned in thought. "If you can drive one of the cars theoffworlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildingsin this city. None of my people know how they are made to move. "

"I can work them--let's go. "

Chance was with them this time. The first sand car they found stillhad the keys in the lock. It was battery-powered, but containeda full charge. Much quieter than the heavy atomic cars, it spedsmoothly out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sunsank in a red wave of color. It was six o'clock. By the time theyreached the tower it was seven, and Brion's nerves felt as if theywere writhing under his skin. 

Even though it looked like suicide, attacking the tower broughtblessed relief. It was movement and action, and for moments ata time he forgot the bombs hanging over his head. 

The attack was nerve-rackingly anticlimactic. They used the mainentrance, Ulv ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight. Once inside, they crept down towards the lower rooms where theradiation had been detected. Only gradually did they realize thatthe magter tower was completely empty. 

"Everyone gone, " Ulv grunted, sniffing the air in every room thatthey passed. "Many magter were here earlier, but they are gone now. "

"Do they often desert their towers?" Brion asked. 

"Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think ofno reason why they should do a thing like this. "

"Well, I can, " Brion told him. "They would leave their home if theytook something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombswere hidden here, they might move them after the attack. " Suddenfear hit him. "Or they might move them because it is time to takethem--to the launcher! Let's get out of here, the quickest way wecan. "

"I smell air from outside, " Ulv said, "coming from down there. Thiscannot be, because the magter have no entrances this low in theirtowers. "

"We blasted one in earlier--that could be it. Can you find it?"

Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor, and stars were visible through the gaping opening in the wall. 

"It looks bigger than it was, " Brion said, "as if the magter hadenlarged it. " He looked through and saw the tracks on the sandoutside. "As if they had enlarged it to bring something bulky upfrom below--and carried it away in whatever made those tracks!"

Using the opening themselves, they ran back to the sand car. Brionground it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks. There were the marks of a sand car's treads, half obscured by thin, unmarked wheel tracks. He turned off the lights and forced himselfto move slowly and to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse at hiswatch showed him there were four hours left to go. The moonlight wasbright enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand, heturned on the radio transmitter, already set for Krafft's wavelength. 

When the operator acknowledged his signal Brion reported what theyhad discovered and his conclusions. "Get that message to CommanderKrafft now. I can't wait to talk to him--I'm following the tracks. "He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The sandcar churned and bounced down the track. 

"They are going to the mountains, " Ulv said some time later, as thetracks still pointed straight ahead. "There are caves there and manymagter have been seen near them; that is what I have heard. "

The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the ground humped into arange of foothills, and the darker masses of mountains could be seenbehind them, rising up to obscure the stars. 

"Stop the car here, " Ulv said, "The caves begin not too far ahead. There may be magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly. "

Brion followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulv cameand went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hiddenwatchers. As far as he could discover there were none. 

By nine-thirty Brion realized they had deserted the sand car toosoon. The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. Theypassed some caves which Ulv pointed out to him, but the tracks neverstopped. Time was running out and the nightmare stumbling throughthe darkness continued. 

"More caves ahead, " Ulv said, "Go quietly. "

They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they had done somany times already, and looked into the shallow valley beyond. Sandcovered the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shoneover the tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as linesof shadow. They ran straight across the sandy valley and disappearedinto the dark mouth of a cave on the far side. 

Sinking back behind the hilltop, Brion covered the pilot light withhis hand and turned on the transmitter. Ulv stayed above him, staring at the opening of the cave. 

"This is an important message, " Brion whispered into the mike. "Please record. " He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing athis watch to make sure of the time, since the seconds of waitingstretched to minutes in his brain. Then, as clearly as possiblewithout raising his voice above a whisper, he told of the discoveryof the tracks and the cave. 

". .. The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in tofind out. I'll leave my personal transmitter here with the broadcastpower turned on, so you can home on its signal. That will give youa directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the other radioin--it has more power. If we can't get back to the entrance I'll trya signal from inside. I doubt if you will hear it because of therock, but I'll try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer mebecause I have the receiver turned off. There are no earphones onthis set and the speaker would be too loud here. "

He switched off, held his thumb on the button for an instant, thenflicked it back on. 

