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galaxy.MAGAZINE

SCIENCE FICTION

^ DECEMBER 1968600

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Baby Is ThreeTheodore Sturgeon

The Bo/fod oftost C'Mell

Cordwaincr Smith

in our galaxy

The only thing we know about tomorrowis that it hus its roots today. And out of thefantastic facts of today's scientific wondersGalaxy's all-star lineup of contributors weavestories that are sometimes wry, sometimes ter-rifying— but always a delight to read.

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Here are some of the famous stories thatappeared in Galaxy in its first fifteen years.Will the next fifteen years be as good?

Frankly, we don't think so. We think they'llbe better!

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The Big Timefritz Leiber

The Caves of SteelIsaac Asimov

Day After DoomsdayPoul Anderson

The Demolished AlanAlfred Bester

Do J Wake or Dream?Frank Herbert

The Dragon MastersJack Vance

The Fireman(Farenhcit 451)Ray Bradbury

Gravy Planet(The Space Merchant s

Pali I & Kornbluth

Here Gather the Stars(Way Station)

Clifford D. Simak

Home from the ShoreGordon R. Dickson

Hof PlanetHal Clement

King of the CityKeith Laumer

MindswapRobert Sheckley

Med Ship ManMurray Leinster

The Men in the WallsWilliam Term

The Old Die RichH. L. Gold

The Puppet MastersRobert A. Heinlein

Surface TensionJames Blish

The Visitor of the ZooDamon Knight

Wind betweehthe Worlds

Lester del Rey

oaiaxyMAGAZINE

ALL STORIES NEW

Galaxy Is published In French, Ger-

man, Italian, Japanese and Spanish.

The U. S. Edition 1$ published InBraille and Living Tape.

December, 1968 9 Vol. 27, No. 5

CONTENTS

NOVELETTES

THE SHARING OF FLESHby Pool Anderson

SUBWAY TO THE STARS .by Raymond F. Jones

A LIFE POSTPONED ....by John Wyndham *

SPYING SEASONby Mack Reynolds

7

60

114

156

FREDERtK POHLEditor

WILLY LEYScience Editor

JUDY-LYNN BENJAMINAssociate Editor

LESTER DEL REYManaging Editor

ROBERT M. GUINNPublisher

LAWRENCE LEVINE ASSOC.Advertising

MAVIS FISHERCirculation Director

SHORT STORIES . * *. AONE STATION OF THE WAY 42

by Frilz Leiber^

i

SWEET DREAMS, MELISSA .V. J.\t .»

.

1 35by Stephen Goldin ^ ,

JINN 7..., r...^.... 137by Joseph Green

SCIENCE DEPARTMENT

FOR YOUR INFORMATION 104by Willy Ley

FEATURES

EDITORIAL 4by Frederik Pohl

GALAXY BOOKSHELF 149by Algis Budrytt

GALAXY'S STARS 193

GALAXY MAGAZINE Is publishedmonthly by Galaxy PublishingCorporation. Main offices; 421Hudson Street, New York, N.Y.10014. 60c per copy Subscrip-tion: (12 copies! $6.00 In theUnited States, Canada, Mexico,South and Central America andU. S. Possessions. Elsewhere$7.00. Second-class postagepaid at New York, N.Y. and atadditional mailing offices. Copy-right New York 1968 by GalaxyPublishing Corporation, RobertM. Guinn, President All rightsincluding translations reserved.

All material submitted must beaccompanied by self-addressedstamped envelopes. The pub-lisher assumes no responsibilityfor unsolicited material. All

stories printed In this magazineare fiction and any similaritybetween characters and actualpersons Is coincidental.

Cover by PEDERSON from ONE STATION OF THE WAY Printed In the U.S.A.By The Guinn Co., Inc. N.Y.

Title Beg. U. S. Pat Off.

THE GREAT INVENTIONS

A s semi-professional crystal-ball gazers, we science-fiction

types share a community of inter-est with budget-makers, city plan-

ners, airline traffic managers andall sorts of other people whoseprincipal occupation is to makestatements today about what islikely to happen tomorrow.

Everything considered, it’s our

opinion that the wide-ranging

view of the average Galaxy wri-ter is less likely to be appallingly

wrong than even the best-basedprojection of the specialist, mak-ing predictions about his ownfield. We think there is a reasonfor this, and we think the reasonis worth a little consideration.

Take one of the great new in-

ventions at random — say, thehologram.

There’s no doubt that the holo-gram is a fascinating pieceof technology. Three-dimensional

virtual images, an eerie ability tolook behind the objects in theforefront of what you find your-self thinking of as a photograph— no question about it, it’s inter-esting, it’s unprecedented, andsooner or later it’s going to prove

mighty useful.But — useful at what, exactly?There’s really no way to telL

One thing we do know: Anypresent study about the futureof the hologram, considering noth-

ing but the hologram, is certainto be simplistic, incomplete —and just plain wrong.

4

Tfie reason we say this is sim-ple. Tfie dialectic of society does

not allow any development to oc-cur in a vacuum. Tfie thingstfiat transform tfie world are not

single gadgets; tfiey are gestalts.

For instance, we talk about “tfieautomobile revolution”, and cer-tainly tfie pfienomenon we meanwfien we say tfiat Has radicallyaltered all our lives. But what is“tfie automobile revolution”?

It isn’t one invention; it’s morelike a dozen. At least. It is tfieproduct of Ford’s assembly line,plus Goodyear’s rubber, plus

Otto’s engine, plus Macadam’s -Hardtop roads — plus sucfi otfierinventions as tfie crucial one ofinstallment buying.

Take away any one of tfiesetilings, and you Have no “auto-mobile revolution”. You fiavesomething quite different, and farless significant. Nobody inventedtfie automobile. (Nobody invent-ed tfie airplane or tfie ICBM ortelevision or tfie computer,

either.) Wliat Happened in tfiecase of tfie automobile is tfiat alot of different people came upwith a lot of different innova-

tions, large and small, technolo-gical and social — and tfie resultin 1968 is Highway deaths, a mo-bile population, new kinds of sta-tus symbols and air pollution.So to know wliat Holograms

will signify 50 years from now,

you must be able to make somesort of guess at any number ofsimultaneously occurring changes.

For example — care to predicttfie future of rocket trans-port?

Teclinologically, tfiat joH is

easy. Tfie materials exist rigfit at

Hand. A Douglas scientist namedPfiilip Bone already lias on tfiedrawing boards wliat fie calls a

Hyperion, a rocket wfiicfi could

carry a thousand people anywfiere

in tfie world in 45 minutes, in-

dependent of traffic patterns andeven of landing fields.

But, although tfie technology is

pretty straightforward, tfie ques-

tion of whether sucfi transports

will ever fly depends on someratfier remote-seeming other con-

tingencies, including tfie prospects

of putting domes over our citiesand tfie likelihood of a generaldisarmament treaty.Why tfiese two? Simple. A: THe

noise level of rocket transports is

even more Horrendous than thatof tfie SST, wfiicfi is already in-tolerable. It is almost certainly

out of tfie question for them totake off or land anywfiere near a

city (and there’s not much pointin landing them anywfiere else),unless tfie people in tfie city can

be insulated from tfie “sound pol-lution” — and about tfie onlyimmediately visible practicable

5

way of doing that is through put-ting Buckminster Fuller’s domesover the cities. And B: The bigroadblock for rocket liners, as for

that matter for SSTs, is finding

a way to pay for the developmentcosts. Basically these are now metout of (defense funds, one way oranother; but given disarmament,

the defense money dries up . . .and either we find a new way offunding R&D or we don’t haverocket liners.

'T'lie other thing wrong withstraight-line predictions about

the future of technological inno-

vations is that all too often they

miss the point of what the inno-vation is really going to be goodfor. Innovations aren’t used in a.vacuum, either.

Take computers. There is nota science-based shop in the coun-try where you can’t get an argu-ment on The Future of the Com-puter, or Whether Machines CanReally Think.

Strikes us that this is a pitifully

trivial argument. It’s like looking

at a newborn child, and wonder-ing about the future of his leftarm.

What is important about thefuture of a child is not what willhappen to any of his members,but what will happen to thewhole organism; and what is im-portant about the future of com-

puters is what will happento servo-systems, man-machinesymbioses and still-unguessed so-cial constructs in which compu-ters play a part.

A man using a computer canfunction as though he has (which,functionally speaking, is the

same as has) an I.Q. anywherefrom 10 to 50 points higher thanbis unaided score. That is whatis important about computers —not what the machine can do,but what the man-machine sym-biosis can do. The implications gofar beyond the present horizonsof expediting scientific research

or selling airline tickets; they in-

clude the excellent possibility

that all of us can pick up thosefunctional extra I.Q. points anduse them in our daily lives.And there is a revolution that

makes the automobile look prettytrivial. If nothing else, think of

the retarded 10% of the humanrace; and think of themequipped with, say, wristwatch-

sized remote-access computerconsoles. Now they can navigatecity streets by themselves; nowthey can hold jobs; now they canrejoin the human race.Somebody once said that a

good science-fiction story should

be able to predict not the automo-bile but the traffic jam. We agree.And so should good science.

— THE EDITOR

6

^ One Station of the Way

—and the Story had another end

!

*T'he paired moons Daurya andSonista were both still higH

in the night, although they hadbegun their descent toward theflat western horizon. The starsthat showed in the heavens werefew and dim, even in the eastSuddenly a new one appeared

(here — bright, white and daz-zling as a cut sunstone.

The three hominids, heavilyrobed and cowled against thedesert, which thirsted for theirmoisture, swiftly, dismountedfrom the high-backed chair-sad-dles of their cameloids, knelt in

the sand, which was cold above,but still hot below, and did thenew star reverence, rhythmicallyswaying forward their planted

spears in time with the slow bob-bing of their heads.

