“A most ingenious scheme,” the chief nodded. “It might well succeed, given time.”

“And then ... we wouldn’t stay here. We wouldn’t want to. This isn’t our civilization. We’d go back, get revenge for Earth, establish ourselves among familiar planets. Or else we’d make a clean break, go far beyond every frontier, colonize a wholly new world. We are not your competitors. Not in the long run. Can’t you understand?”

“Even the short run is proving unpleasant for us,” the chief said. “And as for long-range consequences, you may depart, but the corporate structure you will have built up—still more important, the methods and ideas you intro-duce—those will remain. Forsi cannot cope with them. So, you will now go with us through the rear exit. A private gravsled is waiting to bring us to the spaceport.”

The waldo operators put arms and legs into the transmis-sion sheaths, heads into the control hoods. A robot reached out for Sigrid.

She dodged. It lumbered after her. She fled across the room. No use yelling. Every apartment in this city was soundproofed. The second robot closed in from the other side. They herded her toward a corner.

“Behave yourself!” The chief rose and rapped on the table. “There are punishments—”

She didn’t hear the rest. Backed against a wall, she saw the gap between the machines and moved as if to go through it. The robots glided together. Sigrid spun on her heel and went to the right. An arm scooped after her. It brushed her hair, then she was past.

The robots whirled and ran in pursuit. She snatched up a stool and threw it. The thing bounced off metal. Useless, useless. She scuttled toward the door. A robot got there first. She ran back. A Forsi left his seat and intercepted her.

Cold arms closed about her waist. She snarled and brought her knee sharply up. Vulnerable as a man, the creature yammered and let go. She sprang by him. The stool lay in her path. She seized it and brought it down on a bald head at the table. The thonk! was loud above their voices. Up onto the table top she jumped. The chief grabbed at her ankles. She kicked him in one bulging eye. As he sagged, cursing his pain, she stepped on his shoulder and leaped down behind. Running faster than human, the robots were on either side of her. She dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the table. The Forsi shouted and scrambled. For a minute or more they milled around, interfered with the robots. She saw their thick gray legs churn and stamp.

Someone bawled an order. The Forsi moved out of the way. One robot lifted the table. Sigrid rose as it did. The other approached her. She balanced, waiting. As it grabbed, she threw herself forward. The hands clashed together above her head. She went on her knees before its legs. There was just room to squeeze between. She twisted clear, bounced to her feet, and pelted toward the rear exit. No doubt it wouldn’t open for her—How long had she dodged and ducked? How long could she?

The breath was raw in her gullet.

The front door spoke. “Open!” Sigrid yelled, before any-one could shout a negative. And it was not set to obey only a few beings. It flung wide.

Four sha-Eyzka stood there. And Alexandra, Alexandra. She had the only gun. It flew to her hand. The robots wheeled and pounced. A bullet ricocheted off one breastplate with a horrible bee-buzz. Alexandra’s face twisted in a grin. She held her ground as the giants neared, aimed past them, and fired twice. The operators slumped. The robots went dead.

The Forsiu leader howled a command. Recklessly, his followers attacked. Two more were shot. Then they were upon Alexandra and her companions in a wave.

Sigrid ran around the melee. To the control panels! She yanked one body from its seat. The sheaths and masks didn’t fit her very well, and she wasn’t used to waldo opera-tion in any event. However, skill wasn’t needed. Strength sufficed. The robot had enough of that. She began plucking gray forms off her rescuers and disabling them. The fight was soon over.

An Eyzka called the police corporation while the others secured the surviving Forsii. “There’s going to be one all-time diplomatic explosion about this, my dear,” Alexandra panted. “Which ... I think ... Terran Traders, Inc., can turn to advantage.”

Sigrid grinned feebly. “What a ravening capitalist you have become,” she said.

“I have no choice, have I? You were the one who first proposed that we turn merchants.” The Yugoslav girl heft-ed her gun. “But if violence is to be a regular thing, I will make a suggestion or two. Not that you did badly in that department, either. When you weren’t home, and Taltla said the hallway reeked of cologne, I knew something was amiss. Whoo, what a dose you gave yourself! A week’s baths won’t clean it all off. These lads I got together to help me could even follow-where you’d gone by sled, you left such a scent.” She looked at the sullen prisoners. Her head shook, her tongue clicked. “So they thought to get tough with us? Poor little devils!”

9

Waken, all of King Volmer’s men!

Buckle on rusted swords again,

Fetch in the churches the dust-covered shield,

Blazoned by trolls and the beasts of the field,

Waken your horses, which graze in the mould,

Set in their bellies the rowels of gold,

Leap toward Gurre town,

Now that the sun is down!

—Jacobsen

Rain came from the north on a wind that bounced it smoking off roofs and flattened the snake trees on runneling mud. Lightning glared above, stark white and then a blink of darkness; thunder banged through all howls and gurgles. The Loho crawled into their beehive huts and wallowed together, each heap a family. Not even the Tall Masters could demand they work in such weather! Only Dzhugach Base, domes and towers and sky-pointing ships, held firm in the landscape. During the past few weeks, Donnan had come to know the Kandemirians well enough that he suspected a certain symbolism when Koshcha of the Zhanbulak told him over the intercom that the paragrav detector would receive a free-space test as scheduled. He saluted and switched off the speaker. “They’re on their way, boys,” he said. “Twit-ter-tweet—” he meant one of the natives that did menial work around the place; a few spoke Uru—“remarked to me that it’s raining cats and dogs, which on this planet means tigers and wolverines. But our chums aren’t going to let that stop them.”

He saw how the forty men grew taut. Howard moistened his lips, O’Banion crossed himself, Wright whispered some-thing to Rogers, Yule in his loneliness on the fringe clamped fists together till the knuckles stood white. “Calm down, there,” Donnan said. “We don’t want to give the show away yet. Maybe no one here savvies English or can read a human expression, but they aren’t fools.”

Goldspring wheeled forward the detector, haywired ugli-ness on a lab cart. The biggest chunk of luck so far in this caper, Donnan thought, had been Koshcha’s agreement to let them have one model here in their living quarters to tinker with when Goldspring and his assistants were not actually in the base workshop. To be sure, the human re-quest was reasonable. In the present state of the art, an interferometric detector was not a standardized jigsaw puz-zle but a cranky monster made to work by cut and try. So the more time Goldspring had to fool around with such gadgets, the sooner he would get at least one of the lot functioning. This was the more true as the detectors being built here were much scaled up from the one he had used aboard the Hrunna.

As for the rest of the men, especially those not qualified to help in the workshop, they also benefited. Without some-thing like this, to think about and discuss, they might have gone stir crazy. No hazard was involved to the Kandemir-ians, no fantasy about the prisoners turning a micro-ultra-filtmeter into a Von Krockmeier hyperspace lever and es-caping. Koshcha’s physics team knew precisely what each electronic component was and for what mathematical reason it was there. No Earthling touched any equipment until Goldspring’s lectures had convinced some very sharp minds that his theory was sound and his circuit diagrams valid. Furthermore, the prison suite was bugged. Nevertheless, Koshcha might well have refused Donnan’s request for parts to build a detector in the living quarters. If so, Donnan’s plan for crashing out would not have been completely invalidated, but the escape of the entire human crew would have been impossible.

Not that it looked very probable yet.

Goldspring’s face glistened with sweat. “Ready to go, then ... I think,” he said. The few trained men who were supposed to accompany him into space today gathered close around, apart from the rest. Donnan joined their circle. His grin at them was the merest rictus. His own mouth was dry and he couldn’t smell their sweat, he stank so much himself. His awareness thrummed. But he functioned with an efficiency that a distant part of him admired. The technicians around the cart shielded it from the telecom eye. Goldspring unbolted a cover on the awkward machine. Donnan plunged his hands into its guts.

A minute later he nodded and stepped back. Goldspring returned the cover. Ramri joined Donnan, taking the man’s arm and standing close to hide the bulge under the coat.

“Do you truly believe we shall succeed?” the Monwaingi fluted in English.

“Ask me again in an hour,” Donnan said. Idiotically, since they had discussed this often before: “You sure you can operate such a boat, now? I mean, not just that it’s built for another species than yours, but the whole layout’ll be new. The manuals will be in a foreign language. Even the instruments, the meters—Kandemirian numbers are based on twelve, aren’t they?—I mean—”

“I believe we can do it,” Ramri said gently. “Spaceships from similar planets do not differ that much from each oth-er. They cannot. As for navigation tables and the like, I do have some familiarity with the Erzhuat language.” His feathers rose, so that blueness rippled along them. “Carl-my-friend, you must not be frightened. This is a moment for glory.”

“Tell me that, too, later on.” Donnan tried to laugh. He failed.

“No, can you not understand? Had there been no such hope as this, I would have ended my own life weeks ago. So nothing can be lost today. In all the years I spent on Earth as an agent of the Tanthai traders, I never grasped why the onset of hope should terrify you humans more than despair does.”

“Well, we, uh, we just aren’t Monwaingi, I reckon.”

“No. Which is best. What a splendid facet of reality was darkened when Earth came to an end! I do not think there can ever have been a nobler concept than your own coun-try’s constitutional law. And chess, and Beethoven’s last quartets, and—” Ramri squeezed the arm he held. “No, forgive me, my friend, your facet is not gone. It shall shine again ... on New Earth.”

They said no more. A thick stillness descended on the room.

After some fraction of eternity, the main door opened. Four soldiers glided in and posted themselves, two on either side, guns covering the men. Koshcha and half a dozen associates followed. The chief physicist gestured imperiously. “Come along, you,” he snapped in Uru. “Goldspring’s party. The rest get back there.”