"Good-by Lea, " he said, and killed the power for good. 

They circled and reached the rocky wall of the cliff. Creepingsilently in the shadows, they slipped up on the dark entrance of thecave. Nothing moved ahead and there was no sound from the entranceof the cave. Brion glanced at his watch and was instantly sorry. 

Ten-thirty. 

The last shelter concealing them was five metres from the cave. Theystarted to rise, to rush the final distance, when Ulv suddenly wavedBrion down. He pointed to his nose, then to the cave. He could smellthe magter there. 

A dark figure separated itself from the greater darkness of the cavemouth. Ulv acted instantly. He stood up and his hand went to hismouth; air hissed faintly through the tube in his hand. Without asound the magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the body hit, Ulv crouched low and rushed in. There was the sudden scuffling offeet on the floor, then silence. 

Brion walked in, gun ready and alert, not knowing what he wouldfind. His toe pushed against a body on the ground and from thedarkness Ulv whispered, "There were only two. We can go on now. "

Finding their way through the cave was a maddening torture. They hadno light, nor would they dare use one if they had. There were nowheel marks to follow on the stone floor. Without Ulv's sensitivenose they would have been completely lost. The cave branched andrejoined and they soon lost all sense of direction. 

Walking was almost impossible. They had to grope with their handsbefore them like blind men. Stumbling and falling against the rock, their fingers were soon throbbing and raw from brushing against therough walls. Ulv followed the scent of the magter that hung in theair where they had passed. When it grew thin he knew they had leftthe frequently used tunnels and entered deserted ones. They couldonly retrace their steps and start again in a different direction. 

More maddening than the walking was the way time was running out. Inexorably the glowing hands crept around the face of Brion's watchuntil they stood at fifteen minutes before twelve. 

"There is a light ahead, " Ulv whispered, and Brion almost gaspedwith relief. They moved slowly and silently until they stood, concealed by the darkness, looking out into a domed chamber brightlylit by glowing tubes. 

"What is it?" Ulv asked, blinking in the painful wash ofillumination after the long darkness. 

Brion had to fight to control his voice, to stop from shouting. 

"The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space generator. Thepointed, silver shapes next to it are bombs of some kind, probablythe cobalt bombs. We've found it!"

His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call that wouldstop the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But an unconvincing messagewould be worse than no message at all. He had to describe exactlywhat he saw here so the Nyjorders would know he wasn't lying. Whathe told them had to fit exactly with the information they alreadyhad about the launcher and the bombs. 

The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's jump-spacegenerator; that was obvious. The generator and its controls wereneatly cased and mounted. Cables ran from them to a roughlyconstructed cage of woven metal straps, hammered and bent into shapeby hand. Three technicians were working on the equipment. Brionwondered what sort of blood-thirsty war-lovers the magter had foundto handle the bombing for them. Then he saw the chains around theirnecks and the bloody wounds on their backs. 

He still found it difficult to have any pity for them. They hadobviously been willing to accept money to destroy another planet--orthey wouldn't have been working here. They had probably rebelledonly when they had discovered how suicidal the attack would be. 

Thirteen minutes to midnight. 

Cradling the radio against his chest, Brion rose to his feet. He hada better view of the bombs now. There were twelve of them, alike aseggs from the same deadly clutch. Pointed like the bow of a spacer, each one swept smoothly back for its two metres of length, to asharply chopped-off end. They were obviously incomplete, the warheads of rockets. One had its base turned towards him, and he sawsix projecting studs that could be used to attach it to the missingrocket. A circular inspection port was open in the flat base of thebomb. 

This was enough. With this description, the Nyjorders would know hecouldn't be lying about finding the bombs. Once they realized this, they couldn't destroy Dis without first trying to neutralize them. 

Brion carefully counted fifty paces before he stopped. He was farenough from the cavern so he couldn't be heard, and an angle of thecave cut off all light from behind him. With carefully controlledmovements he turned on the power, switched the set to transmit, and checked the broadcast frequency. All correct. Then slowly andclearly, he described what he had seen in the cavern behind him. Hekept his voice emotionless, recounting facts, leaving out anythingthat might be considered an opinion. 

It was six minutes before midnight when he finished. He thumbedthe switch to receive and waited. 