The star in the east grewbrighter still and began to de-scend.

One hominid said, “It is a signfrom God. Blessed Wife andHusband are where we thoughtthem.”

Another agreed, "They arethere, our Chosen Ones, underthe falling star. It is indeed a

sign. Those who seek, find — ifthey be unwearying of heartmind and senses.”Even as they spoke, the star,

grown piercingly bright, winkedout. It was difficult to tell wheth-er it Had been extinguished, orhad dropped behind a dune. The

43

latter seemed likely, since there

was a pale semicircular glowwhere the star Had been. Butthen the glow vanisfied too.

Springing to His feet, the tfiird

hominid said, “Let us He afterthem* before the fix fades fromour minds.”

“Indeed yes,” tfie first second-

ed as He rose. “We must remem-ber that we have for tfiem * . .our gifts.”

“Let us fiaste, cousin,” tfie

second urged, rising too.

Faintly revealed fiy tfie ligfit

of Sonista and Daurya, tfie threehominids were stranger front

side than back. Smiling together

as they conferred, they eacfi

showed three eyes, one where anose would be on a Terran face,while their smiling mouths werelong, going almost from trumpet

ear to trumpet ear.They remounted and went

down the slope of tfie dune ata lope which made tfie sand hissvery faintly under their came-loids’ hooves. On tfie three ret-inas of each' Hominid and con-joined in eacfi of their brains,

the after-image of tfie star still

burned, a tiny ball blacker thantfie night.

TT'ive dunes ahead, Wife stared' afright yet paralyzed at thefantastic sight — fantastic evenon that most fantastic world,Finiswar, where except among

44

the most evolved and intelligenttypes, monsters were the rule andtrue-breeds the exception.

Wife could Hear Husband’sheart thud, although he stood ata short distance from Her. Hold-ing Her either hand, peeping

around Her robes, were small rep-licas of Husband and Herself. Sfiecould feel their Hearts beating,

not a-fear, but quietly as wfienthey nursed or slept

All four b'eings were visaged

and robed like the three fiomin-ids riding the cameloids.

Wife thought in a tiny active

comer of her frozen mind: Thelittle ones do not fear strange-ness, at least so long as I Hold

their Hands. TKey open them-selves to all tfie world. Couldthat be good? TKey do not armorthemselves against it, as a wom-an armors Herself against all

stray and errant seeds andagainst all lovers save one, after

she cuts Her middle teeth and1

they are grown razor sharp.But could opening oneself ever

be good, except in childhood,

when one lives fantasies parent-protected? Love is a tunnel seal-ed at both ends, the wise say,

never the forest and sea and sky.What Wife stared at a-quake,

though now with growing won-der, were two gigantic serpents,each as thick as Husband butthree times as tall in their for-

ward thirds alone that swayed

GALAXY

upright like a white and a black

tree in the wind. The foremostwas pallid as Daurya. The onethat lurked behind with his swol-

len Head swaying into view, nowto the right of his pale compan-ion, now to the left, was dark asmoonless night.

Or perhaps they were moreproperly millipeds than serpents,

for from each’s ventral side, nowfacing Wife, grew ranks andranks of stubby-fingered feet,

many of the fingers nervouslya-writhe. These fingered feet grewthickest under the great serpentheads. This, although Wifecould not know it, was so thatthe two serpents could crawl ef-fectively on a max-grav planet.Here on Finiswar, which was assmall as Terra, the head-feet

were of little need.Behind them, blurred to Wife’s

three eyes, because their focuswas ever on the serpents, stoodthe slender and strangely finnedspoonmetal spire from which twoextra-Finiswarians had emerged,and which Had burned like anunended candle, its flame blind-ingly white, as it had descended.Now the pallid serpent, its

trunk reared up scarce two stepsaway from Wife, lowered its flafhead to inspect her point bypoint over her cowled head androbed body. He studied her fromthe black holes in his two great

eyes that were like two mollust-

ONE STATION OF THE WAY

jewels, white as his scales but

even more fluorescently glitter-ing. He traced her form. Fromtime to time he lightly touchedher with his ghost-white, narrow,trifid tongue.

She could hear Husband’sheart thunder, though he stoodstill as stone. The children, how-ever, were merely curious. Sheknew without looking down thather daughter was stretching athin arm toward the serpent.While her own heart was thud-ding, but she no longer knew ifit were thudding with' fear, evenwhen the shivery, shockingtongue touched her lips.She did not know that she was

filled with a wild, almost unbear-able excitement. It made Her won-der. It made her question every-thing she knew.

•

She fought the answers Her feel-ings gave. Not Tins inti-

mate gentle, imperious searchingnever, never, never, could belove, she told herself. Love wasa needle in the dark, the one

right needle amidst a trillion

wrong ones. Love was something

the woman controlled and testedat every instant, her senses in-

creasingly alert from periphery

to center, her will a trillion times

as ready to deal death as to wel-

come life. Love had nothing to

do with this paralyzed submis-

sion. Love was not Daurya and

45

Sonista ceaselessly staring at

each’ other as they circled each’

other for all eternity. Rather, it

was the needle-pointed spearwhich one permitted to strike inthe dark.

Moreover, love had to do onlywith' h’ominids. Or rather it hadto do with one chosen Hominidonly, not with a gigantic serpent

weirder than a magnified jungle

flower, a jewel-crusted great sea-

snake, a rainbow bird whosewings spanned trees. And yet,and yet. . . .

But, if by some impossibility itshould be love, what was themeaning of the pallid lord’s darkbrother? — whose ebon head andjet eyes followed closely every

movement of the pallid lord’s flatface, now dipping in from oneside, now from the other, watch-ing every touching though notquite ever close enough to touchwith his own black tongue, whichwas slender, trifid and blurring-ly a-tremble. Love was for two,not three. Was he the pallidlord’s true brother, to be accept-ed with honor? Or was He to behated as the pallid lord was tobe loved? Or was he in truthonly a shadow? More substantialthan other shadows, a shadowwith’ depth' as well as breadth andheight, but still only a shade, anunvarying adjunct of the pallidlord?

And yet, and yet . . . what else

46

but love could be the excitementturned glory that now filled her,filled her almost to fainting asthe serpent’s great Head paused,so that she felt the tongue'striple trembling through her robe,before the great Head lifted backand away.The First Mate, for such was.

the office of the black serpent,murmur-hissed softly, “you spentsome appreciative time there, youold lech’erl Your spermapositorHad its kicks. I believe you doyour whole work solely for yourenjoyment of these moments.”

“Silence, filth,” the Captainreplied. “The work must alwaysbe done softly, gently and withgreatest care, since its object is

a mustardseed that eventuallywill fill all earth and sky.”

“I’ve guessed it. You’re grow-ing sentimental,” the First Matejeered. “Mustardseed! Why, youmust be remembering that world— how many implantings wagit back? — called Terra or Gaeaor something like that. One ofyour more notable failures.”“One of my notable successes,”

the Captain contradicted.

“I don’t see how. As I recall,his people killed him most pain-fully. And we Had later reportsof even more disastrous conse-quences.”

tt'C'xactly! — they killed Him.*“' And by that death he emo-

GALAXY

tionally and mentally fecundatedhis whole world. You still don’tunderstand my methods. Obser-vation has only made your blindspots blacker. My son died, buthis ideas — the idea of love —lived on.”

“In utterly distorted forms,”the First Mate pronounced,“eventually turning Half that race

into utter preys, into victims

even more cringing than beforeyour 'great work,’ the other halfinto still more merciless hunters.A schizophrenic split in the col-lective unconscious. At last re-port, the folk of that planet werebeing ruled by fear and greed,while the great nations were pre-paring to destroy each other with

chemical, biological and nuclearweapons.”

“True enough. Yet they’d onlyprepared, not done it,” the Cap-tain countered. “For love to win,great risks must be boldly taken.But without love there’s no hopeat all — only the unending chaseof hunters and preys. Dangerous?Of course love isl Always I startfrom a point near death, like thisdesert here, and work towardlife. Then — ”“OH, yes, this desertl” the First

Mate interrupted sardonically.“That other planet had a deserttoo. And it had heavily robedfeatherless bipeds, and cameloidbeasts, and a moon. Finiswar hereHas reminded you of it.

“Besides that, you Save athing about deserts. They ap-peal to your asceticism, Theyfit with your ever more asceticmatings and also to your grow-ing flirtatiousness with death, anaspect of your feelings for whichyou have a vast blind spot In-cidentally, I believe this desert

is different Most of my compu-ter’s probes Haven’t reported backyet but I already have an intui-tion. An intuition that is a warn-ing to you: don’t trust the an-alogy between Terra and Finis-war too far. In fact, don’t trustit at all.”

“You and your computer andits probes 1 Forever seeking todissect the universe to the last

particle. Forever seeking to dis-prove empathy and similarityand oneness. You’ll never findlove that way.”

“True, I won’t — because it’snot there l- There are only vanityand desire. Besides, you haveyour computer and its probes too,though you pretend they’re onlya technological trifle. Despite

which, they always manage toecho your profound judgments.”

TTTife, floating in a sea of* ’ glory distantly shored with

fear, hearing as if they were windon sand the hissings and mur-murings of Captain and FirstMate, now suddenly felt the ten-tative tiny touch of an alien seed

ONE STATION OF THE WAY 47

on her poignantly sensitive raz-or-sharp teeth.

At first she was only gentlystartled. The desert was the(place of no-seed. There weresome seeds everywhere, likespores of* plague. Nevertheless,

the scarcity of alien seed was wKyshe and Husband had come here.Then all at once she realized

it must be the seed of the greatwhite snake. It Had the same con-

stant vibrancy in its movements,the same gentle imperiousness.She felt it cross and recross herbite, questingly. Then she partedHer teeth a little, and it slowlycrawled in.