Donnan and Ramri advanced. The Kandemirians seemed endlessly tall. They’ve only got thirteen or fourteen inches on you, Donnan told himself under the noise in his head. That don’t signify. The hell it doesn’t. Longest fourteen inches I ever looked up. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to come too,” he said.

“In fact, I’d like to take our full com-plement along.”

“What nonsense is this?” Koshcha stiffened.

Donnan came near enough to buttonhole the scientist, if a buttonhole had been there. “We’re all technically trained,” he argued. “We’re used to working as a team. We’ve all riddled around with the detector you let us build in here, talked about it, made suggestions. You’d find our whole bunch useful.”

“Crammed into a laboratory flitter with my own person-nel?” Koshcha scoffed. “Don’t be a clown, Donnan.”

“But damn it, we’re going off our trolleys in here. The agreement was we’d switch sides and work for your planet. Well, we’ve done so. We’ve produced several detectors in your workshops and one in here. Their ground tests have been satisfactory. So when are you going to start treating us like allies instead of prisoners?”

“Later. I tell you, no arrangements—”

Donna pulled the gun from beneath his coat and jammed it into Koshcha’s belly. “Not a move!” he said in a near whisper. “Don’t so much as twitch a tendril. Anybody.”

The unhuman eyes grew black with pupil dilation. One soldier, tried to swing his rifle around from its inward aim. Ramri kicked; three talons struck with bone-breaking force. The weapon clattered down as the soldier doubled in an-guish.

Donnan could only hope that his men, crowding near, screened this tableau from the telecom eye with their backs—and that the Kandemirians in the warden’s office were too confident by now to watch the spy screen continuously. “Drop your guns or Koshcha dies,” he said.

Like most nomadic units, this one was organized by clans; the technicians and their bodyguards were blood rela-tives. And the leader of the group was also a senior Zhan-bulak. Furthermore, Donnan had plainly thumbed his rifle to continuous-fire explosive. Before he could be shot, he would have chewed up several Kandemirians. The three soldiers who still covered his men with their own guns might have threatened to shoot them. But the soldiers were too shaken. Donnan heard their rifles fall. “About face,”

he commanded. “To the hangar ... march!”

The Kandemirians stumbled out the door, looking stunned, and down a long, bare, coldly lit corridor. Donnan paced them at the rear, his gun in the crook of an arm. His crew surged after. Koshcha’s mind must be churning below that red ruff. How had the Terrestrials gotten a weapon? By what treach-ery, through what rebellious Loho or (oh, unthinkable!) what bribed clansman? Maybe in another minute or two someone would guess the answer. But that would be too late. Four men behind Donnan had guns now, dropped by the guards.

Four real guns.

Hand-make a new type of device. Complicate your prob-lem by building it on a larger scale than before. Your cir-cuits will remain essentially the same, and understandable. Your captors will issue you precisely those conductors, re-sistors, amplifiers and other components that you can prove you need. But who pays attention to the chassis? It is only a framework, supporting and enclosing the instrument’s vi-tals. You may have to adjust this or that electronic part to compensate for its properties, but not by much. The chassis is negligible.

So if anyone asks’why you are turning out a slim hollow cylinder on lathe and drill beam, explain casually that it is to strengthen the frame and hold a sheaf of wires. If your angle braces have odd shapes, this must be dictated by the geometry of the layout. If a hole in the cabinet, acciden-tally burnt through, is repaired by bolting a scrap of metal over it, who will notice the outline of that scrap? And so on and so on.

Come the moment of untruth, you quickly remove those certain parts from the chassis, fit them together, and have quite a good imitation of a cyclic rifle.

If the scheme had failed, Donnan wasn’t sure what he would have done. Probably have yielded completely and let Kandemir have his soul. As matters had developed, though, he was committed. If his plan went up the spout now, his best bet was to try and get himself killed. Fair enough, he thought.

They started down a ramp. Two noncoms going the other way saluted. They couldn’t hide their surprise at the human crowd in the officers’ wake. “Let ’em have it, boys,” Don-nan said. “Quiet, though.”

A gun burped. The noncoms fell like big loose-jointed puppets. Their blood was darker red than a man’s. Donnan wondered momentarily if they had wives and kids at home.

“No, you murderer!” Koshcha stopped, half turning around. Donnan jerked the fake gun at him.

“March!”

They hustled on. There was little occasion, especially to-day, for anyone to use the flitter hangar. But on arrival—

Two sentries outside the gate slanted their rifles forward. “Halt! By what authority—” A blast from behind Donnan smashed them to fragments, smeared across the steel panels. A Kandemirian prisoner roared, wheeled, and sprang at him. He gave the fellow his gun butt in the mouth. The Kandemirian went to one knee, reached forward and caught Donnan’s ankle. They rolled over, grappling for the throat. Rifles coughed above them. An alarm began to whistle.

“The door’s locked!” Ramri shouted. “Here, give me a weapon, I shall try to blast the lock.”

The Kandemirian’s smashed mouth grinned hatred at Donnan. The giant had gotten on top of him, twelve fingers around the windpipe. Donnan felt his brain spin to-ward blackness. He set his own wrists between the enemy’s and heaved outward with all the force in his shoulders. The black nails left bloody tracks as they were pulled free. Don-nan slugged below the chest. Nothing happened. The Kan-demirians didn’t keep a solar plexus there. He climbed to a sitting position by means of the clansman’s tunic. The un-fairly long arms warded him off. Thumbs sought his eye-balls. He ducked his head and pummeled the enemy’s back.

Ramri left the sprung door in a single jump. One kick by a spurred foot opened the Kandemirian’s rib cage. Don-nan crawled from beneath. The alarm skirled over his heart-beats and his gulps for air.

“Hurry!” Howard shouted. “I hear ’em coming!”

The men poured through, into the cavernous hangar. Rank upon rank of small spacecraft gleamed almost as far as you could see. One was aimed roofward in its cradle. The airlock stood open. A fight ramped around there, as the humans attacked its crew.

“I must have a few moments aboard to study the controls,” Ramri said to Donnan, who lurched along on Gold-spring’s arm. “I know that one alone can manage a flitter in an emergency, but I am not certain how, in this case.”

“We’ll oblige you,” Lieutenant Howard said. He called out orders. A good man, Donnan thought remotely; a damn good second-rank officer. His trouble had been trying to be skipper. Well, I’m not showing up any too brilliantly in that post either, am I?

A flying wedge of humans formed behind Howard. He had a gun. The rest had mass and desperation. They charged over the gang ramp and through the lock. The Kan-demirians gave way—no choice—and tried to follow. The remaining Terrestrials fell on them afresh. Bullets raved.

“Let’s get you aboard also, captain,” Goldspring said. “Get everybody aboard. We haven’t much time.”

“Haven’t any time,” said Yule. “Here comes the gar-rison.”

A few giants loomed at the sagging door. Slugs hailed around them. One fell, the other two ran from sight. “They’ll be back,” Donnan mumbled. “And there are more en-trances than this. We need a few men to hunker down—the boats and cradles ‘11 provide cover—and stand ’em off till we can lift. Gimme a gun, somebody. Volunteers?”

“Here,” said Yule. A curious, peaceful look descended on his face. He snatched away the rifle which O’Banion had handed Donnan.

“Gimme that,” Donnan choked.

“Get him aboard, Mr. Goldspring,” Yule ordered. “He’ll be needed later on.”

Donnan clung to the physicist, too dizzy and beaten to protest. Goldspring regarded Yule for a second or two. “Whoever stays behind will probably be killed,” he said slowly. Yule spat. “I know. So what? Not that I’m any goddam hero. But I’m a man.”

“I’ll design a weapon in your name,” Goldspring said. “I thought of several while we were here.”

“Good.” Yule shoved him toward the lock. Three other men joined the rearguard. They posted themselves where-ever they could find shelter. Presently they were alone, except for the dead. Then, from several directions, the Kandemirians poured in. Explosions echoed under the roof. Thermite blazed and ate. Goldspring risked his life to appear in the airlock and wave: We can go now.

“You know damn well my squad ‘ud never make it,” Yule shouted at him. “Shut that door, you idiot, and let us get back to work!” He wasn’t sure if Goldspring could hear through the racket or see through the smoke and reek. But after a few seconds the lock closed. The flitter sprang from its cradle. Automatic doors opened above. Rain poured in, blindingly, for the moment that the flitter needed to depart.

—“We are safe,” Ramri sighed.

“From everything but missiles and half the Grand Fleet, trying to head us off before we make an interference fringe,” Donnan said grimly.

“What can they do but annihilate us?”

“Uh ... yes. I see what you mean. Safe.”

Ramri peered into the viewscreen. Lightning had given way to the stars. “My friend,” he said, and hesitated.

“Yes?” Donnan asked.

“I think—” The troubled voice faded. “I think we had best change course again.” The Monwaingi touched con-trols. They were depending on random vectors to elude pur-suit. After all, space was big and the Kandemirian defenses had been designed to halt things that moved planetward, not starward.

“That isn’t what you were getting at,” Donnan said.

“No.” Decision came. Ramri straightened until his pro-file jutted across the constellations.

“Carl-my-friend, I offer apology. But many years have passed since I saw my own people. I am the only one here who can read enough Erzhuat to pilot this vessel. I shall take us to Katkinu.”

“Shucks, pal,” Donnan said. “I expected that. Go right ahead.” His tone roughened. “I’d like a few words with your leaders anyway.”

10

A nation, to be successful, should change its tactics every ten years.