There was only silence. 

Slowly, the empty quality of the silence penetrated his numbed mind. There were no crackling atmospherics nor hiss of static, even whenhe turned the power full on. The mass of rock and earth of themountain above was acting as a perfect grounding screen, absorbinghis signal even at maximum output. 

They hadn't heard him. The Nyjord fleet didn't know that the cobaltbombs had been discovered before their launching. The attack wouldgo ahead as planned. Even now, the bomb-bay doors were opening;armed H-bombs hung above the planet, held in place only by theirshackles. In a few minutes the signal would be given and theshackles would spring open, the bombs drop clear. .. . 

"Killers!" Brion shouted into the microphone. "You wouldn't listento reason, you wouldn't listen to Hys, or me, or to any voice thatsuggested an alternative to complete destruction. You are going todestroy Dis, and _it's not necessary!_ There were a lot of ways youcould have stopped it. You didn't do any of them, and now it's toolate. You'll destroy Dis, and in turn this will destroy Nyjord. Ihjel said that, and now I believe him. You're just another damnedfailure in a galaxy full of failures!"

He raised the radio above his head and sent it crashing intothe rock floor. Then he was running back to Ulv, trying to run awayfrom the realization that he too had tried and failed. The peopleon the surface of Dis had less than two minutes left to live. 

"They didn't get my message, " Brion said to Ulv. "The radio won'twork this far underground. "

"Then the bombs will fall?" Ulv asked, looking searchingly atBrion's face in the dim reflected light from the cavern. 

"Unless something happens that we know nothing about, the bombswill fall. "

They said nothing after that--they simply waited. The threetechnicians in the cavern were also aware of the time. They werecalling to each other and trying to talk to the magter. Theemotionless, parasite-ridden brains of the magter saw no reason tostop work, and they attempted to beat the men back to their tasks. In spite of the blows, they didn't go; they only gaped in horror asthe clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the magterdimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They stoppedtoo and waited. 

The hour hand touched twelve on Brion's watch, then the minute hand. The second hand closed the gap and for a tenth of a second the threehands were one. Then the second hand moved on. 

Brion's immediate sensation of relief was washed away by thechilling realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismicwaves were slow, and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seenhere. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they wouldn't know itat once. 

A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heavedunder them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifteddown from the roof above. 

Ulv turned to him, but Brion looked away. He could not face theaccusation in the Disan's eyes. 

XVIII

One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knockedhim down and beat him into silence. Seeing this, the other two menreturned to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surfaceof the planet was dead, this would have no effect on the magter. They would go ahead as planned, without emotion or imaginationenough to alter their set course. 

As the technicians worked, their attitude changed from shockednumbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had beenkilled--the invisible death of radiation must already be penetratinginto the caves--but they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftlythey brought their work to completion, with a speed and precisionthey had concealed before. 

"What are those offworlders doing?" Ulv asked. 

Brion stirred from his lethargy of defeat and looked across thecavern floor. The men had a wheeled handtruck and were rolling oneof the atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to thelatticework of the jump-field. 

"They are going to bomb Nyjord now, just as Nyjord bombed Dis. Thatmachine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet. "

"Will you stop them?" Ulv asked. He had his deadly blowgun in hishand and his face was an expressionless mask. 

Brion almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite ofeverything he had done to prevent it, Nyjord had dropped the bombs. And this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Brion had itwithin his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he?Should he save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice theancient blood-oath that had echoed and destroyed down through theages: _An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. _ It would be sosimple. He literally had to do nothing. The score would be even, andhis and the Disans' death avenged. 

Did Ulv have his blowgun ready to kill Brion with, if he should tryto stop the launchings? Or had he misread the Disan entirely?

"Will _you_ stop them, Ulv?" he asked. 

How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The caveman first hadthis feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until menfought and died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, thenfor whole planets. Would the time ever come when men might realizethat the obligation should be to the largest and most encompassingreality of all--mankind? And beyond that to life of all kinds. 

Brion saw this idea, not in words but as a reality. When he posedthe question to himself in this way he found that it stated clearlyits inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did hewondered what Ulv's answer might be. 

"Nyjord is _medvirk_, " Ulv said, raising his blowgun and sending adart across the cavern. It struck one of the technicians, who gaspedand fell to the floor. 