For a long moment she couldhave sliced it in two, and herevery instinct, almost, was to doso, although her median teethwere chiefly for decapitating(seed-depositing organs. But itwas a larger seed, bigger than oneof her eggs, and she could readi-ly have destroyed it so.Yet she did not, for it carried

the same glory with it as had theserpent’s tongue. The tongue hadbeen glory diffused. This wasglory concentrated into a needle.

Now the alien seed was in thepoison passage. But all the poi-son pores in it remained closed.So did the digestive pores.

(Some lazy single females livedon seeds and their depositing or-gans alone, using their facialmouths only to breathe and

48

drink. A female could do that onseed-thick-Finiswar — that is,anywhere except the mountainsand deserts.)And now the alien seed, vi-

brant, insistent, had reached thewall of doors. Wife could feelevery movement of its progress,every tiniest touching. It Hadpassed within a membrane’sthickness of poisons that coulddestroy any and all life.The dozen doors that led loop-

ing back to the chambers be-neath the poison pores remainedtight shut. The one true dooropened.

Another deadly but unharm-ing passage having been trav-ersed, the doubly alien seed wasin Wife’s centralmost and mostsensitive volume, asceptic save

for Her waiting egg.

And her egg which was onlypartly under her mind’s control,

did not employ any of the weap-ons of evasion, defense and coun-terattack at its disposal, but re-ceived the alien seed, which melt-ed the egg’s outer skin with theenzymes of a million Terran-typesperm.

Husband, his Heart still racing,whispered, “Why are you smil-ing?”

“1 smile because we are in aplace of no-seed, except yours,”

she whispered back. “I smile be-

cause Daurya and Sonista curt-sey around each other charming-

GALAXY

ly as they set. But chiefly Ismile because the serpents spar-

ed us, and their star did not bumtis down, though we felt its greatheat.”

“For those last you shouldfeel relief,” he told her coldly. “I

asked — Why are you smiling?”She did not answer. She knew

that he knew and could not befooled. It was as certain as thetight, hot clasp of her daughter-

duplicate’s little hand on hers,

as the way Husband-duplicate’shand chilled and almost fellaway from her looping fingers.Even the children knew.

Yes, Husband knew. And hewould first punish, then divorce,

send her off alone into sterilest

and hottest no-seed, try even totake from her daughter-dupli-

cate.

But even that would be a glo-ry, a glory at least in the end.

She would bear a daughter whowould have the serpent’s love,a daughter who would changeall Finiswar, a daughter whowould bring love at last to thewhole world of hating and ex-cluding and killing. Yes, it wouldbe a great glory.

nphe Captain was saying, “It-*• has taken, you can tell. Hersmile is like the other’s.”

“You are sentimentalizing 1”

the black First Mate rejoined.“Night, moon or moons, desert, a

ONE STATION OF THE WAY

willing female — what planethas not these? I tell you plainly,if you keep looking for similari-ties with Terra, you are in fewsome nasty shocks — yea, anddeadly danger too.”

“Not so,” the Captain contra-dicted calmly. “Also, the simi-

larities continue, for here — be-hold! —- come the Three Kings.”

Slithering down the dime so si-lently neither Husband nor Wifeheard them, came the three robedand cowled hominids. Theirrichly caparisoned cameloids hadbeen left beyond the top.Behind Husband, the first bo-

minid raised his arm, as if insalutation, then drew it back.From a small gleaming instru-

ment held in a fingered foot justbelow the head of the First Mate,who now reared up as steady asan ebony temple column, a bril-liant scarlet needle-beam took

that hominid in shoulder, chestand throat. And as the secondhominid raised his arm, it tookhim too.A brilliant white needle-beam,

shooting sideways from a similarinstrument the Captain had pro-duced, neatly took off that fin-

gered foot of the First Matewhich had held the scarlet-spit-ting weapon.The last hominid raised his

arm and hurled. The Captainswayed sideways fast enough tosave his life, but not — entirely

49

— his skin. The whirring speartransfixed a fold of it, barelypenetrating below the scaled epi-dermis, and dangled from theCaptain’s neck.

With . another instrument asquickly produced, the First Mateshot down the last of the intru-ders. Then He gave the whistlinghiss that was His laugh.The Captain’s nearest finger-

ed feet explored the lodgement

of the spear and finding it shal-low, tore it loose and cast ifaway on the sand. His fingeredfeet moved swiftly enough in do-ing this, but all the rest of Himappeared to be shocked numb.Wife and Husband had drop-

ped to their knees, while daugh-ter- and son-duplicates were hid-den in Wife’s robe.The First Mate turned off his

Hateful laugh at last and mur-mur-Kissed as Hatefully, “Yes,

there is in my mind no doubtbut that the Three Wise Mencame to Kill Husband and rapeWife. And I fancy that on Finis-war rape is a 'most curious andprolonged business. You will ad-mit now, will you not, my Cap-tain, that at least in one particu-lar your analogy between Terraand Finiswar lacked rigor?”The Captain still did not move.

Then a great shiver traveleddown His scales.The First Mate laughed again,

briefly and sardonically. “Well,

your great work is finished, is itnot? I mean, on Finiswar, at least.My probes Have returned to mycomputer. So yours Have to yoursI presume. In any case, I suggestwe depart at once, before we meetany shepherds, perchance.”Now at last the Captain nod-

ded. Once. Dumbly.While Husband and Wife con-

tinued to kneel and stare, thetwo great serpents lowered theirproud trunks and swiftly crawl-ed on their bellies back to theirship.

Later, in the control room ofInseminator, they arguedthe whole matter. Their greatlooped forms looked at Home inthe silvery room, their fingered

feet fitting themselves to the but-

tons and control holes of the mul-tiple consoles as occasion re-

quired. The argument began withdesultory comment, followed bya “report” by the First Mate,delivered coolly but with acid

cynicism.

The Captain said, “I stilldo not see why they shouldHave tried to spear me. It wasyou who was shooting at them.”The First Mate explained, “At

first they were simply trying tospear Husband. Thereafter, be-ing attacked, they naturally

tried to kill their attacker. You,being white, stood out in the

dark. I didn’t. .There are advan-

50 GALAXY

tages in being black. We wereclose togetKer, and the last Ho-

minid aimed at the one of us

Ke could see. A matter of purelyphysical black and wHite, youunderstand. I doubt they sensed

your hypothetical spiritual light

at all — or my spiritual negationof liglit, for tHat matter.”

“I was going to ask your par-

don for sbooting off your foot,”

tKe Captain said. “But since you

Eave made it an occasion for oneof your materialistic diatribes

—

”

“NevertEeless, I freely grant

you my forgiveness, for wfiat it’swortli.”

“Very well. Now let me Haveyour computer’s evaluation of

Finiswar.”

TEe First Mate nodded hisflat Head. Settling fiis dark coils

more comfortably around theirmetal “tree,” Be began:

“Interpreting the materials

gatHered and tHe observationsmade by its probes, my computerHas determined that the chief

mode of reproduction on Finis-war is partHogenesis. THe boy-child being identical with Hus-band and tfie girl-cfiild witfiWife sEould Have been enough totell you that and was enough totell me.”

Tfie First Mate chuckled, Histrifid tongue a blur of black vi-bration, and continued, “Thereis good reason, my computer tellsme, for partfiogenesis on Finig-

ONE STATION OF THE WAY

war and for the unusual armor-ing and arming of female geni-talia there. For Finiswar has a bi-ology that is genetically wideopen. Interspecial breeding ofany sort, no matter How wide thegap between mating organisms,is possible and fertile. There areliterally no lethal genes on Finis-war, and no offspring, no matterhow monstrous, which cannotlive at least a little while.

“Yet sexual breeding withinspecies is possible there, provid-

ed the coupling beasts take suf-ficient precaution. There againthe fortress-like female genitalsare essential, to kill off all false

sperm. While an intelligent spe-cies, such as the hominids, seeksout for breeding purposes as aridand sterile an area as possible,such as the desert we found themin. Else, despite all precautions,

a female might be impregnatedby a flower or a fish or a mic-robe or a glitter-winged insect

, . . or a serpent, a wise old ser-

pent.

“Yes,” the First Mate contin-ued after another of his chuckles,“Finiswar is in a small way rath-er like our planet — or should Icall it your planet? — since youare the only one paranoid enoughto think it a great work to spreadyour seed across the universe.Husband’s gon and Wife’s daugh-ter were both analogous to your

seed parthenogenetically grown

51

to full creature. However, they ofFinlswar are more modest. Theydo not encode their seed withgreat ideas — love and such —and force them on all the infin-itely varied breeds of being the

stars boast, think thereby to

bring ‘peace’ — your peace! toall.”

tt Qilence!” the Captain said at^ last with a writhe of dis-

gust. “Despite all your mocking,

my computer says there is apoint seven nine probability that

Wife will bear a child glorious-ly — ”“My computer says point eight

three on that,” the First Matebroke in titteringly. “But you’rewrong about the gloriously part.Wife will receive no adulationand reverent care. Instead shewill be tortured by Husband,her parthenogenetic daughter

taken from her and killed, andshe driven out from her familyand tribe to suffer. Oh, shewill — ”

“Trifles!” the Captain hissed

majestically. “Despite all, she will

produce a son who will — ”“A daughter,” the First Mate

contradicted. “By a point nineeight probability.”

“Yes, a daughter, you’re right

there,” the Captain admitted ir-ritably. “My computer echoesyours. But what matter? Shewon’t be the first female savior,

52

as you well know. The only pointof importance is that Wife willgive birth to a being who willpreach the gospel of love allacross Finiswar, so eloquently

that none will be able to resist!Hate and murderousness willvanish. Greed and envy willwither away. Love alone — ”“And what will that mean . .