—Napoleon

For a moment, when his gaze happened to dwell on the horizon, Donnan thought he was home again. Snowpeaks afloat in serene blue, purple masses and distances that shaded into a thousand greens as the valley floor rolled nearer, the light of a yellow sun and the way cloud shadows raced across the world, wind blustering in sky and trees, woke him from a nightmare in which Earth had become a cinder. He thought confusedly that he was a boy, footloose in the Appalachians; he had slept in a hayloft and this dawn the farmer’s daughter kissed him goodbye at the mail-box, which was overgrown with morning glory ... A night that stung descended on his eyes.

Ramri glanced at him, once, and then concentrated on steering the groundrunner. After his years on Earth and in space, the avian found it a little disconcerting to ride on the chairlike humps of a twenty-foot, eight-legged mam-maloid and control it by touching spots that were nerve endings. Such vehicles had been obsolescent on Katkinu even when he left. The paragrav boats that flitted over-head were more to Tantha liking. But today he and Donnan were bound from his home to the Resident, who was of the Laothaung Society. Paying a formal call on a high offi-cial from that culture, and arriving in dead machinery, would have been an insult.

After a while, Donnan mastered himself. He fumbled with his pipe. The devil take tobacco rationing

... just now ... especially since Ramri assured him that the creation of an almost identical leaf would be simple for any genetic engineer on any Monwaingi planet. When he had it lit, he paid close attention to nearby details. Katkinu was not Earth, absolutely not, and he’d better fix that squarely in his head. Even to the naked eye, the similarities of grass and foliage and flowers were superficial. Biochemical analysis showed how violently those life forms differed from himself. He had needed anti-allergen shots before he could even leave the space flitter and step on Katkinuan soil. The odors blown down the wind were spicy, mostly pleasant, but like nothing he had ever known at home. Along this road (paved, if that was the word, with a thick mossy growth, in-tensely green) walked blue parrot-faced creatures carrying odd-shaped tools and bundles. Houses, widely scattered, each surrounded by trees and a brilliant garden, were them-selves vegetable: giant growths shaped like barrel cacti, whose hollow interiors formed rooms of nacreous beauty. A grain-field was being cultivated by shambling octopids, mu-tated and bred for one purpose—like the thing on which he rode.

Yeh, he thought, I get the idea. These people aren’t hu-man. Even Ramri, who sings Mozart themes and has Justice Holmes for a hero—Ramri, about the most simpdtico guy I ever met—he’s not human. He came back to his wife and kids after eight years or whatever it was, and he might simply have stepped around the corner for a beer.

Of course, Donnan’s mind rambled on, that’s partly cultural. The Tantha civilization puts a premium on indi-vidualism. The family isn’t quite that loose in the other Monwaingi Societies, I reckon. But no human anywhere could have been that casual about a long separation, when obviously they’re an affectionate couple. Ramri did say to me once, his species doesn’t have a built-in sex drive like ours. When the opposite sex is out of sight, it really and truly is out of mind. Nevertheless—!

Or was I just missing the nuances? Did a few words and a hug accomplish as much for Ramri and his wife as Alison and I could’ve gotten across in a week?

If I’d ever given Alison the chance.

He said quickly: “You’d better put me straight on the situation here. I’m still vague on details. As I understand your system, each planet colonized by your people has a governor general from Monwaing, the mother world. Right?”

Ramri scratched his crest. “Well, no,” he answered. “Or yes. A semantic question. And not one that can ever be resolved fully. After all, since Resident Wandwai is a Lao-thaungi, he speaks another language from mine, lives under different laws and customs, enjoys art forms strange to me. So what he understands by the term Subo—‘Resi-dent,’ you say—is not identical with what a Tantha like myself understands .. Such differences are sometimes subtle, sometimes gross, but always present. He doesn’t even use the same phonetic symbols.”

“Huh? I never realized—I mean, I assumed you’d at least agree on an alphabet and number signs.”

“Oh, no. Some Societies do, to be sure. But Laothaung, for instance, which makes calligraphy a major art, finds our Tantha characters hideous. All Monwaingi writing does go from left to right, like English or Erzhuat, and not from right to left like Japanese or Vorlakka. But otherwise there is considerable variation from Society to Society. Likewise with mathematical ideograms .... Naturally, any cultured person tries to become familiar with the language and tra-ditions of the more important foreign Societies. Wandwai speaks fluent Tanthai. But I fear I am quite ignorant of Laothaungi. My interests were directed elsewhere than the arts. In that, I am typical of this planet Katkinu. We Tan-thai have taken far more interest in physical science and technology than most other Monwaingi civilizations. Some, in fact, have found such innovations extremely repugnant. But physics proved welcome to the Tanthai world-view.”

“Hey,” Donnan objected, “your people must have had some physics even before the galactics discovered Monwaing. Otherwise you could never have developed these systematic plant and animal mutations, let alone build spaceships your-selves.”

“Yes, yes. There was considerable theoretical physics on Monwaing when the Uru explorers arrived. And it found a certain amount of practical application. The emphasis lay elsewhere, though. Your recent development on Earth was almost a mirror image of Monwaing two centuries past. You knew far more biological theory than you had yet put into engineering practice, because your intellectual and economic investments were already heaviest in physical, inanimate matter. Our situation was the reverse.”

“This is getting too deep for me,” Donnan said. “I’ll never comprehend your setup. Especially as it was before you got space travel. I can see your different civilizations these days, scattering out to new planets where they aren’t bothered by unlike neighbors. But how did totally differ-ent cultures ever coexist in the same geographic area?”

“They still do, on Monwaing,” Ramri said. “For that matter, several other Societies have planted colonies of their own here on Katkinu. Tantha merely has a majority.” He pointed out a cluster of buildings, tall garishly colored cyl-inders erected in steel and plastic, half a mile off the road. The avians walking between them wore embroidered jackets over their feathers. “That is a Kodau village, for example. I suppose you could best describe them as religious com-munists. They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. I admit, such peace was slowly and painfully learned. If we never had major wars on Monwaing, we had far more local flareups than you humans. But eventually methods were developed for arbitrating disputes. That is what a na-tion was, with us—a set of public technical services, jointly maintained. And peacekeeping is only another technology, no more mysterious than agronomy or therapeutics. Once that idea caught on, a planetary government was soon or-ganized.”

He cocked an eye at Donnan, decided the man still need-ed to be soothed, and continued reciting the banal and obvi-ous:

“To be sure, as proximity and mutual influence grew, the various cultures were losing their identities. Space travel came as a savior. Now we have elbow room again. We can experiment without upsetting the balance between ourselves and our intermingled neighbor Societies. And fresh, new in-fluences have come from space to invigorate us.

“Really, Carl-my-friend, despite our many talks in the past, I do not believe you know what an impact Terres-trial ideas have had on the Monwaingi. You benefited us not simply by selling us raw materials and machine parts and so on—your engineers, in effect, working cheaper than ours for the sake of learning modern techniques—but you presented us with your entire philosophy. Tantha in par-ticular had looked upon itself as rather reactionary and anti-scientific. You made us realize that technology per se did not conflict with our world-view, only biological tech-nology. The inherent callousness of manipulating life.” His gesture at the beast they rode was eloquent, like a man’s grimace.

“That ruthlessness was spreading into the psychotechnical field too,” he went on. “In other Societies, talk was being heard of adjusting the personality to suit—like the genes of any domestic animal! Such concepts alarmed us. Yet if we Tantha failed to keep pace with innovation, we would dwindle, impotent

.... Then, suddenly, on Earth and es-pecially in America, we found a socio-economic system based on physics rather than biology. It was less subtle, per-haps, than the traditional Monwaingi approach; but poten-tially it was of far greater power ... and humaneness. We were eager to adopt what we had seen. Do you know, even I am astounded at how far change has progressed on Kat-kinu in my absence. Why, in my own house, flourescent panels. When I left, glowfly globes were still the only ar-tificial light. And that is a trivial example. I tell you, your species has inspired my Society.”

“Thanks,” Donnan grunted.

Humans couldn’t have had such a history, he thought. Maybe the vilayet system of the Ottoman Empire had approximated it, but not very closely. No human culture had ever experimented with radical social change and not paid a heavy emotional price. Think how many psychia-trists had been practicing in the U.S.A., or walk.down any American street and count on one hand the people who ac-tually looked as if they enjoyed life. To a Monwaingi, though, change came natural. They didn’t need roots the way men did. Possibly their quasi-instinctive rituals of mu-sic and dance, universal and timeless, gave the individual that sense of security and meaning fulness which a human got from social traditions. No help here for the last Earthmen, Donnan thought wearily. We’ve got to find our own planet and start up our own way of life again. If we can have kids who’ll get some benefit from pur trouble. Otherwise, to hell with it. Too much like work.

Ramri made an embarrassed, piping noise. “Er ... we seem to have wandered over half the galaxy in this discus-sion,” he said. “You started asking what Resident Wandwai and his staff do. Well, he represents the mother world, and thus the whole coalition of our planets and Societies. He administers the arbitration service. And, these days, he is a military liaison officer. You know that the Kandemirian menace requires each Society to maintain spatial defense forces. The central government on Monwaing coordinates their activities as needed, through the Resident on each colonial world.”

Also, Donnan reflected, the central government on Mon-waing operates some damned efficient cold-war type diplo-macy, espionage, and general intriguing. Yes, I do think we had to come to one of these planets and talk with one of their big wheels.

“I know each Society has spokesmen on Monwaing,” he said, “but does each one have an equal voice in policy?”

“A shrewd question,” Ramri approved. “No, certainly not. How could the primitivistic Maudwai or the ultra-pa-cifistic Bodantha find ways to keep Kandemir from gobbling up our scattered planets? The handling of foreign affairs and defense gravitates naturally toward members of the most powerful cultures, notably Laothaung and Thesa. We Tan thai are not unrepresented; still, we tend to be explorers and traders rather than admirals and ambassadors .... You needn’t worry about etiquette or protocol today. Resident Wandwai won’t expect you to know such fine points. Talk as plainly as you wish. He was so quick to grant your re-quest for an interview that I am sure he is also anxious for it.”