Brion's shots crashed into the control board, shorting anddestroying it, removing the menace to Nyjord for all time. 

_Medvirk_, Ulv had said. A life form that cooperates and aids otherlife forms. It may kill in self-defense, but it is essentially nota killer or destroyer. Ulv had a lifetime of knowledge about theinterdependency of life. He grasped the essence of the idea andignored all the verbal complications and confusions. He hadkilled the magter, who were his own people, because they were_umedvirk_--against life. And he had saved his enemies becausethey were _medvirk_. 

With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planetand the people that had produced this understanding were dead. 

In the cavern the magter saw the destruction of their plans, andthe cave mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushedto kill their enemy--a concerted wave of emotionless fury. 

Brion and Ulv fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed nomatter what happened could not resign Brion to death at the handsof the magter. To Ulv, the decision was much easier. He was simplykilling _umedvirk_. A believer in life, he destroyed the anti-life. 

They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The magter hadlights and ion rifles, and were right behind them. Knowing thecaverns better than the men they chased, the pursuers circled. Brion saw lights ahead and dragged Ulv to a stop. 

"They know their way through these caves, and we don't, " he said. "If we try to run they'll just shoot us down. Let's find a spotwe can defend and settle into it. "

"Back here"--Ulv gave a tug in the right direction--"there is a cavewith only one entrance, and that is very narrow. "

"Let's go!"

Running as silently as they could in the darkness, they reachedthe deadend cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lostin other footsteps that sounded and echoed through the connectingcaves. Once inside, they found cover behind a ridge and waited. The end was certain. 

 * * * * *

The magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into allthe places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men, and at the same instant Brion fired. The shot boomed loudly as themagter fell--a shot that would surely have been heard by the others. 

Before anyone else came into the cave, Brion ran over and grabbedthe still functioning light. Propping it on the rocks so it shone onthe entrance, he hurried back to shelter beside Ulv. They waited forthe attack. 

It was not long in coming. Two magter rushed in, and died. More wereoutside, Brion knew, and he wondered how long it would be beforethey remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter. 

An indistinct murmur sounded outside, and sharp explosions. In theirhiding place, Brion and Ulv crouched low and wondered why the attackdidn't come. Then one of the magter came in the entrance, but Brionhesitated before shooting. 

The man had _backed_ in, firing behind him as he came. 

Ulv had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn'tpenetrate the magter's thick clothing. As the magter turned, Ulv'sbreath pulsed once and death stung the back of the other man's hand. He collapsed into a crumpled heap. 

"Don't shoot, " a voice called from outside the cave, and a manstepped through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beamfrom the light. 

Brion clutched wildly at Ulv's arm, dragging the blowgun fromthe Disan's mouth. 

The man in the light wore a protective helmet, thick boots anda pouch-hung uniform. 

He was a Nyjorder. 

The realization was almost impossible to accept. Brion had heardthe bombs fall. Yet the Nyjord soldier was here. The two factscouldn't be accepted together. 

"Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case, " the soldiersaid, glancing warily at Ulv's blowpipe. "I know what those dartscan do. " He pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spokeinto it. 

More soldiers crowded into the cave, and Professor-Commander Krafftcame in behind them. He looked strangely out of keeping in the dustycombat uniform. The gun was even more incongruous in his blue-veinedhand. After giving the pistol to the nearest soldier with an air ofrelief, he stumbled quickly over to Brion and took his hand. 

"It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you in person, "he said. "And your friend Ulv as well. "

"Would you kindly explain what is going on?" Brion said thickly. Hewas obsessed by the strange feeling that none of this could possiblybe happening. 

"We will always remember you as the man who saved us from ourselves, "Krafft said, once again the professor instead of the commander. 

"What Brion wants are facts, Grandpa, not speeches, " Hys said. Thebent form of the leader of the rebel Nyjord army pushed through thecrowd of taller men until he stood next to Krafft. "Simply stated, Brion, your plan succeeded. Krafft relayed your message to me--andas soon as I heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'msorry that Telt's dead--but he found what we were looking for. Icouldn't ignore his report of radioactive traces. Your girl friendarrived with the hacked-up corpse at the same time I did, and we alltook a long look at the green leech in its skull. Her explanation ofwhat it is made significant sense. We were already carrying outlandings when we had your call about something having been storedin the magter tower. After that it was just a matter of followingtracks--and the transmitter you planted. "

"But the explosions at midnight?" Brion broke in. "I heard them!"