.

on Finiswar?” the First Mate in-terrupted incisively, his great

head halting in the natural sway-ing it maintained in free fall. “Iwill tell you. It will mean thatthe females of Finiswar, at least

the hominid females, will openthemselves to all seeds. There willbe a great birthing of fantasticalmonsters. Exotic flowers withthree-eyed heads set amidst their

petals. Hominids crested andfinned like fish, but not likelyshowing gills. Rainbow birdswith wide mouths instead ofbeaks and arms instead of wings.Beings even more fantastical —insects that glitter and speak, an-imalcula that peer with pleading

treble eye through the microscope

from the viewing plate. Spidersthat— ”

“Enough!” the Captain com-manded. “My computer tells methat the chances for a stabilized,

still selectively breeding race of

loving hominids on Finiswar are. . . well point one seven,” headded defiantly.The First Mate shrugged all

GALAXY

along His body’s length. “On that,my computer says point oh ohthree.”

“Your computer is biased!”“Not as much as yours, I fan-

cy. Remember, you Have a greatwork, I am only the observer.No, the overwhelming chancesare for one jeweled and gemmedgeneration on Finiswar, like anuncontrollable growth of crys-tals of every angularity and Hue,like a beautiful cancer — freaksto please a mad emperor! —and then . . . the end. At leastfor the Hominids.”

“What matter?” the Captaindemanded stubbornly. “It will bean end with love. That is enough.”“OH, you Have at last solved

the problem of Death?” the FirstMate asked innocently. Then,after a moment, with His Hissinglaugh, “No, you have not asI can see. On Finiswar atleast, your Highly touted lovewill end in Death, just asit promises to do on longer-suf-fering Terra. Myself, I still ad-

mire most the beings who rise upand do battle against Death.And even the creatures that fleeDeath, the ones who are the eter-nal prey — those I admire moretoo, though not as greatly. The•layer is always more admirablethan the slain, for he survives.”"That endless circling, bloody

chase of the hunters and theprey? You can admire that?”

ONE STATION OF THE WAY

“Why not? Ifs all there is toadmire. Besides, it forces both

basic types of being to develop

velocity, first to swim throughwater, run on land and fly

through air. Finally, to speed

through sub-space, even as wedo. And to achieve that last re-quires the development of highintelligence and brilliant imag-ination, qualities which nicelyembellish both the best of hunt-era and the best of prey. I al-ways admire good decor.”

“I detest you in this mood,”the Captain said flatly. “Youhave been the companion of allmy wanderings, and still you willnot admit the primacy of Love.You cannot even bring yourselfto think of what might happenif the prey fled so swiftly that,like a guilty conscience, theycaught up with the Hunters alongthe great circles of the cosmos.”

“Metaphysics!” was the FirstMate’s only comment, deliveredwith great contempt.

“You scorn me and toy works,”the Captain said. “Yet you de-vote your entire existence to ob-serving me and them. If they arevalueless, why?”

For the first time, the FirstMate was at a loss for ananswer. Finally he hissed, “Per-haps it amuses me to watch youdo your work of destruction,calling it Love — a love which

53

only weakens the Hunter’s lust topursue and the prey’s panic toescape. Using Love, you’d leectiout of the universe its finestfighting stocks, its cleverest eva-

ders. Nevertheless,” he continuedflatly, “has not Finiswar at last

taught you that your great workis useless, tending always towardDeath rather than Life? All yoursavior-children — every last oneof them— are mules unable evento reproduce themselves. Theyare spokesmen for Death! I sug-gest you end it all, this instant.Negate the Inseminator’s fix onthe next planet, and set a coursefor home.”

“Never!” said the Captain.

“Wherever it leads — into what-ever seeming horrors — Love isprimal!”

AVAILABLE gy MAIL ONlY A MAG BfPROS FDR FANS. FKAZETTA, CKANRAU.ETC... WALLACE W0OP, BOX 882ANSON IA STATION, N.ttC. (0023

“Oh, that is sweet. That is ex-quisite,” the first Mate hissed, Hisvoice dripping venom. “As I said,my chief aim is my own amuse-ment And truly the finest pleas-ure lies in spying on you, who arethe greatest Hunter of them all,slaying with love. And also thegreatest prey, fleeing alwaysfrom the simple truth.”

“Silence!” the CaptAin Hissed,wrathful at last. “I’m sick ofyour sickness. Slither off at onceto your study, and stay there.Place yourself under ships ar-rest”

The First Mate obeyed withalacrity. As he glided into Hishole, the Captain called afterhim, “And the great work goeson. I shall continue planting

saviors!”

The First Mate thrust backout of his Hole his flat blackhead with eyes like rounds ofstarry night.

“Or simply the seeds of yourgreat Death-oriented paranoia,”

he hissed wth sheerest Hatred.“And you shall continue to

watch me,” the Captain said,missing no least opportunity tostamp into the other the fact ofhis own unswerving strength.“So I shall,” thd First Mate

hissed sharply. His head vanish-ed as if every atom of strengthin his massive trunk had beenemployed to whip it out of sight.

—FRITZ LEIBER

GALAXY

Sweet Dreams, Melissa

by STEPHEN GOLDIN

It was a question of number . . .

From out of Her special darkness, Melissa Heard the voiceof Dr. Paul speaking in KusHedtones at the far end of tHe room.“Dr. Paul,” she cried. “OH, Dr.Paul, please come Here!” Her.voice took on a desperate whine.

Dr. Paul’s voice stopped, then

muttered something. MelissaHeard His footsteps approacH Her.

“Yes, Melissa wh'at is it?” He

said in deep, patient tones.

“I’m scared, Dr. Paul.”

“More nightmares?”“Yes.”

“You don’t Have to worry aboutthem, Melissa. THey won’t Kurtyou.”

“But they’re scary,” Melissainsisted. “Make them stop. Makethem go away like you alwaysdo.”

Another voice was whisperingout in the darkness. It soundedlike Dr. Ed. Dr. Paul listenedto the whispers, then said underHis breath, “No, Ed, we can’t letit go on like tins. We’re waybehind schedule as it is.” Thenaloud, “You’ll Have to get usedto nightmares sometime, Melis-sa. Everybody Has them. I won’talways be Here to make them goaway.”

“OH, please don’t go.”“I’m not going yet, Melissa.

Not yet. But if you don’t stopworrying about these nightmares,I might Have to. Tell me wKatthey were about.”

“Well, at first I thought theywere the numbers, which are allright because the numbers don’tHave to do with people, they’re

55

nice and gentle and don’t hurtnobody like in the nightmares.Then the numbers started tochange and became lines — twolines of people, and they were allrunnings towards each other andshooting at each other. They wererifles and tanks and howitzers.And people were dying, too, Dr.Paul, lots of people. Five thou-

sand, two hundred and eighty-three men died. And that wasn’tall, because down on the otherside of the valley, there was moreshooting. And I heard someonesay that this was all right, be-cause as long as the casualties

stayed below fifteen point sevenpercent during the first battles,

the strategic position, which wasthe mountaintop, could be gain-ed. But fifteen point seven per-cent of the total forces would benine thousand, six Hundred andtwo point seven seven eight nineone men dead or wounded. Itwas like I could see all those menlying there, dying.”

CCT told you a five-year-old* mentality wasn’t mature

enough yet for Military Logis-tics,” Dr. Ed whispered.

Dr. Paul ignored him . “Butthat was in a war, Melissa. Youhave to expect that people willbe killed in a war.”“Why, Dr. Paul?”“Because . . . because that’s

the way war is, Melissa. And be-

sides, it didn’t really happen. Itwas just a problem, like with’ thenumbers, only there were peopleinstead of numbers. It was allpretend.”

“No it wasn’t, Dr. Paul,” criedMelissa. “It was all real. Allthose people were real. I evenknow their names. There wasAbers, Joseph T. Pfc., Adelli,Alonzo Cpl., Aikens ...”

“Stop it, Melissa,” Dr. Paulsaid, his voice rising much high-er than normal.

"I’m sorry, Dr. Paul,” Melissaapologized.

But Dr. Paul hadn’t heard Her;He was busy whispering to Dr.Ed. “ ... no other recourse thana full analyzation.”“But that could destroy the

whole personality we’ve workedso hard to build up.” Dr. Eddidn’t even bother to whisper.

“What else could we do?” Dr.Paul asked cynically. "These‘nightmares’ of Hera are driving

us further and further behindschedule.”

“We could try letting Melissaanalyze herself.”

“How?”“Watch.” His voice started

taking on the sweet tones thatMelissa had come to learn thatpeople used with her, but not

with each other. “How are you?”“I’m fine, Dr. Ed.”‘How would you like me to

tell you a story?”

56 GALAXY

“Is it a happy story, Dr. Ed?”

“I don’t know yet, Melissa. Doyou know wHat a computer is?”

“Yes. It’s a counting machine.”

“Well the simplest computers

started out that way, Melissa,

but they quickly grew more andmore complicated until soonthere were computers that could

read, write, speak, and eventhink all by themselves, withouthelp from men.“Now, once upon a time,

there was a group of men whosaid that if a computer couldthink by itself, it was capableof developing a personality, so

they undertook to build one that

would act just like a real per-son. They called it the Multi-Logical Systems Analyzer, orMLSA. ...”

ttnr'hat sounds like ‘Melissa,’”

Melissa giggled.