Donnan nodded and puffed his pipe in silence. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and by now, like his whole crew, had learned patience. If they must zigzag clear into the Libra region, a hundred light-years closer to Earth than Vorlak was, and then cool their heels for days or weeks in the Monwaingi sector of space, why quibble over the extra hour this beastie took to carry him where he was going? The time wasn’t really wasted, even. At least, Gold-spring and his helpers were drafting some gadgets with awesome potentialities.

Sooner or later, if he didn’t get killed first, Donnan would find who had murdered Earth and exact a punishment. But no hurry about that. He smoked, watched the landscape go by, and thought his own thoughts. Now and then, as on this ride today, he had some bad moments; but in general, he had begun to be able to remember Earth with more love than pain.

The trill jarred him to alertness. “We approach.”

He stared about. The groundrunner was passing through an avenue of grotesquely pollarded trees, whose shapes kept altering as the wind tossed and roared in them. On either side lay terraced gardens whose forms and hues were like some he recognized from dreams. Directly ahead rose an outsize building ... no, a grove of house-trees, vines, hedges, cascading from a matted-together roof to a fluidly stirring portico. The music that wailed in an alien scale seemed to originate within those live walls. He had seen nothing like this on Katkinu. But naturally, if the Resident belonged to a different culture from the Tanthai—

A dwarfish being took charge of the groundrunner. The being’s eyes were vacant and it could only respond to Ramri’s simplest commands. Another organic machine; but Donnan was shocked at its obviously Monwaingi descent. Planned devolution went rather further than chattel slavery had ever done on Earth. No wonder the Tanthai wanted to get away from biotechnology.

He climbed down the vehicle’s extended foreleg and fol-lowed Ramri into the portico. Three soldiers stood on guard, armed with tommy guns adapted from a Terrestrial pattern as well as with fungus grenades. Ramri and they exchanged intricate courtesies. One of them conducted the visitors along a rustling archway, where sunlight came and went in quick golden flecks, and so to an office. That room was more familiar, its walls the mother-of-pearl grain of dukaung wood, the desk and sitting-frame like any furniture in Ramri’s home. But Donnan could not recognize the calligraphic symbols burned into the ceil-ing. Resident Wandwai of Laothaung made a stately gesture which sent Ramri into a virtual dance. Donnan stood aside, watching his host. Wandwai belonged to a different race as well as another civilization. His feathers were almost black, eyes green, beak less strongly curved and body stockier than Ramri’s. Besides the usual purse at the neck, he wore golden bands twining up his shanks. Formalities past, the Resident offered Ramri a cigar and lit one for himself. He invited Donnan to sit on top of the desk while he and the space pilot relaxed in frames. “I wish I could give you refreshment, captain,” he said in fluent Uru. “But poisoning you would be poor hospitality.”

“Thanks anyway,” Donnan said.

“Since the first news of your arrival here, I have been eager to see you,” Wandwai continued.

“However, custom forced me to wait until you requested this meeting. My custom, I mean; it would have been impolite for a Tantha not to issue an invitation. In the absence of knowledge about your own preferences, I decided to abide by Lao-thaungi usage.”

“I should think military business would take precedence over company manners,” Donnan said.

“Military? Why so? Earth never gained any intrinsic military importance.”

Donnan swallowed hurt and anger. A Tantha wouldn’t have spoken so cruelly. Doubtless Wandwai didn’t realize

—yes, the Laothaungi having a biotechnical orientation, they would indeed be more hardboiled than average—“We es-caped from Kandemir’s main advance base,” the human pointed out. “Didn’t you expect we’d have information?” He paused, hoping for an impressive effect. “Like the fact that Earth was

getting a bit involved in the war.”

“I presume you refer to the pact between Vorlak and that one Terrestrial nation. Really, captain, we knew about that before the papers were even sighed. Momwaingi agents were everywhere on your planet, remember.” Wandwai stopped and considered his words. Donnan wished he could read expressions or interpret shadings of tone. “We did not like that treaty,” the Resident admitted. “The eventual Kandemirian response to such provocation could be omi-nous to us, whose scattered planets have an Earthward flank with no defense or buffer in between. We withdrew as many of our people from Earth as we could.”

“I heard about that withdrawal from some of Ramri’s friends, the other day,” Donnan said rather grimly.

“Not that we expected immediate trouble in that area,” Wandwai said. “But it seemed well to play safe ... especially since the coming upset of the uneasy power bal-ance among Terrestrial nations might bring on a general internecine war. I regret that so few Tanthai listened to the central government’s warnings and came home before Earth perished. Other cultures had fewer but wiser people there.”

You arrogant bastard! Donnan flared in himself.

Wandwai disarmed him by letting the cigar droop in his delicate fingers and saying at once, low and like a threnody: “Forgive any unintentional offense on my part, captain. I know, to a very small degree, what a sorrow you have suf-fered. Can we Monwaingi in any way offer help or consola-tion, call on us as your first and best friends. The news that Earth had been sterilized sent a wave of horror through us. No one believed the Kandemirian denial of guilt. The Monwaingi coalition has, ever since, been aiding Vorlak far more heavily than before. Independent planets such as Unya and Yann tremble on the brink of declaring war; one hope-ful sign that Kandemir can be defeated will decide them. Vassal worlds like T’sjuga have seen local revolts, which can probably be developed into full-scale insurrections. You know what a threat Kandemir is. By thus stirring the whole cluster to action, Earth has not died in vain.”

Something in the phrasing drew Donnan’s attention. Slowly he focused his mind. He felt muscles tighten; a chill went tingling over his scalp.

“You don’t, yourself, believe the nomads did it,” he breathed.

“No,” said Wandwai. “Of course, once Earth was gone, they seized the opportunity to interdict the Solar System by planting orbital missiles whose control code is known only to them. Who else could those weapons belong to?”

“Why’d they do that, if they didn’t kill Earth in the first place?”

“When the planet has cooled, a few years hence, it will still have water, oxygen, an equable temperature. The bio-sphere can be rebuilt. I feel sure Kandemir plans to colonize Earth sometime in the future. But certain very recent evi-dence has come to our attention on Monwaing which strong-ly indicates they are merely seizing an opportunity which was presented to them; that they did not commit the actual murder. Frankly, we have not released the information, since general anti-Kandemirian sentiment is desirable. But you, as a human, have the right to know.”

Donnan slid off the desk. He stood with legs apart, shoul-ders hunched, fists doubled, braced for the blow. “Have you got any notion ... who did it?”

Ramri came to stand beside him and stare in bewilder-ment at the Resident. Wandwai nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

11

Kine die, kinfolk die, And so at last yourself.

This I know that never dies: How dead men’s deeds are deemed.

—Elder Edda

“Okay,” Donnan said hoarsely. “Spit it out.”

Still the Resident watched him, eyes unblinking in that motionless black head. Until: “Are you strong enough?” Wandwai asked, almost inaudible. “I warn you, the shock will be great.”

“By God, if you don’t quit stalling—! Sorry, Please go ahead.”

Wandwai beckoned a desk drawer to open. “Very well,” he agreed. “But rather than state the case myself—I fear my own cultural habits strike you as tactless—let me pre-sent the evidence. Then you can reach your own conclu-sions. When I knew you were coming here, I took this item from the secret file.”

He extracted a filmspool. The click of his claws on the floor, the snap as he put the spool in a projector seemed unnaturally loud. “This records an inter-view on Monwaing itself, between Kaungtha of Thesa, in-terrogation expert of the naval intelligence staff attached to the central government, and a certain merchant from Xo, which you will recall is a spacefaring planet still neutral in the war.”

“One moment, honored Resident,” Ramri interrupted. “May I ask why—if the secret is important—you have a copy?”

“Knowing several Earth ships were absent at the time of the catastrophe, Monwaing anticipated that one or more would seek a planet of ours,” Wandwai answered. “We are the only race whose friendship they could feel certain about. Not knowing which planet, however, or exactly how the crews would react to their situation, the government provided this evidence for every office. Otherwise, refusing to believe a bald statement, the Terrestrials might have de-parted for an altogether different civilization-cluster.” He sighed. “Perhaps you will do so anyway, captain. The choice is yours. But at least you have been given what data we had.”

Ramri inhaled on his cigar, raggedly. A whiff sent Don-nan spluttering to one side but he never took his eyes off the projector. With a whirr, a cube of light sprang into existence. After a moment, quarter size, a three-dimensional scene appeared within.

Through an open ogive window he saw a night sky aglitter with stars, two crescent moons, a rainbow arch that was the rings around Monwaing. Crystal globes in which a hun-dred luminous insects darted like meteors hung from the ceiling. Behind a desk sat an avian whose feathers were bluish green and who wore a golden trident on his breast. He ruffled papers in his hands, impatiently, though he never consulted them.

The being who stood before the desk was a Xoan. Don-nan recognized that from pictures only; few had ever visited Earth, which lay beyond their normal sphere of enterprise. The form was centauroid, which is to say there was a quad-rupedal body as big as a Shetland pony and an upright torso with arms. But iridescent skin, erectile comb on the head, face dominated by a small proboscis, removed any further resemblance to anything Earthly. The Xoan seemed nervous, shuffling his feet and twitching his trunk. A disembodied voice sang some phrases in a Monwaingi language. Ramri whispered: “That’s Thesai.

‘Interview be-tween Interrogator Kaungtha and Hordelin-Barjat, chairman of the navigation committee of the spaceship Zeyan-12 from the planet generally known as Xo: catalogue number—“Never mind. The date is—let me translate—about six months ago.”