"You were supposed to, " Hys laughed. "Not only you, but the magterin this cave. We figured they would be armed and the cave stronglydefended. So at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosivebombs at the entrance. Enough to kill the guards without bringingthe roof down. We also hoped that the magter deeper in would leavetheir posts or retreat from the imagined radiation. And they did. Itworked like a charm. We came in quietly and took them by surprise. Made a clean sweep--killed the ones we couldn't capture. "

"One of the renegade jump-space technicians was still alive, "Krafft said. "He told us about your stopping the bombs aimedat Nyjord, the two of you. "

None of the Nyjorders there could add anything to his words, noteven the cynical Hys. But Brion could empathize their feelings, thewarmth of their intense relief and happiness. It was a sensation hewould never forget. 

"There is no more war, " Brion translated for Ulv, knowing that theDisan had understood nothing of the explanation. As he said it, herealized that there was one glaring error in the story. 

"You couldn't have done it, " Brion said. "You landed on this planet_before_ you had my message about the tower. That means you stillexpected the magter to be sending their bombs to Nyjord--and youmade the landings in spite of this knowledge. "

"Of course, " Professor Krafft said, astonished at Brion's lackof understanding. "What else could we do? The magter are sick!"

Hys laughed aloud at Brion's baffled expression. "You have tounderstand Nyjord psychology, " he said. "When it was a matter of warand killing, my planet could never agree on an intelligent course. War is so alien to our philosophy that it couldn't even beconsidered correctly. That's the trouble with being a vegetableeater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're easy prey for the first onethat lands on your back. Any other planet would have jumped on themagter with both feet and shaken the bombs out of them. We fumbledit so long it almost got both worlds killed. Your mind-parasite drewus back from the brink. "

"I don't understand, " Brion said. 

"A simple matter of definition. Before you came we had no way todeal with the magter here on Dis. They really were alien to us. Nothing they did made sense--and nothing we did seemed to have theslightest effect on them. But you discovered that they were _sick_, and that's something we know how to handle. We're united again; myrebel army was instantly absorbed into the rest of the Nyjord forcesby mutual agreement. Doctors and nurses are on the way here now. Plans were put under way to evacuate what part of the population wecould until the bombs were found. The planet is united again, andworking hard. "

"Because the magter are sick, infected by a destructive life form?"Brion asked. 

"Exactly so, " Professor Krafft said. "We are civilized, after all. You can't expect us to fight a war--and you surely can't expect usto ignore the plight of sick neighbors?"

"No . .. You surely can't, " Brion said, sitting down heavily. He looked at Ulv, to whom the speech had been incomprehensible. Beyond him, Hys wore his most cynical expression as he consideredthe frailties of his people. 

"Hys, " Brion called out, "you translate all that into Disan andexplain to Ulv. I wouldn't dare. "

XIX

Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a schoolroom globe inspace. No clouds obscured its surface, and from this distance itseemed warm and attractive set against the cold darkness. Brionalmost wished he were back there now, as he sat shivering inside theheavy coat. He wondered how long it would be before his confusedbody-temperature controls decided to turn off the summer adjustment. He hoped it wouldn't be as sudden or as drastic as turning it onhad been. 

Delicate as a dream, Lea's reflection swam in space next to theplanet. She had come up quietly behind him in the spaceship'scorridor, only her gentle breath and mirrored face telling himshe was there. He turned quickly and took her hands in his. 

"You're looking infinitely better, " he said. 

"Well, I should, " she said, pushing back her hair in an unconsciousgesture with her hand. "I've been doing nothing but lying in theship's hospital, while you were having such a fine time this lastweek. Rushing around down there shooting all the magter. "

"Just gassing them, " he told her. "The Nyjorders can't bringthemselves to kill any more, even if it does raise their owncasualty rate. In fact, they are having difficulty restraining theDisans led by Ulv, who are happily killing any magter they see asbeing pure _umedvirk_. "

"What will they do when they have all those frothing magter madmen?"