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Any-way, these men realized that apersonality isn’t something thatjust pops out of the air full-grown; it has to be developedslowly. But, at the same time,they needed the computing abil-ity of the machine because it wasthe most expensive and com-plex computer ever made. Sowhat they did was to divide thecomputer’s brain into two parts— one part would Handle nor-mal computations, while the oth-er part would develop into the

SWEET DREAMS, MELISSA

desired personality. Then, whenthe personality was built up suf-ficiently, the two parts would beunited again.

“At least, that’s the way theythought it would work. But itturned out that the basic designof the computer prevented acomplete dichotomy; — thatmeans splitting in half — of thefunctions. Whenever they wouldgive a problem to the comput-ing part, some of it would neces-sarily seep into the personality

part This was bad because, Me-lissa, the personality part didn’t

know it was a computer; itthought it was a little girl likeyou. The data that seeped inconfused it and frightened it.And as it became more frighten-ed and confused, its efficiencywent down until it could nolonger work properly."“WHat did the men do, Dr.

Ed?”“I don’t know, Melissa. I was

Hoping that you could Help meend the story.”“How? I don’t know anything

about computers.”“Yes you do, Melissa, only you

don’t remember it. I can Kelpyou remember all about a lotof things. But it will be hard,Melissa, very Hard. All sorts of

strange things will come intoyour head, and you’ll find your-self doing things you never knewyou could do. Will you try it,

57

Melissa, to help us find outthe end of the story?”

"All right, Dr. Ed, if you wantme to.”“Good girly Melissa.”Dr. Paul was whispering to

His colleague. “Switch on ‘PartialMemory* and tell Her to callsubprogram ‘Circuit Analysis.’ ”

“Call ‘Circuit Analysis,’ Melis-

sa.”

All at once, strange things ap-

peared in Her mind. Long stringsof numbers that looked meaning-less, and yet somehow sKe knewthat they did mean differentthings, like resistance, capaci-

tance, inductance. And therewere myriads of lines — straight,zig-zag, curlycue. And formu-lae ...“Read MLSA 5400, Melissa.”

And suddenly, Melissa sawHerself. It was the mostfrightening thing she’d ever ex-

perienced, more scary even thanthe Horrible nightmares.

"Look at Section 4C-79A.”Melissa couldn’t help Herself.

She Had to look. To the littlegirl, it didn’t look much differ-ent from the rest of Herself. Butit was different, she knew. Verymuch different. In fact, it didnot seem to be a natural part ofHer at all, but rather like a brace

used by cripples.Dr. Ed’s voice was tense. “An-

alyze that section and report on

optimum change for maximumreduction of data seepage.”

Melissa tried her best to com-ply, but she couldn’t Somethingwas missing, something she need-ed to know before she could dowhat Dr. Ed Had told her to.She wanted to cry. “I can’t Dr.Ed! I can’t, I can’t!”

“I told you it wouldn’t work,”Dr. Paul said slowly. “We’llhave to switch on the full mem-ory for complete analysis.”“But she’s not ready,” Dr. Ed

protested. “It could kill her.”"Maybe, Ed. But if it does

. . . well, at least we’ll know Howto do it better next time. Melis-sa!”

“Yes, Dr. Paul?”“Brace yourself, Melissa. This

is going to Hurt.”

And, with' no more warningthan that, the world hit Melissa.

Numbers, endless streams ofnumbers — complex numbers,real numbers, integers, subscripts,

exponents. And there were bat-tles, wars more horrible andbloody than the ones she’d

dreamed, and casualty lists thatwere more than real to her be-cause she knew everything aboutevery name — Height, weight,hair color, eye color, marital sta-

tus, number of dependents . . .the list went on. And there werestatistics — average pay for busdrivers in Ohio, number ofdeaths due to cancer in the U.S.

58 GALAXY

1965 to 1971, average yield of

wheat per ton of fertilizer con-sumed. . . .

Melissa was drowning in a seaof data.

“Help me, Dr. Ed, Dr. Paul.Help me!” she tried to scream.But she couldn’t make HerselfHeard. Somebody else was talk-ing. Some stranger sKe didn’teven know was using Her voiceand saying things about imped-ance factors and semiconductors.And Melissa was falling deep-

er and deeper, pushed on by tHerelentlessly advancing army ofinformation.

Five minutes later, Dr. EdwardBloom opened the switch and

separated the main memory fromthe personality section. “Melis-

sa,” He said softly, "everything’sall riglit now. We know How thestory’s going to end. THe scien-tists asked tHe computer to rede-sign itself, and it did. There won’tbe any more nightmares, Melis-sa. Only sweet dreams from nowon. Isn’t tfiat good news?”

Silence.

“Melissa?” His voice was highand shaky. “Can you Hear me,Melissa? Are you there?”But there was no longer any

room in the ML5A 5403 for alittle girl.

—STEPHEN GOLDIN

Announcing —THE GALAXY AWARDS

Galaxy Publishing Corporation announces the establishment of an-nual awards for excellence in science-fiction writing. Every story appear-ing in the magazines galaxy and If in issues dated 1968 will be eligiblefor the first series of awards, which will consist of:

1968 Galaxy Award$1,000.00

for the best story of the year. Honorable Mention will receive $250; thenext runner-up will receive $100.

The procedure by which the winning stories will be selected Is in-tended to reflect the judgment of the readers of Gglaxy and If. Principalreliance will be placed on a mail survey of a randomly selected group ofsubscribers to the magazines in making the awards. Questionnaires askingfor preferences will be circulated to these subscribers approximately onemonth after the December issues appear.

SWEET DREAMS, MELISSA 59

SUBWAYTHE STARS

RAYMOND F. JONES

//

a

It was to be the greatest Train

Robbery of all Space. Or maybe

treason. Or just a horse trade.

The ad said:No GolfingNo FishingNo BoatingNo Skiing

It gave an address. HarryWiseman glanced at it and toss-ed the paper across the room.Some Madison Avenue funnyman was trying a switch on theold country-club appeal to en-

gineers. Obviously, Ke expectedSweat and Guts Engineering Only it to bring in those who saw

themselves as hairy-chested types,

immune to the lures of soft sub-urban living.

Harry's visitor picked up tfiepaper and folded it neatly andlaid it on the sofa beside Him.

“I’m Hardly interested in akook outfit like that,” said Harry.THe visitor raised His eyebrows

in mild surprise. “We tfiougHtyou might be,” He said, “consid-ering your past record and tfiefact that you Have been out ofwork for— let’s see— it’s almostsix months, now, isn’t it?” Helooked at the ceiling as if Hiscareful mental calculations mustnot be disturbed.“WBo the devil are you?” Har-

ry demanded. “CIA?”He could imagine no other

outfit with the crust to demandHe take a specified employmentbecause they wanted Him to. Hecould think of nothing, either,

that could have brought Him totheir attention. That Vietnamdeal —The visitor remained expres-

sionless.

“And what do you mean aboutmy past record?” Harry said.“I’ve kept my nose clean.”

"Sure. You’ve just moved itaround too much. Like leavingyour Vietnam assignment Halffinished, for someone else to cleanup.”

“I Had been there almost eight-een months,” said Harry.

62

“Dropping a multi-million dol-lar operation in midstream— youcost the Government a lot ofmoney.”“Not if they’d quit buying

from outfits owned by Senators*brothers-in-law.”

“TecKnical Contract Negotiator

for the Air Force. GS-18. Not abad salary with per diem and in-come tax rebate for foreign resi-dence. But you walked out. Saidyou wanted to get back to straightengineering.”

C 4T walked out because I flippedmy lid,” said Harry. “My

wife chose that precise time to sur-

prise me witH a divorce suit andI got drunk for three months.”“In the divorce action your wife

brought out the fact that youwere notably unstable in yourwork activities. You moved sooften you obtained a pretty wide-ly known reputation as a float-er.”

“You’re saying it,” said Harrybitterly. “You seem to know allabout me.”“So mucH so that we feel it

rather urgent to insist you takethis job opening which Smith In-dustries Has available.”

“And if I don’t?”“If you don’t, I can promise

that you’re not going to get anengineering job anywhere, not

even as second assistant foreman

in a button Hook factory.”

GALAXY

“So you are CIA,” said Harry.“Let’s say we are able to keep

our promises.”An awful illumination burst

upon Harry. “It’s you who havebeen keeping me out of workSince I got back!”

The visitor shook his Head."You just don’t walk out withoutnotice from top-drawer engineer-ing jobs. Not unless you want ablackball tied permanently to

your tail. And that’s what youHave got The word has gone out:Harry Wiseman is most unreli-able.”

“How do you know this SmitHIndustries will hire me — witha blackball tied to my tail?”

“They’re looking for your type.

Independents they want,”

“Then I could get a job withthem on my own. Your threatsdon’t mean anything!”“Not quite. We’d be forced to

let them know it was undesirableto hire you under those cir-cumstances. They’d see it our

way. Operating in foreign coun-

tries as they do, it’s essential that

Smith Industries have Govern-ment sanction.” x

(C A 11 right,” said Harry wear-ily. “What do you want

me to do?”“Apply for a job with Smith

tomorrow. Then report to us reg-ularly on what you are doing,what kind of a job and what

SUBWAY TO THE STARS

kind of a firm you are witfi.’*“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Why can’t you find out with-out all this flummery?”

"Because Smith plays it close*We’ve tried to get a man into hisshop before. He takes only topengineering talent and he knowsit when he sees it. But we didn’ttry very hard last time. Now it’surgent that we find out.”“Why?”“Because they may get wiped

off the map at any moment.”“And me with them?”“Possibly.”