Kaungtha’s replica emitted a trill or two. Then, in Uru, his voice said from the light cube: “Be at ease, Naviga-tor. We wish you no harm. This interview is only to put on official record certain statements previously made by you.”

“Under duress!” The Xoan had a ridiculous squeaky voice. “I protest the illegal detention of my ship and per-sonnel on this planet, the grilling I have undergone, the mental distress—”

“At ease, Navigator, I beg you. Your detention was perfectly in accord with ordinary interstellar practice as well as Monwaingi law. If contamination is suspected, what can we do but impose quarantine?”

“You know perfectly well that—” Hordelin-Barjat sub-sided. “I understand. If I cooperate, you will give us a clean bill of health and allow us to depart. So ... I am cooperat-ing.” Anxiously: “But this will remain secret? You do promise that. If my superiors ever learn—”

Kaungtha rustled his papers. “Yes, yes, you have our assurance. Believe me, Monwaing is as interested in discre-tion as Xo. You fear repercussions because of your planet’s part in the affair. We much prefer to spare Xo any un-fortunate consequences to reputation and livelihood, and let the blame continue to rest where it does. However, for our own guidance, we do want accurate information.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “But how did you ever come to suspect that we—”

Kaungtha (mildly): “The source of the original hints we got deserves the same protection as you. Not so? Let us commence, then. Your vessel belongs to the Xoan merchant fleet, correct?”

Hordelin-Barjat: “Yes. Our specialty, as a crew, is to es-tablish first contact with promising new markets and to con-duct preliminary negotiations. We—that is—the planets where Xo has been trading for the last several genera-tions ... they are becoming glutted, or else so civilized they no longer import the ... uh ... specialized items manufac-tured on our world. We need fresh markets. Earth—”

Kaungtha: “Just so. After studying all the information available to you about Earth, you went there, secretly, in the Zeyan 12. That was approximately two years ago, cor-rect?” (A sudden bark) “Why secretly?”

Hordelin Barjat (shaken): “Well ... that is ... no wish to offend others—Monwaing already had interests on Earth—”

Kaungtha: “Nonsense! No treaty forbade competition in the Terrestrial market. The Monwaingi confederation as a whole undertakes no obligation to protect the commercial interests of those member Societies that engage in trade. No, the secrecy was required by your tentative purpose. Explain in your own words what you had in mind.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “I—that is—I mean—All those ridicu-lous nations and tribes there—hold overs from the Stone

Age, and still unable to agree ... in the face of galactic cul-ture ... agree on unity and global peace—”

Kaungtha: “You hoped, then, to sell one or two of those countries a highly advanced weapon that would overthrow the delicate balance of power existing on Earth. If this be-came known in advance to the rival nations, either preven-tive war would break out at once or an agreement would be reached to ban such devices. In either case, Xo would make no sale. Hence the secrecy.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “I wouldn’t put it just that way, officer. We had no intention—we never foresaw—I tell you, they were mad. The whole race was mad. Best they did die, be-fore their lunacy threatened everyone else.”

Kaungtha (sighing): i Spare me the rationalizations.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “But, but, but you must understand—We are not murderers! Insofar as a psychology so alien could be predicted, we felt that ... well, believe me, we had even read some of their own theoretical works, analyses of their own situation. A weapon like this had been discussed by Terrestrial thinkers in various books and journals. They felt—that is, the ultimate deterrent to aggressions, a guar-anteed peace—Well, if the Earthlings themselves believed such a device would have this effect, how should we know otherwise?”

Kaungtha: “Some of them did. Most did not. In two dec-ades of dealing with Terrestrials, we Monwaingi have gotten some insight into their thought processes. They are—were—they had more individual variability than Xoans; more than any two members of one given Monwaingi Society.” (Leaning forward, harsh tone, machine-gun rattle of pa-pers). “You gathered those data which pleased you and ig-nored the rest.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “I—we—”

Kaungtha: “Proceed. Which country did you sell this weapon to?”

Hordelin-Barjat: “Well, actually ... two. Not two coun-tries exactly. Two alliances. Power blocs. Whatever they were called. We avoided the major powers. Among other reasons, they—uh—”

Kaungtha: “They had too many extraterrestrial contacts. Word of your project might easily have leaked out to civi-lized planets, which might well have forbidden it. Also, be-ing strong to begin with, the large nations would feel less menaced from every side; less persecuted; less petulant. In a word, less ready to buy your wares. Proceed.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “I strongly object to your, er, cynical interpretation of our motives.”

Kaungtha: “Proceed, I told you.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “Uh—uh—well, our clients had to be countries that did possess some military force—space mis-siles and so on—and thereby might well expect to be attacked with missiles in the early stages of a war. We approached the Arabian-North African alliance for one. It felt itself being encircled as relations between Israel and the more southerly African states grew increasingly close. And then there was the Balkan alliance, under Yugoslavian lead-ership—suspicious of the Western countries, still more sus-picious of Russia, from whose influence they had barely broken free—and sure to be a battleground if outright war ever did break out between East and West.”

Kaungtha: “Let us positively identify the areas in ques-tion. You do not pronounce them very reliably, Navigator.” (Projecting a political globe of Earth) “Here, here, here, here. Have I indicated the correct regions?”

Hordelin-Barjat: “Yes.” (Hastily) “You realize these were second-and third-rate powers. They needed defense, not means of agrandizement. What we sold them—”

Kaungtha: “Describe that briefly, please.”

Hordelin-Barjat: fA set of disruption bombs. Buried deep in the planetary crust ... and beneath the ocean beds ... strategic locations—You are familiar with the technol-ogy. They—the bombs belonging to a given alliance—they would go off automatically. If more than three nuclear ex-plosions above a certain magnitude occurred within the bor-ders of any single member country ... all those bombs would explode. At once.”

Kaungtha (softly): “And would wipe the planet clean. In seconds.”

Hordelin-Barjat: “Yes, humane, quick, yes. Of course, that was not the intention. Not anyone’s intention. These small powers—they planned to go, oh, very discreetly, in deepest secrecy—they would approach the other govern-ments and say, ‘In the event of general war, we are doomed anyway. But now you will die with us. Therefore you must refrain from making war, ever again.’ I assure you, the idea was to promulgate peace.”

Kaungtha: “Did you witness the actual installation?”

Hordelin-Barjat: “No. My ship only conducted, uh, pre-liminary negotiations. Others came later, technicians and, so on. I was informed ... once ... verbally ... that the task had been completed and payment made. But I never saw—” (Shriller than before) “I give you assurance I was as shocked as anyone to hear—not long afterward—my superi-ors, too—Who could have known that the whole Terres-trial species was insane?”

Kaungtha: “Have you any idea what might have hap-pened, exactly?”

Hordelin-Barjat: “No. Perhaps ... oh, I can’t say

No doubt a war did break out—regardless. If they were al-ready on edge, those governments, then the increased ten-sion ... feeling this was a bluff that should be called—Or even an accident. I don’t know, I tell you! Let me alone!”

Kaungtha: “That appears sufficient, Navigator. End in-terview.”

The cube of light blanked out.

Donnan heard himself speaking in a voice not his own, “I don’t believe it! I won’t! Take back your lies, you—”

Ramri pushed him against the wall and held him till he stopped struggling. Wandwai gazed at the symbols burned into the ceiling as if to find some obscure comfort.

“Not murder, then,” the Resident said at last. “Suicide.”

“They wouldn’t!”

“You may reject this evidence,” said the gentle, surgical voice. “Admittedly it is not conclusive. The Xoan might have lied. Or, even if he told the truth, the Kandemirians might still have launched an attack. Especially if they, some-how, learned about those bombs. For then the destruction of Earth would be absurdly simple. A few medium-power nuclear missiles, landing within a fair-sized geographical area, would touch off the supreme explosion. But Earth herself would nevertheless have provided the means.”

Donnan covered his face and sagged.

When he looked at them again, Wandwai had put the projector and spool away. “For the sake of surviving hu-mans, captain, as well as Monwaingi policy,” the Resident murmured, “I trust you will hold this confidential. Now come, shall we discuss your further plans? Despite the eco-logical problems, I am sure a home can be made for you within our hegemony—”

“No,” said Donnan.

“What?” This time Wandwai did blink.

“No. We’re heading back to Vorlak. Our ship, the rest of our people—”

“Oh, they can come here. Monwaing will arrange every-thing with the Dragar.”

“I said no. We got a war to finish.”

“Even after Kandemir is proven probably innocent?”

“I don’t accept your proof. Y-y-you’ll have to trot out something more solid than a reel of film. I’m going to keep on looking ... on my own account .... Anyway, Kandemir did kill some of my crew. And ought to be stopped on gen-eral principles. And there’s still the idea we had of making a galaxy-wide splash. I’m going. Thanks for your ... your hospitality, guv’nor. So long.”

Donnan lurched from the room.

Ramri stared after him a minute, then started in pursuit. Wandwai, who had remained still except for slow puffs on his cigar, called: “Do you think it best we stop him?”

“No, honored Resident,” Ramri answered. “It is neces-sary for him to depart. I am leaving too.”

“Indeed? After so long an absence from home?”

“He may need me,” Ramri said, and: left.

12

Who going through the vale of misery use it for a well: and the pools are filled with water. They will go from strength to strength.