"They don't know yet, " he said. "They won't really know until theysee what an adult magter is like with his brain-parasite dead andgone. They're having better luck with the children. If they catchthem early enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has donetoo much damage. "

Lea shuddered delicately and let herself lean against him. "I'm notthat sturdy yet; let's sit down while we talk. " There was a couchopposite the viewport where they could sit and still see Dis. 

"I hate to think of a magter deprived of his symbiote, " she said. "If his system can stand the shock, I imagine there will be nothingleft except a brainless hulk. This is one series of experimentsI don't care to witness. I rest secure in the knowledge thatthe Nyjorders will find the most humane solution. "

"I'm sure they will, " Brion said. 

"Now what about us?" she said disconcertingly, leaning back in hisarms. "I must say you have the highest body temperature of any oneI have ever touched. It's positively exciting. "

This jarred Brion even more. He didn't have her ability to put pasthorrors out of the mind by substituting present pleasures. "Well, just what about us?" he said with masterful inappropriateness. 

She smiled as she leaned against him. "You weren't as vague as that, the night in the hospital room. I seem to remember a few otherthings you said. And did. You can't claim you're completelyindifferent to me, Brion Brandd. So I'm only asking you what anyoutspoken Anvharian girl would. Where do we go from here? Getmarried?"

There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight body in his armsand feeling her hair against his cheek. They both sensed it, andthis awareness made his words sound that much more ugly. 

"Lea--darling! You know how important you are to me--but youcertainly realize that we could never get married. "

Her body stiffened and she tore herself away from him. 

"Why, you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat! What do you mean bythat? I like you, Lea, we have plenty of fun and games together, butsurely you realize that you aren't the kind of girl one takes hometo mother!"

"Lea, hold on, " he said. "You know better than to say a thing likethat. What I said has nothing to do with how I feel towards you. But marriage means children, and you are biologist enough to knowabout Earth's genes--"

"Intolerant yokel!" she cried, slapping his face. He didn't move orattempt to stop her. "I expected better from you, with all yourpretensions of understanding. But all you can think of are thehorror stories about the worn-out genes of Earth. You're the same asevery other big, strapping bigot from the frontier planets. I knowhow you look down on our small size, our allergies and haemophiliaand all the other weaknesses that have been bred back and preservedby the race. You hate--"

"But that's not what I meant at all, " he interrupted, shocked, hisvoice drowning hers out. "Yours are the strong genes, the viablestrains--_mine_ are the deadly ones. A child of mine would killitself and you in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term. You're forgetting that you are the original homo sapiens. I'm arecent mutation. "

Lea was frozen by his words. They revealed a truth she had known, but would never permit herself to consider. 

"Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed, " he said. "Thelast few thousand years you may have been breeding weaknesses backinto the genetic pool. But that's nothing compared to the hundredmillions of years that it took to develop man. How many newbornbabies live to be a year of age on Earth?"

"Why . .. Almost all of them. A fraction of one per cent die eachyear--I can't recall exactly how many. "

"Earth is home, " he said again gently. "When men leave home they canadapt to different planets, but a price must be paid. A terribleprice is in dead infants. The successful mutations live, thefailures die. Natural selection is a brutally simple affair. Whenyou look at me, you see a success. I have a sister--a success too. Yet my mother had six other children who died when they were stillbabies. And several others that never came to term. You know aboutthese things, don't you, Lea?"

"I know, I know . .. " she said sobbing into her hands. He held hernow and she didn't pull away. "I know it all as a biologist--butI am so awfully tired of being a biologist, and top of my class anda mental match for any man. When I think about you, I do it asa woman, and can't admit any of this. I need someone, Brion, andI needed you so much because I loved you. " She paused and wiped hereyes. "You're going home, aren't you? Back to Anvhar. When?"

"I can't wait too long, " he said, unhappily. "Aside from my personalwants, I find myself remembering that I'm a part of Anvhar. When youthink of the number of people who suffered and died--or adapted--sothat I could be sitting here now . .. Well, it's a littlefrightening. I suppose it doesn't make sense logically that I shouldfeel indebted to them. But I do. Anything I do now, or in the nextfew years, won't be as important as getting back to Anvhar. "

"And I won't be going back with you. " It was a flat statementthe way she said it, not a question. 