“Smith’s ad doesn’t build up’the deal much, and you sure arenot doing anything for it”The visitor ignored Harry’s

comment "Smith operates in oneof the New Nations of Africa. It’sa few thousand square miles rightin the middle of the continentWhen it was a British Protector-ate, Smith obtained a miningconcession, and He’s managed tohang onto it The local govern-ment of Gambua is made up ofspear-throwing natives who stillwear white men’s teeth as neck-laces, but Smith Has survived sofar. THe New Nation next dooris the Addabas, Hereditary foesof the Gambuans. But they don’t'throw spears any more. They’vegot Russian missiles on mobilelaunchers, and one of them is inplace right now with' a bead on

63

IISmith’s operation. We want toknow what that operation is tie-fore tKe missile is fired.”

“You said it was a miningconcession.’’

“It is— as a cover for whateverSmitti is really doing. He Hasnearly two Hundred people, andHe Hasn’t sfiipped out any ore forten yearn. Maybe tHe operationIs simply a dud. But maybe it'ssomething we ought to knowabout, since tlie Communists arewilling to expend a few millionrubles worth of missiles on it.”“Do the Commies actually

know wHat it Is?”THe visitor shook His Head.

“We don’t know. They may beOnly setting up another provoca-tion, a political probe. Or maybesheer cussedness. Who knows? Wewant to find out.”“And I’m to walk into a tar-

get area for Russian missiles thatmight be fired at any moment.”

“There’s a nice bonus for youwhen you get back.”

“7f I get back.”

THe visitor shrugged. “That'sthe risk we all take. Maybe to-morrow’s sunrise will be a Rus-sian fireball. It’s the modern wayof life.”

“How do I know you’re on thelevel?”

THe man arose. “Don’t force usto pressure you. It won’t do ei-ther of us any good. My nameis Collins, by the way.”

64

T Tarry stayed motionless in HisA cfiair as His visitor left, clos-

ing tHe door quietly. Beyond thewindow, the lights of Manhattanwere distant, cold, and unfriend-ly. Harry felt an exhaustion as ifHe had been running for a longtime. As if He didn't Have enoughtroubles, why did one of thesnoop agencies have to pick on

him?It seemed as if it Had been like

that ever since Marcia walkedout. She Had turned out the lightin his world when she left. He’dtried to cut every tie with engi-

neering chores He’d once proudly

called His career. Gadgets for the

Great Society. He’d walked outwithout notice. And so the wordHad been passed around: HarryWiseman is not reliable. A Hun-dred personnel offices Had that intheir files. And now He was vul-nerable to Collins and 12s kind.He turned on tfie table lamp

and picked up tEe paper again.Smith Industries. No Golfing. Noboating. No Etcetra. If it wereon the level it might be some-thing he’d be interested in. Heshould Have seen it himself be-fore Collins walked in. Maybe hecould have been in Africa by now,and Collins would still be lookingfor His sucker contact

Who wanted to go to Africa?To a New Nation, where the na-

GALAXY

tives still wear white men’s teeth

for necklaces?

tT*he office was in one of the

slick new buildings off FifthAvenue. It had pastel carpeting,Danish furniture, and op art on

the walls. There was no sign ofeither sweat or guts.

A half dozen engineering typeswere ahead of him. Collins or no

Collins, he could come back someother time without getting in that

line of has-beens.

The blonde at the desk stop-ped him. “It won’t be long,

Mr. — ”“Wiseman. Harry Wiseman,”

Harry said. “I’m too busy to

wait. Is the head man ready tosee me?”

“If you’ll just fill out this ap-

plication card, Mr. Smith can see

you in a few minutes.” Theblonde smiled persuasively. “It’s

just a small card — ”“All right,” he said grudgingly.

“If I can borrow a pen — ”It would have to be a guy

named Smith. Couldn’t they bemore original? But the blondewas right. After ten minutes of

filling out the small yellow card

Harry was alone. The other sixtypes were gone, and Harry was

invited into the office of Mr.Smith.

Smith was a Civil Engineeringtype. His history was written onhis weather-tough face. A dam or

a pipeline foreman in his twonties in some desert country. Aproject supervisor in his thirties.

Vice-president and world-widetroubleshooter in his forties. Nowin the home office in his fifties.But — interviewing recruits? Itdidn’t fit.

Harry wondered how mucfiCollins’s interest in the companywas justified.Smith looked at Harry’s appli-

cation. “What’s your specialty?”“Microwave. Over-the-horizon

radar,” said Harry.

"Nice,” said Mr. Smith. “Verygood.” He glanced up. "Mar-ried?”

“Was,” said Harry. “No more.”“We like our people to be

married,” said Mr. Smith withsudden fatherliness. “We providethe opportunity.” He turnedaway to a filing cabinet and ex-tracted a folder. He opened it andfaced Harry again.

“I’m afraid you have a ratherunenviable job record,” he said.There it was again. The same

tune Collins had played, Harrywondered if they worked together.“What do you mean, unenvia-

ble?” he flared. “Guys with forty-grand houses and garden-club

wives would give an eye far ajob record like mine. I was atThule when their BMEWS radarwas burned in.”“And dismissed shortly there-

after — ”SUBWAY TO THE STARS 65

“The main work was done. Nouse Hanging around. Besides theywere already getting Behind thestate of the art and didn’t wantgood advice on How to update.I was in Korea as Systems En-gineer, troubleshooting the — butthat system is still too classifiedto talk about.”

K'VT’ou walked off that job,”-said Smith, “when it was

half finished and left somebodyelse to clean up. You were mak-ing thirty grand a year and youwalked off the job.” He shook Hishead. “And now in Vietnam,— How could you do a thing likethat?”

Harry looked at the floor, hisface slack. “I Had problems. Helooked up again, pulling his fa-cial muscles into position. “Butthey’re all solved now. Besides,how do you know so much aboutme? I’m supposed to be an-swering the questions.”

Mr. Smith tapped the folder.“An arrangement with the localemployment counselors — I Havea dossier on most unemployed en-gineers in the locality. I like to

be prepared when you come in.”“All right. So you’re going to

tell me I’m a no-good boomerand your stable little organiza-tion can’t use a man who hasn’tseen eye to eye with all the dumb'supervisors He’s encountered inthe last twenty years — and who

happens to recognize that the av-erage engineering job can be fill-ed by a well-fed trained seal.Technical knowledge is doublingevery 10 to 15 years? Trivia is

doubling 1”

“On the contrary,” said Mr.Smith mildly. “I like what I see.We’re what you might call amaverick organization ourselves— and we sort of run to mavericktypes in our personnel. Still, withyour job record I don’t knowwhere you could go unless youdecide to team up with us.”“You mean you’ll take me

on?” Harry Hated Himself for theeagerness He couldn’t keep out ofhis voice, Collins’s threats hadnothing to do with it.“That depends,” said Mr.

Smith. “That all depends. Shallwe get down to business?”

Business turned out to be a

wringer that squeezed out every

bit of data pertaining to HarryWiseman’s existence, as if he werea computer tape dumped for to-tal readout. It lasted three days.

Three days of EEG’s, IQ’s, dex-terity tests, aptitude, physical

ability, and psychological endur-ance tests. He had supposed suchthings happened only to capturedsecret agents. When it was over,Mr. Smith knew more about Har-ry Wiseman than Harry Had everknown about Himself. And Har-ry knew a few things He wishedhe didn’t know.

66 GALAXY

There was only one thing lack-ing, No one had told himwhat the job was.

“You’ll learn as you go along,”Mr. Smith said kindly to a drain-

ed exhausted Harry. “We operateaccording to good, on-the-job

training principles.”

Three days of probing, analyz-

ing, and embarrassing inquirieshad lowered Harry's threshold oftolerance. He felt suddenly en-raged. “I don’t think I’m inter-

ested!" And if it hadn’t been forCollins he might have meant it.“You should know now that I

understand you far better thanyou understand yourself. Gohome and rest up. Come back to-morrow, and we’ll complete thedetails.”

He left the building for thefirst time since entering three

days ago. He left hating Smith’sguts. But he hated Collins more.There was no way out.

In his apartment he closedthe door and leaned against it,feeling still the fury of his resent-

ment against Smith. It was grow-ing dark over the city, and hewalked to the window withoutturning on any of the apartmentlights.

The trouble was Collins andSmith were both right. He couldnot get a job with a button hookcompany right now. Marcia hadbeen right, too — before shewalked out. Other engineers his

age had given their wives forty-grand homes by now. Their kidshad swimming pools and privateLSD parties. But Harry Wisemanhad always been the smart guywho was going to find the bigone just over the horizon.Yet — could this be it? Three

days ago he had been desperatefor a job. Now, he had two — ifSmith took him on. One job withSmith and one with Collins. Hewondered if Collins would givehim a decent burial if one of thoseRussian missiles was fired whilehe was there. Except there wouldnot be anything to bury.

He was fascinated by Smith',however. The operation smackedof crackpots. But no crackpotshad devised the probing analysisto which he had been subjected.Smith radiated a fierce and ra-tional energy that had swept upHarry in his presence. Harry hadto admit an attraction by the veryforce and power of the man. Heknew he would have followedthrough even if Collins was notin the background.

Of course, it was possible thatwhat they were doing was strict-ly illegal. But he’d handledtougher customers. Up to now,however, he’d always had an ideawhat he was getting into. If hebought this, however, he’d be go-ing blind.

Still, there was no choice. Noteven a button hook company —

SUBWAY TO THE STARS 67

C/^ood morning,” said Smith.^ “You look as if you hadgood night’s sleep.”“From what you said last night,take it I’m hired.”“I thought you understood

hat.”

“How much?”“We’ll start at twelve thou-

sand. Maybe a little better as.irae goes on. Maybe not.”“I was doing better than twice

hat”“Of course,” said Smith. He

spread his hands in a deprecatinggesture. “But you wouldn’t want:o go back for three times theamount. We’ll feed you and pro-vide your clothes and pay youthe twelve thousand. What moredo you want? Remote control de-vices for airplanes! Any two-bitengineer can do that. You wantbetter things.”