—The Book of Common Prayer

Black and mountainous, the ancestral castle of Hlott Luurs covered the atoll on which it was built and burrowed deep into the rock. Sheer walls of fused stone ended in watchtowers overlooking the fishers’

huts on two neighbor-ing islets, and in missile turrets commanding the sky above. Today, as often at every latitude on Vorlak, that sky hung low. Smoky clouds tinged with bronze by the hidden sun flew on a wind that whipped the sea to a grey-green rest-lessness. When he stood up, Carl Donnan got a faceful of spindrift. The air was warm, but the wind whistled and the surf boomed with a singularly cold noise. He braced his feet against roll and lurch as Ger Nenna changed course. “We must go in by the west gate,” the scholar called. “None but Dragar and the Overmaster may use the north approach.” His fur gleamed with salt wa-ter; he had removed his robes to keep them dry when the boat started off from Port Caalhova. Donnan stuck to his shabby coverall and a slicker.

Pretty overbearing type, that Hlott, the man thought. Oh, sure, he’s entitled to be ceremonious—president of the Council and all that. And in times like these you can’t blame him for not allowing any fliers but his into this area. And his refusal to talk with me after I got back is within his rights. But when you add everything together, he’s treating us humans like doormats and it has got to stop. He put arms akimbo. The old Mauser would have been comforting on his hip today. But naturally, he wasn’t al-lowed to bear weapons here. He couldn’t even have gotten this interview had it not been for Ger Nenna’s repeated pe-titions.

They passed a few fisher craft, off which commoners dove like seals to herd schools detected by sonar beams into giant scoops.

A patrol boat set down on the water and the pilot bawled a challenge. Ger identified himself and was waved on. A clifflike wall loomed dead ahead. The portcullis was raised as Ger steered toward the entrance. Within, several boats lay docked in a basin. Ger made fast.

“Have you reconsidered your plan, captain, as I re-quested?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Donnan nodded. “But I’ll stick with it.”

“Have you fully understood how dangerous it is? A Draga, any Draga, is supreme within his own demesne. Hlott could kill you here and there would be no lawful re-* dress, no matter how small and poor an aristocrat he was.”

“But he is not small and poor,” Donnan pointed out. “He’s the boss of this planet. And there lies my chance.” He shrugged. The bitterness that Ger had noticed and wondered about, ever since the Hrunna survivors returned from Katkinu, whetted his tone. “We’re the ones who’re poor, we humans. Nothing to lose. And that fact can also be turned into an asset.”

Ger toweled himself more or less dry and slipped the plain black robe over his head. “In the Seven Classics of Voyen,” he said anxiously, “one may read, ‘Many despera-tions do not equal one hope.’

Captain, you know I favor your cause. Not from charity, but on the dim chance that you may indeed bring this wretched war to an end. Only when the interstellar situation has become stable will there be any possibility of restoring—no, not the Eternal Peace; that is gone forever—but the true Vorlakka civilization. You must never believe these swaggering Dragar represent our inherent nature as a species.”

“Lord, no.” Donnan shucked his slicker and helped Ger tie an embroidered honorific sash. “In fact, pal, if the break-down of your old universal state had not thrown up a war-lord class, you’d be a pretty sorry lot. Ready? Let’s go, then. Yonder guard is beginning to give us a fishy look.”

They debarked and were frisked. Ger was searched nomi-nally and with a ritual apology, Donnan like a criminal arrested for malicious hoodblinkery and aggravated conspi-culation. He submitted without paying much heed. He was too busy rehearsing what—No, by God! A set speech was exactly the wrong approach. Marshal his facts, sure; but otherwise play it by ear. Keeping cool was the main thing. He was about to walk a tightrope over a pit full of razor blades.

A servant ushered them down wet, ringing corridors, up ramps worn smooth by warlike generations, and so at last to a relatively small room. It had a transparent domed roof, the walls were brightly colored, and furniture stood about. A solarium, Donnan guessed. The guide bowed low and went out. The door shut behind him, thick and heavy.

Hlott Luurs was sprawled nude on a couch. The light from above rippled along his mahogany fur. He raised him-self to one elbow and regarded them with chill eyes. No one else was present, but a web-footed, long-fanged animal, ti-ger size, lay at his feet. A borren, Donnan recognized. It rumbled at him until Hlott clicked his tongue for silence. Ger Nenna advanced and bent his head. “My captain,” he greeted, “dare this worm express thanks for your gra-ciousness in heeding his prayer, or should he accept it in silence as the winter earth accepts vernal sunshine?”

“If the honorable steersman truly wants to show grati-tude,” said Hlott dryly, “he can spare me any future time-wastings as silly as this.”

“I beg leave to assure the President that the Terrestrial captain brings news of great import.”

“Yes, he does.” Hlott’s gaze smoldered on Donnan. Briefly, teeth flashed white in his blunt muzzle.

“But I’ve already heard that news, you see. A good destroyer thrown away at Mayast, together with Draga Olak Faarer’s life, my kinsman. Kandemir handed the secret of the new paragrav detector, as the price for sparing the flotsam lives of a few Earthlings. That is the news. And now this creature not only has the insolence to return to Vorlak—he demands we put him in charge of still more operations! Be grateful to Ger Nenna, you. I’d have blasted every last wretch of your gang before now, had he not persuaded me otherwise.”

Donnan sketched an obseisance. “My captain,” he said, “you agreed yourself to let us try that raid, and you were told that success wasn’t guaranteed. Trying to shift the whole blame on us would be a sneaking trick.”

“What?” Hlott’s hackles rose. He sat straight. The borren sensed his mood and got up too, tail lashing, throat like thunder.

Donnan didn’t stop to be afraid. He dared not. He kept his words loud and metallic: “Thanks for finally agreeing to hear our side of the fiasco. If you really plan to listen to me. And you’d better. This affair hasn’t weakened us as you think. We’re stronger than before. By ‘we’ I mean the Franklin’s men; but we’ll include Vorlak if you want.”

The borren started toward him. Hlott called it back with a curt order. I gauged him right, then, Donnan thought, beneath his own pulsebeat and sweat. He’s not so stuck on himself that he won’t stop to look at facts shoved under his nose. He’s not stupid at all, really; just raised in a stu-pid milieu. He won’t kill me simply because he gets peeved. No. Hell have excellent logical reasons. The Draga shivered with self-restraint. “Speak, then,” he said in a strangled voice. “Explain how Kandemir’s possess-ing the new detector strengthens anyone except Tarkamat.”

“Those detectors are prototypes, my captain,” said Don-nan, moderating his tone. “At best, a few enemy ships may now have handmade copies. It’ll take months to get them into real production. So unless we let the stalemate drag on, we haven’t lost much on that account.

“The Kandemirians also have a glimpse of the theory behind the detectors. But a very partial glimpse. And they’ll need time to digest their knowledge, time to see the im-plications and develop the possibilities. We—Arnold Gold-spring and his helpers—have been thinking about this subject, off and on, for close to three years while we cruised around exploring. We’ve given it really concentrated atten-tion since we returned to this cluster.

“When Goldspring and I arrived back at Vorlak from Katkinu, we found that his associates who’d stayed behind in the Franklin had not been idle. Thanks to Ger Nenna, who arranged access to computers and other high-powered research tools, they’d gone a long ways toward developing half a dozen new applications. It’s a case of genuine scien-tific breakthrough. Inventions based on Goldspring’s princi-ple are going to come thick and fast for a while. And we’ve got the jump on everybody else.”

“I have been told about theoretical designs and labora-tory tests,” Hlott said disgustedly. “How long will it take to produce something that really works?”

“Not long, my captain,” Donnan said. “That is, if a massive scientific-technological effort can be mounted. If the best Vorlakka and allied minds can work together. And that’s the real technique we Earthlings have got that you don’t. A feudal society like yours, or a nomadic culture like Kandemir, or a coalition of fragments like Monwaing, isn’t set up to innovate on purpose. We can tell you how to organize a development project. In less than a year, we can load you for ... for borren ... and break the dead-lock.”

“So you say,” Hlott growled. “Your record to date hardly justifies belief.”

“Most honored captain,” Ger begged, “I have inspected the work of these people. My feeble powers were insuffi-cient to grasp their concepts. I could only gape in awe at what was demonstrated. But scholars in the physical sci-ences, who have studied more deeply, assure me—”

“I don’t give a curse in nonexistence what they assure you, honorable steersman,” Hlott answered.

“If it pleases them to tinker with a new idea, let them. Something worth-while may or may not come from it. But I am responsible for the survival of Vorlak as an independent world—and I am not going to gamble half our resources on as crazy an effort as this, masterminded by a mouthful of .planetless lunatics. Go!”

Ger wrung his hands. “Noble master—”

Hlott rose to his feet. “Go,” he shouted. “Before I chop you both in pieces!”

The borren snarled and crouched.

“But the noble President of Council does not realize—”

Donnan waved Ger back. “Never mind, pal,” he said. “I know you hate to come right out and say this. But it’s got to be done.”

He planted himself solidly before the Draga and stated: “You must know I’ve got the backing of several Councillors. They liked what we showed them.”

“Yes.” Hlott relaxed enough to snort a laugh. “I have heard. Praalan, Seva, Urlant. The weakest and most im-pressionable members of the entire Draga class. What does that mean?”

“Exactly this, my captain.” Donnan’s lips bent into a sort of smile. He ticked the points off on his fingers. “One: they agree with me that if the stalemate drags on much longer, Kandemir is going to win for sure. The no-mad empire has more resources in the long run. Two: once equipped with the new detectors, and the prospect of still fancier gadgets—remember, Kandemir’s vassals include sedentary industrial cultures that do know how to organize weapons development—Tarkamat is going to come out look-ing for a showdown. So we haven’t got very much time in any case. Three: if we prepare for it, we, the anti-Kande-mirian alliance, can force the showdown ourselves, with a pretty fair chance of winning. Four: this is so important that Praalan and Company can’t continue to support a President of the Council too bullheaded to realize the sim-ple facts.”