"No, you won't be, " he said. "There is nothing on Anvhar for you. "

Lea was looking out of the port at Dis and her eyes were dry now. "Way back in my deeply buried unconscious I think I knew it wouldend this way, " she said. "If you think your little lecture on theOrigins of Man was a novelty, it wasn't. It just reminded me of anumber of things my glands had convinced me to forget. In a way, Ienvy you your weightlifter wife-to-be, and your happy kiddies. Butnot very much. Very early in life I resigned myself to the fact thatthere was no one on Earth I would care to marry. I always had theseteen-age dreams of a hero from space who would carry me off, and Iguess I slipped you into the pattern without realizing it. I'm oldenough now to face the fact that I like my work more than a banalmarriage, and I'll probably end up a frigid and virtuous old maid, with more degrees and titles than you have shot-putting records. "

As they looked through the port Dis began slowly to contract. Theirship drew away from it, heading towards Nyjord. They sat apart, without touching now. Leaving Dis meant leaving behind somethingthey had shared. They had been strangers together there, on astrange world. For a brief time their lifelines had touched. Thattime was over now. 

"Don't we look happy!" Hys said, shambling towards them. 

"Fall dead and make me even happier then, " Lea snapped bitterly. 

Hys ignored the acid tone of her words and sat down on the couch nextto them. Since leaving command of his rebel Nyjord army he seemed muchmellower. "Going to keep on working for the Cultural RelationshipsFoundation, Brion?" he asked. "You're the kind of man we need. "

Brion's eyes widened as the meaning of the last words penetrated. "Are you in the C. R. F. ?"

"Field agent for Nyjord, " he said. "I hope you don't think thosehelpless office types like Faussel or Mervv really represented usthere? They just took notes and acted as a front and cover for theorganization. Nyjord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding handbehind the scenes is needed, to help them find their place in thegalaxy before they are pulverized. "

"What's your dirty game, Hys?" Lea asked, scowling. "I've had enoughhints to suspect for a long time that there was more to the C. R. F. Than the sweetness-and-light part I have seen. Are you peopleegomaniacs, power hungry or what?"

"That's the first charge that would be leveled at us if ouractivities were publicly known, " Hys told her. "That's why we domost of our work under cover. The best fact I can give you tocounter the charge is _money_. Just where do you think we get thefunds for an operation this size?" He smiled at their blank looks. "You'll see the records later so there won't be any doubt. The truthis that all our funds are donated by planets we have helped. Even atiny percentage of a planetary income is large--add enough of themtogether and you have enough money to help other planets. Andvoluntary gratitude is a perfect test, if you stop to think aboutit. You can't talk people into liking what you have done. They haveto be convinced. There have always been people on C. R. F. Worlds whoknew about our work, and agreed with it enough to see that we arekept in funds. "

"Why are you telling me all this super-secret stuff, " Lea asked. 

"Isn't that obvious? We want you to keep on working for us. You canname whatever salary you like--as I've said, there is no shortage ofready cash. "

Hys glanced quickly at them both and delivered the clinchingargument. "I hope Brion will go on working with us too. He is thekind of field agent we desperately need, and it is almost impossibleto find. "

"Just show me where to sign, " Lea said, and there was life in hervoice once again. 

"I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail, " Brion smiled, "but I supposeif you people can juggle planetary psychologies, you must find thatindividuals can be pushed around like chessmen. Though you shouldrealize that very little pushing is required this time. "

"Will you sign on?" Hys asked. 

"I must go back to Anvhar, " Brion said, "but there really is nopressing hurry. "

"Earth, " said Lea, "is overpopulated enough as it is. "

 * * * * *

 72 HOURS IN HELL

 Dis was a harsh, inhospitable, dangerous place and the Magter made it worse. They might have been human once--but they were something else now. The Magter had only one desire--Kill! Kill everything, themselves, their planet, the universe if they could-- Brion Brandd was sent in at the eleventh hour. His mission was to save Dis, but it looked as though he was going to preside over its annihilation. 

 PLANET OF THE DAMNED

 * * * * *

 HARRY HARRISON