“All right. Where’s the job?

And what is it?”It’s almost precisely in the

center of Africa,” said Mr. Smith."And, as I told you, you’ll find

out what you are to do when youget there. Here are your tickets.You leave from Kennedy Airportat noon.”

Ill

l ie went from New York toRome to Cape Town by

commercial air liner. At CapeTown he boarded a private, ten-

passenger jet with black and or-ange markings. Three fellow pas-sengers boarded with him. Ayoung Chinese. An East Indian.And a man from South Americanamed Roberto Roderiguez. OnlyRoderiguez spoke English. But hewouldn’t talk. He seemed appre-hensive. All of them did.The pilot accepted the cre-

dentials supplied by Smith andsaid nothing.

They flew straight north, pastTanganyika, over the depths ofwhat was once called Darkest Af-rica and which was now a bevyof Emerging Nations. Harryknew that would make no differ-ence if the plane were forceddown. The ship’s occupants mightbe crucified upside down androasted over a slow fire.

Where the hell were they go-ing, anyway?

In the late afternoon a large

clearing appeared off the star-board wing. The pilot banked thejet and began a long swingaround the clearing, which Harryestimated was about two miles indiameter, roughly circular. Theplane dipped toward a runwaynear the south edge, where agroup of buildings crouched. Therest of the area was bare of vege-tation or artifact. Harry detectedthe line of a metal fence against

the jungle. And, faintly, there

seemed to be a pair of oblatehexagonal markings in the sand

68 GALAXY

of the northern two thirds of theclearing.

That was all.Harry saw a few people waiting

as if to receive them at the smallairstrip building. When the planecame to rest, there was a momentof complete silence. The passen-gers looked at one another. Thenthe pilot appeared and openedthe door.

“End of the line. Everybodyout,” he called.Harry slowly followed the oth-

ers down the short flight of stepsto the ground. He stood a mo-ment by the plane, feeling thedense African heat press uponhim. Dark green vegetation be-yond the clearing seemed like animpenetrable wall. The distantscreams of animals pierced the

air.

The others were ahead now.He gripped his briefcase and fol-lowed. Twelve thousand a yearfor whatever Smith wanted donein this jungle hole I

T?rom the shade of the broad^ overhang on the nearest build-ing a girl watched him, but hedid not see Her until he had al-most readied the shadow. After

the blinding sunlight, He could

scarcely see anything.

She extended a hand and said,“I’m Nancy Harris. You must beMr. Wiseman. Welcome to Afri-ca Prime.” She wore a white

dress that contrasted with Hersun-browned skin. He Had the im-pression she was young and verylovely. His eyesight, growing ac-customed to the shadow, confirm-ed the impression. He forgot towonder what was happening tohis fellow passengers. “I’ll showyou to your quarters,” the girlsaid. “I hope you had a nice trip.”“Very nice,” said Harry. And

he refrained from asking aloud,what in Heaven’s name a nicegirl like her was doing here — ina steaming jungle targeted byRussian missiles. But then, shedidn’t know about the missiles.Collin Had warned him not to tellthem. Harry had agreed — hewas agreeable to anything tenthousand miles away.Now, Smith Industries was not

ten thousand miles away and to-tally impersonal. Smith Industrieswas the ground he walked on, itwas the scattering of workmen hewatched moving to and fro at adistance.

Smith Industries was suddenlyNancy Harris.

Africa Prime, she Had said.She watched his face as He

looked over the compound. Shesmiled. “It’s not as serious as all

that, Mr. Wiseman. We do havefun here. We really do,”He brought his eyes back to her

and returned her smile. “Harryis the name,” he said. “And I’msure you do have all kinds of fun

SUBWAY TO THE STARS 69

here — but I’m just not used tobeing dropped into a fenced com-pound in the middle of Africa’sthickest jungle, and being escort-

ed by a pretty girl guide.”“I’m a nurse,” Nancy Harris

said. “We all function as guidesand escorts when new employeescome in. But that really doesn’thappen very often. When I learn-ed an American engineer wascoming, I asked if I might meet

him.”

My pleasure,” said Harry. “Ihope it’s not your disappoint-

ment. Do you ever get away tosee the outside world?”

“I go every month to CapeTown, at least. I’ve been to Na-ples and Paris twice this year. Weare not prisoners, you know.”

“I really don’t know — forsure. I’m still waiting to find out

why I’m here.”“Dr. Ames will explain that de-

tail to you.”

Nancy Harris led him throughthe building, which seemedto be nothing more than a passen-ger and air freight receiving cen-

ter. On the other side was parkeda Jeep with canvas top. Harry

got in beside her.

Nancy drove quickly a quartermile down the narrow lane thatparalleled the fence which held

back the jungle. At the end shestopped beside a group of prefab

buildings that were the quarters of

the station’s personnel. “This ishome,” Nancy said, with a flour-ish of her hand.

It looked better than Harryhad expected.“Your luggage will be brought

up in a little while. I’ll show youyour apartment, and you can re-lax until dinner. I’ll call for youthen and show you our dininghall and other buildings. In themorning Dr. Ames will want tosee you.”

She left him at the door ofhis quarters. Harry entered andshut the door behind him. Heflopped on the bed and gave wayto the fatigue that had overshad-owed him on the flight from an-other time zone. He lay staringat the ceiling and wondering,what next?As soon as he could find out

the nature of the work at thestation he was prepared to maila coded message to Collins, Mailwas flown to Cape Town weeklyon the orange and black jet. Af-ter that, he’d be ready to get out

himself at the first opportunity.

But what of the station person-nel? Would Collins warn Smithabout the Russian missiles?

Should Harry tell them — orwould they by that time find outfor themselves? And suppose theAddabas let their itchy fingersfire the missiles first?

Harry found himself thinkingof Nancy Harris and what to do

70 GALAXY

about her. He didn’t want NancyHarris incinerated in a Russian

fireball.

He speculated on the nature ofthe work going on here. He couldnot imagine anything that was ofany consequence. It was probablysome trivial activity that had noimpact on the commerce or des-tiny of nations. Its only impor-

tance was that the Addabaswanted to wipe it out, and Col-lins’ agency wanted to know whatthey were wiping out. The Rus-sian help was probably just acourtesy, payable in kind at someunknown future date.

T Te fell asleep from exhaustionand aroused only in time to

shave and shower and put on achange of clothes before Nancyshowed up to escort him to din-ner.

“Some of the families eat attheir apartments, for the sake

of privacy,” said Nancy. “Butmany of us. both families andsingle people, eat most of thetime in the dining hall. It’s free,

and wonderfully good.”Harry glanced at her specula-

tively. “You are a single peo-ple?” he said.

“For now,” said Nancy sober-ly. “I wasn’t always — but itdidn’t work out. I came here acouple of years ago just after

—

it didn’t work out.”“There ought to be a pass-

word,” said Harry. “I’m a mem-ber of the club, myself.”

Harry agreed with Nancyabout the food. It was the bestmeal he’d eaten in a long time.

Nancy introduced him to numer-ous engineers and technicians,and to those wives who werepresent.

They greeted him warmly,but there was a jolly cliquish-ness that failed to appeal

to him. He had never been ajoiner, and he didn’t appreciatethe atmosphere of health groups

and hobby clubs.He spoke of it to Nancy af-

terwards.

“They're not all like that,”

she said.

“There are even some realloners here. If that’s the kind

you are, nobody’ll bother you.We’ve got room for all kinds

—

and, believe me, we’ve got all

kinds!”

“I’d like to meet some ofthem.”

“You definitely will — in themorning.”

He doubted his ability to sleepthat night, but he was mistaken.Just before dropping off to sleep,

however, he saw — or later im-agined he saw •— a faint blazeof blue, like some corona dis-charge, hovering over the distant

black space of the compound.He slept, wondering what he hadseen.

SUBWAY TO THE STARS 71

IV

ry',he station was managed bya Director. His name was

Dr. Howard Ames, and he wasnever called Howard. He wasthe king of the loners, Nancysaid.

The phone rang before Harrywas out of bed. It was HowardAmes’s secretary, and she saidDr. Ames would see Harry infifteen minutes.

He began an irritated protestand gave it up. “I’ll be there,”he said. A quick shave and aquicker shower left him six min-utes to dress and reach Ames’soffice. Nancy had pointed it outto him the evening before, andhe was counting on the Jeep,which she had said he could use,to get him there.He made it thirty seconds

late.

Howard Ames was a man inhis late fifties, who looked as ifhe’d lived in the tropics all his

life. He was standing at the win-dow of the dark-panelled officewhen his secretary ushered Har-ry in. He wore the same infor-mal garb of open-necked whiteshirt and cotton trousers thatHarry had seen on most of themen he had met. On Ames, how-ever, it seemed like a uniform.His white hair was short and

ruffled. The skin of his neck wassun-wrinkled. He turned slowly

to view Harry as if he were someunfamiliar specimen.

“I’m familiar with your file,”he said finally. “Is there any-thing else I need to know?”

“I think Mr. Smith obtainedall the pertinent data about me,”said Harry.

“He usually does. You shouldknow that you were hired morefor personal characteristics thanfor your technical capabilities,although these are essential.”

“Mr. Smith thought my per-sonal qualities were rather de-ficient.”

“For some occupations. Notthis.” Ames topped the desk. “Ittakes a certain kind of man —or woman — to support the oc-cupations here.”

“And may I ask, finally, whatthat occupation is?” said Harry.“You may. But you won’t get

the answer now. Some prelim-inary assignments will be requir-ed. Then we’ll determine whatyou need to know.”

any held his temper.“First of all,” said Ames,

“Mr. Smith' probably told youwe exist in a somewhat hostileenvironment.”