Muscles bunched and knotted along the warlord’s body. Almost, the borren went for Donnan’s throat. Hlott seized its neck and expended enough temper restraining that huge mass to retort, slit-eyed but self-possessed:

“Ah, you have gone behind my back, then, and awakened intrigues against me, eh? That shall certainly be repaid you.”

“I couldn’t help going behind your back,” Donnan snapped. “You kept it turned .on me, in spite of my loudest hollering.”

“Praalan, Seva, and Urlant! What can they accomplish? Let them try to force an election. Just let them dare.”

“Oh, they won’t by themselves, my lord. I talked ’em out of that. Persuaded them they don’t, none of them, have the following—or the brains and toughness—to boss these rough-neck admirals. They wouldn’t last a week. However ... they do have some resources. In cahoots, their power is not negligible. So if they were to join forces with Yenta Saeter, who is very nearly as strong as you—”

“What!”

“Got the idea? My three chums will support Yenta be-cause I’ve talked them into the idea that it’s more important what weapons Vorlak can get than what master Vorlak has. Yenta doesn’t think too much of me and my schemes, but he’s agreed to organize my project once he gets the Pres-idency, in return for the help of my three Dragar.”

Hlott cursed and struck. Donnan sidestepped the blow. The borren glided forward. Donnan closed with Hlott. He didn’t try to hurt the noble, but he went into a clinch. The unhuman body struggled to break loose. Cable-strong arms threw Donnan from side to side. Teeth sought his shoulder.

“Easy, friend. Easy!” Donnan gasped. As the borren lunged, the man forced Hlott around as a shield. The great jaws nearly closed on the Draga’s leg. The borren roared and drew back.

“Let’s not fight, my captain,” the Terrestrial said. His teeth rattled with being shaken. He bit his tongue and choked on an oath. “If ... wait, call off your pet, will you?—

if I meant you any harm, would I have come here ...

and told you?”

Momentarily balked, the borren turned on Ger, who scuttled around a couch. “Farlak!” Hlott yelled. The beast flattened its ears and snarled. Hlott shouted again. It lay down stiff and reluctant. Donnan let go, staggered to a couch, sat down and panted. “My ... my captain ... is strong as a devil,” he wheezed, rather more noisily than he had to. “I couldn’t ... have held out ... another minute.”

A flicker of smugness softened the wrath on the lutrine face. Hlott said frigidly, “Your presumption deserves a very slow death.”

“Pardon me, my captain,” Donnan said. “You know I’m not up on your customs. Back home, in my country, one person was pretty much equal to another. I can’t remember what’s good manners in a society as different as this.”

He rose again. “I didn’t come to threaten you or any such thing,” he continued, feeling how big a liar he was. “Let’s say I just wanted to warn you ... let you know what the sentiments of your colleagues are. I’d hate to see our side lose a leader as brilliant as yourself. If you’d only consider this one question of policy, you could swing back Seva, Urlant, and Praalan to your side. And—uh—” he laid a finger alongside his nose and winked—“if this move were made precisely right, the honorable Yenta could be enticed out on a nice breezy limb ... and suddenly dis-cover he was alone there, and you stood behind him with a bucksaw.”

Hlott poised in silence. Donnan could almost watch the fury drain from him and the calculation rise. Muscle by muscle, the human allowed himself to relax. He’d probably won his case. Practical politics was another art which had been more highly developed on Earth than it was here. 13

THE BATTLE OF BRANDOBAR

Annotated English version

To the literary historian, this ballad is notable as the first important work of art (as opposed to factual records, scientific treatises, or translations from planetary languages) composed in Uru. However, the student of military tech-nics can best explain various passages which, couched in epical terms, convey the general sense but not the details.

The naval engagement in question was fought near the Brandobar Cluster, an otherwise undistinguished group of stars between Vorlak and Mayast. On the one side was the alliance of Vorlak, Monwaing, and several lesser races. Se-cret demonstrations of new weapons, combined with indig-nation at the ruin of Earth, had induced a number of hith-erto neutral planets to declare war on Kandemir. Opposed to them was the Grand Fleet of the nomads, which included not only their clan units but various auxiliaries recruited from non-Kandemirian subjects of their empire. Their force was numerically much stronger than the attackers.

Three kings rode out on the way of war

(The stars burn bitterly clear):

Three in league against Tarkamat,

Master of Kandemir.

And the proudest king, the Vorlak lord,

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

Had been made the servant in all but name

Of a planetless wanderer chief.

And the secondmost king was a wingless bird

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

Who leagued at last with the Vorlak lord

When the exiles were allied.

And the foremost king in all but name

(New centuries scream in birth)

Was the captain of one lonely ship

That had fled from murdered Earth.

For the world called Earth was horribly slain

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

By one unknown; but the corpse’s guards

Were built on Kandemir.

The Earthlings fled—to seek revenge

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

For ashen homes and sundered hopes

First seen in unbelief.

And haughty Vorlak spoke to them

(A bugle: the gods defied!):

“Kandemir prowls beyond our gates.

Can ye, then, stay the tide?”

And the Monwaing wisemen spoke to them

(New centuries scream in birth):

“Can ye arm us well, we will league with you,

Exiles from shattered Earth.”

And the wanderer captain told the kings

(The stars burn bitterly clear):

“I have harnessed and broken to my will

Space and Force and Fear.”

Tarkamat, Master of Kandemir,

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

Laughed aloud: “I will hurl them down

Like a gale-blown autumn leaf.”

And he gathered his ships to meet the three

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

As an archer rattles his arrow sheaf

And shakes his bow in pride.

Forth from their lairs, by torchlight suns,

(New centuries scream in birth)

The nomad ships came eager to eat

The wanderers from Earth.

And hard by a cluster of youthful suns

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

Known by the name of Brandobar,

They saw the enemy near.

And the three great kings beheld their foe

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

With half again the ships they had,

Like arrows in a sheaf.

“Now hurl your vessels, my nomad lords,

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

One single shattering time, and then

Their worlds we shall bestride.”

“Sleep ye or wake ye, wanderer chief,

(New centuries scream in birth)

That ye stir no hand while they seek our throats,

Yon murderers of Earth?”

Militechnicians can see from the phrasing alone, without consulting records, that the allied fleet must have proceeded at a high uniform velocity—free fall—in close formation. This offered the most tempting of targets to the Kandemirians, whose ships had carefully avoided building up much intrinsic speed and thus were more maneuverable. Tarkamat moved to englobe the allies and fire on them from all sides.

“Have done, have done, my comrades twain.

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

Mine eyes have tallied each splinter and nail

In yonder burning spear.

“Let them come who slew my folk.

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

We wait for them as waits in a sea

The steel-sharp, hidden reef.”

The reference here is, of course, to the highly developed interferometric paragravity detectors with which the whole allied fleet was equipped, and which presented to the main computer in their flagship a continuous picture of the enemy dispositions. The nomads had some too, but fewer and of a less efficient model.

Now Kandemir did spurt so close

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

They saw his guns and missiles plain

Go raking for their side.

The exile captain smiled a smile

(New centuries scream in birth)

And woke the first of the wizardries

Born from the death of Earth.

Then Space arose like a wind-blown wave

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

That thunders and smokes and tosses ships

Helpless to sail or steer.

And the angry bees from the nomad hive

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

Were whirled away past Brandobar

Like a gale-blown autumn leaf.

This was the first combat use of the space distorter. The artificial production of interference phenomena enabled the allied craft to create powerful repulsion fields about them-selves, or change the curvature of the world lines of outside matter—two equivalent verbalizations of Goldspring’s fa-mous fourth equation. In effect, the oncoming enemy mis-siles were suddenly pushed to an immense distance, as if equipped with faster-than-light engines of their own.

Tarkamat recoiled. That is, he allowed the two fleets to interpenetrate and pass each other. The allies decelerated and re-approached him. He acted similarly. For, in the hours that this required, his scientists had pondered what they observed. Already possessing some knowledge of the physical principles which underlay this new defense, they assured Tarkamat that it must obey the conservation-of-energy law. A ship’s power plant could accelerate a missile away, but not another ship of comparable size. Nor could electromagnetic phenomena be much affected.

Tarkamat accordingly decided to match velocities and slug it out at short range with his clumsy but immensely destructive blaster cannon. He would suffer heavy losses, but the greater numbers at his command made victory seem inevitable.

Tarkamat, Master of Kandemir,

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

Rallied his heart. “Close in with them!

Smite them with fire!” he cried.

The nomad vessels hurtled near

(New centuries scream in birth)

And the second wizardry awoke,

Born from the death of Earth.

Then Force flew clear of its iron sheath.

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

Remorseless lightnings cracked and crashed

In the ships of Kandemir.

And some exploded like bursting suns

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

And some were broken in twain, and some

Fled shrieking unbelief.

Over small distances, such allied vessels as there had been time to equip with it could use the awkward, still largely experimental, but altogether deadly space-interfer-ence fusion inductor. The principle here was the production of a non-space band so narrow that particles within the nucleus itself were brought into contiguity. Atoms with posi-tive packing fractions were thus caused to explode. Only a very low proportion of any ship’s mass was disintegrated, but that usually served to destroy the vessel. More than half the Kandemirian fleet perished in a few nova-like minutes. Tarkamat, unquestionably one of the greatest naval gen-iuses in galactic history, managed to withdraw the rest and re-form beyond range of the allied weapon. He saw that—as yet—it was too restricted in distance to be effective against a fortified planet, and ordered a retreat to Mayast II. Tarkamat, Master of Kandemir,

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

Told his folk, “We have lost this day,

But the next we may abide.

“Hearten yourselves, good nomad lords.