“He mentioned the Gambuansand the Addabas don’t get along.”

“Unfortunately, we are right onthe border. Forays from one side

to the other are conducted con-

stantly past our site. It is neces-

72 GALAXY

tary to be prepared. All of usare well qualified in various areasof defense. You will report thismorning to the rifle range."

"I have a Sharpshooter's Med-al — ”"Good. But acquired in some

former war, no doubt Still, per-haps you will need only a rela-tively brief refresher to maintainyour skill. You will report to thepractice range.”

Harry felt his control slipping."I didn’t come here as a mercen-ary guerilla. I was hired for en-gineering!”

“You came Here for whateverpurpose we wish to assign you.Let that be abundantly clear.We are not a military organiza-tion, but we maintain discipline.Orders are executed without de-bate.”

His eyes challenged Harry todispute his authority. Harry forc-ed down the tension of musclesthat wanted to respond with aHard left to that arrogant jaw.He had a feeling that those mus-cles would have their way beforehis stay at Africa Prime ended.“Of course,” he said quietly.

“Is that all?”

“If your marksmanship is asadequate as you think, you willbe assigned to helicopter patrolas gunner and1 observer. We findIt necessary to mount a constantair patrol of the border for ourown protection. The Gambuans

reciprocate for the intelligence In-

formation we are able to supplythem?”Harry wondered if Ames Had

any knowledge of the Russianmissiles Collins Had mentioned.He debated mentioning them, and

.decided against it. He’d like tospot them himself — if they ex-isted. There was no proof yet ofCollins’ story.

“I’ll do the best I can,” saidHarry smugly.Ames’ glance Hardened at the

time of Harry’s response. “If youdo well,” he said evenly, “youwill shortly be assigned to im-portant engineering duties. Report

to the practice range. My secre-tary will instruct you.”

T Tarry was not surprised to find* his three companions of theflight from Cape Town also atthe range. They appeared a littlelater, apparently having been in-terviewed by Ames after he was.They all knew how to Handleguns reasonably well, Harry ob-served. Most men of their agehad had the experience some-where in the world.Harry was the best.The instructor was evidently an

old drill sergeant from some armyand some war. He grunted withreluctant satisfaction at Harry’s

scores. He snapped orders as ifhe’d never left the service. Buthis grunts were unintelligible

SUBWAY TO THE STARS 73

when Harry tried to find out whohe was and where he came from.Even his nationality was doubt-ful to Harry. He had the accentof a Belgian and the complexionof some Mediterranean national.He released Harry from furtherroutine training and gave him aslip of paper.

“Report for border patrol.Frank Declaux’s section. He eatssmart boys for lunch.”“Some day,” Harry reflected,

he was going to have to comeback and take on this whole crew.That night he saw Nancy Har-

ris again and told her of his ad-ventures of the day. She laughedat his grim description. “That’s

just part of the preliminaries —a necessary one, however.” Herhumor disappeared. “You’ll re-alize in time that this is one of

the most important projects inthe world, but it’s in terrible

danger. This conflict between theGambuans and the Addabascould overrun us at any time.We’re attempting to assure our

own survival, but we’re not at allcertain it’s enough.”

“Tell me something about theproject, Nancy. It’s all so myste-rious and hush-hush. Yet I getthe feeling everybody knows allabout it but me.”“Don’t ask me to tell you. I

can’t. Dr. Ames will give you theinformation when he wants youto have it. And then you’ll see

why he has to be so careful ofnew employees.”

T~\eclaux was an Algerian. Atleast he boasted as much as

he showed his contempt for Har-ry’s naive skills.

“It’s an honor to be assignedwith so experienced a flyer,” said

Harry. “I’ll be way ahead withyou showing me the ropes.”He was Harry’s man then. He

smiled expensively. “You stickwith Frank Declaux; you’ll knowmore than any ten men hereabout helicopter observation.”Equipment was newer and bet-

ter than any Harry had seen inVietnam. Direct-view infra-red

cameras permitted constant scan-ning of the jungle, with picture

taking as simple as snapping the

shutter of an ancient Brownie.The jungle-covered trails cross-

ing the border below them stoodout on the screen like narrow high-ways. Motorized escorts werepicked up a time or two on theGambuan side.Harry eyed a distant Addaban

valley. “Do you ever fly overthose hills?” he asked.

The pilot shook his head. “Wehave orders to stay on this side.Sometimes snipers shoot at useven then. They brought downone of our ’copters last week.Keep the camera down I”Harry had raised the mirror

viewer to scan briefly the distant

74 GALAXY

hills and valley. But nothingcould be seen across the ridges.

“How do you know there aren’tmortars or guns across those

hills?” said Harry. “How do youknow the Addabas haven’t gotsomething even bigger?”

“Like what?” said Declaux.

“Like missiles, maybe.”The pilot scoffed. “Those dumb

natives don’t have anything like

that!”

“Little' missiles. Mortars, at

least."

Declaux looked worriedly.“Mortars they could have. Whoknows where they’d get them?But they could have mortars, allright Almost anybody can getmortars nowadays.”“We ought to know,” said

Harry.

Declaux agreed silently. “Butwe have orders not to cross theborder,” he said.

week later they crossed.Harry played upon the pi-

lot’s desire to excel, until at last

Frank Declaux recognized wliata coup it would be to be the firstto detect the presence of enemyheavy armament. If it existed.They flew north, crossing the

Invisible boundary in the mat ofJungle below. “But if they startshooting, we go back — quick!”laid Frank Declaux. He lookedOver the side in uneasy anticipa-

tion of a crash landing.

“Those hills to the left,” saidHarry. “Twenty degrees. If there’sanything to be found I think itwill be over there.”He pressed his face to the cam-

era viewer, watching the ghostlikespectacle of the jungle. Its bones

stood revealed in stark fluores-

cent glow, the trails and road-ways etched out of the growthin twisting lines. He spotted acamp site ahead and steered De-claux away from it. A tiny burstof light off to the left revealed

a sniper’s pot shots. He steeredaway from that area, too.

If missile launchers were actu-ally hidden in the jungle, how-ever, the enemy would probablydepend on camouflage and jun-gle cover to keep the position hid-den, rather than reveal it nowwith anti-aircraft fire.

But he had to agree with De-claux. If they ran into any heavyfire they’d have to retreat — ifthey were able!For more than half an hour he

guided the pilot in a zig-zag

sweep of the approach to the val-ley beyond the low ridge of hills.Once or twice again, sniper fireburst harmlessly below them, andthey swung away. Then they wereover the ridge and looking intothe valley. Harry swept the cam-era back and forth. The junglehere was even heavier than

around the compound of AfricaPrime. The image on the IR

SUBWAY TO THE STARS 75

screen was almost featureless.Then he saw it. A faint glow of

angular lines, distorted and melt-ing into one another.

“Northeast, sixty-five degrees,”

He said td Declaux. “Take it easy.If they’re going to clobber us,

it will be here.”He Had no intention of flying

directly over the hidden mobilelauncher. And it wasn’t necessary.In another two minutes the tele-scopic sight of the IR viewer Hadpicked up a sufficiently discerni-ble outline of the same kind Har-ry had seen a hundred times inVietnam.

He turned the film feed andsnapped the shutter a dozentimes.

Included in the view was ananti-craft battery that Had themdead targeted.

“Let’s get the Hell out of Here,”

said Harry.

It was his last observationflight.

Dr. Ames called for him to op-pear the next morning. An-other man was with the Directorwhen Harry entered the office.“Mr. Wiseman,” said Dr.

Ames, “I want you to meet SteveMartin. This is Harry Wiseman,the engineer I mentioned to you,

Steve. Harry Has just finished astint of observation patrol with

Declaux.”

Harry shook Hands with the

stranger. Steve Martin was quiet,hard, and purposeful. He had anair of knowing something thatwas better not known.“Mr. Martin is Operations

Manager,” said Ames. “He takescare of everything from orderingthumbtacks to — Well, Steve willshow you. I’m putting you di-rectly under his wing. He doesn’thave the time for many of ournewcomers. But lie saw your rec-ord and asked if He might takeover your indoctrination.”

Harry glanced at the expres-sionless face of the Operations

Manager. He wondered whatSteve Martin had seen in His rec-ord that moved him to such a re-quest.

“Mr. Smith recommended Mr.Wiseman very highly,” said Ames.

“We’ll see,” said Steve Martin,

finally. He turned. “If that’s all,Dr. Ames, we’ve got an urgentmodule exchange to handle thismorning.”

“That’s all,” said Ames. “I’ll

see you again in a few days,” hesaid to Harry.

The largest building in thecompound, and the one closest tothe bare, sandy plain which com-

prised most of the area Had beenidentified to Harry as the Oper-ation Center. Harry had beenwarned away from it, but now herode toward it with' Steve Martin.

The buildingwas a square, whiteblock that reminded Harry of a

76 GALAXY

Federal Reserve Bank, weirdly

misplaced from a middle-sizeAmerican town to the Africanjungle. A guard house stood be-side a fenced entrance like that of

some secret defense plant. SteveMartin parked the jeep beside a

row of a dozen others. Harry slip-ped on the special badge Martinhad given him.The guard waved them through'

Without delay.

•’ph'e building seemed utterly si-

lent. Harry glimpsed the greatcentral section which was filledwith banks of equipment thatlooked like computing, recording,

indicating, and control panels. Aeouple of operators broke the long

emptiness of the aisles.

Steve Martin led the wayquickly to an elevator opening offthe corridor. Inside, he puncheda 10 button. But the elevator didnot rise. It dropped swiftly, andHarry watched the indicator. Tenlevels. A hundred feet or more be-neath the surface. He speculatedon the magnitude of engineeringand construction responsible forthis