(New centuries scream in birth)

Retreat with me to our own stronghold.

Show now what ye are worth!”

The third of those wizardries awoke

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

Born from the death of Earth. It spoke,

And the name of it was Fear.

For sudden as death by thunderbolt,

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

Ringing within the nomad ships

Came the voice of the exile chief.

Tarkamat, Master of Kandemir,

(New centuries scream in birth)

Heard with the least of his men the words

Spoken from cindered Earth.

On the relatively coarse molecular level, the space-interfer-ence inductor was both reliable and long-range. Carl Donnan simply caused the enemy hulls to vibrate slightly, modulated this with his voice through a microphone, and filled each Kandemirian ship with his message.

“We have broken ye here by Brandobar.

(The stars burn bitterly clear)

If ye will not yield, we shall follow you

Even to Kandemir.

“But our wish is not for ashen homes,

(The stormwinds clamor their grief)

But to make you freemen once again

And not a nomad fief.

“If ye fight, we will hurl the sky on your heads.

(A bugle: the gods defied!)

If ye yield, we will bring to your homes and hearts

Freedom to be your bride.

“Have done, have done; make an end of war

(New centuries sing in birth)

And an end of woe and of tyrant rule—

In the name of living Earth!”

Tarkamat reached a cosmic interference fringe and went into faster-than-light retreat. The allies, though now numeri-cally superior, did not pursue. They doubted their ability to capture Mayast II. Instead, they proceeded against lesser Kandemirian outposts, taking these one by one without great difficulty. Mayast could thus be isolated and nullified.

The effect of Donnan’s words was considerable. Not only did this shockingly unexpected voice from nowhere strike at the cracked Kandemirian morale; it offered their vassals a way out. If these would help throw off the nomad yoke, they would not be taken over by the winning side, but given independence, even assistance. There was no immedi-ate overt response; but the opening wedge had been driven. Soon allied agents were being smuggled onto those planets, to disseminate propaganda and organize underground move-ments along lines familiar to Earth’s history.

Thus far the militechnic commentator. But the literary scholar sees more in the ballad. Superficially it appears to be a crude, spontaneous production. Close study reveals it is nothing of the sort. The simple fact that there had been no previous Uru poetry worth noticing would indicate as much. But the structure is also suggestive. The archaic imagery and exaggerated, often banal descriptions appeal, not to the sophisticated mind, but to emotions so primitive they are common to every spacefaring race. The song could be enjoyed by any rough-and-ready spacehand, human, Vorlakka, Monwaingi, Xoan, Yannth, or whatever—includ-ing members of any other civilization-cluster where Uru was known. And, while inter-cluster traffic was not large nor steady, it did take place. A few ships a year did venture that far. Moreover, while the form of this ballad derives from an-cient European models, it is far more intricate than the present English translation can suggest. The words and con-cepts are simple; the meter, rhyme, assonance, and allitera-tion are not. They are, indeed, a jigsaw puzzle, no part of which can be distorted without affecting the whole.

Thus the song would pass rapidly from mouth to mouth, and be very little changed in the process. A spacehand who had never heard of Kandemir or Earth would still get their names correct when he sang what to him was just a lively drinking song. Only those precise vocables would sound right. So, while the author is unknown, The Battle of Brando-bar was obviously not composed by some folkish minstrel. It was commissioned, and the poet worked along lines care-fully laid down for him. This was, in fact, the Benjamin Franklin’s message to humans throughout the galaxy. 14

Then I saw there was a way to Hell, even from the gates of Heaven.

—Bunyan

No, Sigrid Holmen told herself. Stop shivering, you fool. What is there to be afraid of?

Is it that ... after five years ... this is the first time I have been alone with a man? Oh, God, how cold those years were!

He wouldn’t do anything. Not him, with the weather-beaten face that crinkled when he smiled, and his hair just the least bit grizzled, and that funny slow voice. Or even if he did—The thought of being grasped against a warm and muscular body made her heart miss a beat. They weren’t going to wait much longer, the crews of Europe and Franklin. The half religious reverence of the first few days was already waning, companionships had begun to take shape, marriages would not delay. To be sure, even after the casualties the Americans had suffered in the Kandemir-ian war, they outnumbered the women. The sex ratio would get still more lopsided if—no, when!—more ships came in from wherever they were now scattered. A girl could pick and choose.

Nevertheless, murmured Sigrid’s awareness, I had better choose mine before another sets her cap for him. And he wanted to see me today, all by myself ....

The warmth faded in her. She couldn’t be mistaken about the way Carl Donnan’s eyes had followed each motion she made. But something else had been present as well, or why should his tone have gone so bleak? She had sat there in the ship with the ranking officers of both expeditions, ex-changing data, and described how she boarded the Kande-mirian missile, and had seen his face turn stiff. Afterward he drew her aside; low-voiced, almost furtive, he asked her to visit him confidentially next day. But why should I be afraid? she demanded of herself again, angrily. We are together, the two halves of the hu-man race. We know now that man will live; there will be children and hearthfires on another Earth—in the end, on a thousand or a million other Earths.

Kandemir is beaten. They have not yet admitted it, but their conquests have been stripped from them, their prov-inces are in revolt, they themselves requested the cease-fire which now prevails. Tarkamat spars at the conference table as bravely and skillfully as ever he did in battle, but the whole cluster knows his hope is forlorn. He will salvage what he can for his people, but Kandemir as an imperial power is finished.

Whereas we, the last few Homines sapientes, sit in the councils of the victors. Vorlak and Monwaing command ships by the thousands and troops by the millions, but they listen to Carl Donnan with deepest respect. Nor is his in-fluence only moral. The newly freed planets, knowing that singly they can have little to say about galactic affairs, have been deftly guided into a coalition—loose indeed, but as close-knit as any such league can be among entire worlds. Collectively, they are already a great power, whose star is in the ascendant. And ... their deliberative assembly is pre-sided over by a human. Why am I afraid?

She thrust the question away (but could not make her-self unaware of dry mouth and fluttering pulse) as she guided her aircar onto the landing strip. Long, shingle-roofed log buildings formed a square nearby. Trees, their leaves restless in a strong wind, surrounded three sides. The fourth looked down the ridge where Donnan’s headquarters stood, across the greennesses of a valley, a river that gleamed like metal and the blue upward surge of hills on the other horizon. This was not Earth, this world called Varg, and the area Donnan occupied—like other sections lent the humans by grateful furry natives off whom the no-mad overlordship had been lifted—the area was too small to make a home. But until men agreed on what planet to colonize, Varg was near enough like aErth to ease an old pain. When Sigrid stepped out, the wind flung odors of springtime at her.

Donnan hurried from the portico. Sigrid started running to meet him, checked herself, and waited with head thrown back. He had remarked blonde hair was his favorite, and in this spilling sunlight—he extended a hand, shyly. She caught it between her own, felt her cheeks turn hot but didn’t let go at once,

“Thanks for coming, Miss Holmen,” he mumbled.

“Vas nothing. A pleasure.” Since his French was even rustier than her English, they used the latter. Neither one considered a nonhuman language. She liked his drawl.

“I hope ... the houses we turned over to you ladies ... they’re comfortable?”

“Oh, ja, )aP She laughed. “Every time ve see a man, he asks us the same.”

“Uh ... no trouble? I mean, you know, some of the boys are kind of impetuous. They don’t mean any harm, but—”

“Ve have impetuous vuns too.” They released each other. She turned in confusion from his gray gaze and looked across the valley. “How beautiful a view,” she said. “Re-minds me about Dalarna, v’en I vas a girl—do you live here?”

“I bunk here when I’m on Varg, if that’s what you mean, Miss Holmen. The other buildings are for my immediate staff and any visiting firemen. Yeh, the view is nice. But ... uh ... didn’t you like that planet—Zatlokopa, you call it?—the one you lived on, in the other cluster. Captain Poussin told me the climate was fine.”

“Veil, I say nothing against it. But thank God, ve vere too busy to feel often how lonely it vas for us.”

“I, uh, I understand you were doing quite well.”

“Yes. Vuns ve had learned, v’at you say, the ropes, ve got rich fast. In a few more years, Terran Traders, Inc., vould have been the greatest economic power in that ga-lactic region. Ve could have sent a thousand ships out look-ing for other survivors.” She shrugged. “I am not bragging. Ve had advantages. Such as necessity.”

“Uh-huh. What a notion!” He shook his head admir-ingly. “We both had the same problem, how to contact other humans and warn them about the situation. Judas priest, though, how much more elegant your solution was!”

“But slow,” she said. “Ve vere not expecting to be able to do much about it for years. The day Yael Blum came back from Yotl’s Nest and told v’at she had heard, a song being sung by a spaceman from another cluster—and ve knew other humans vere alive and ve could safely return here to them—no, there can only be two such days in my lifetime.”

“What’s the other one?”

She didn’t look at him, but surprised herself by how quietly she said, “V’en my first-born is laid in my arms.”

For a while only the wind blew, loud in the trees. “Yeah,” Donnan said at last, indistinctly, “I told you I bunked here. But it’s not a home. Couldn’t be, before now.”

As if trying to escape from too much revelation, she blurted, “Our problems are not ended. Vat vill the men do that don’t get ... get married?”

“That’s been thought about,” he answered, unwilling. “We, uh, we should pass on as many chromosomes as pos-sible. That is, uh, well, seems like—”

Her face burned and she held her eyes firmly on the blue hills. But she was able to say for him: “Best that in this first generation, each voman have children by several dif-ferent men?”

“Uh—

“Ve discussed this too, Carl, v’ile the Europa vas bound here. Some among us, like ... oh ... my friend Alexandra, for vun ... some are villing to live with any number of men. Polyandry, is that the vord?

So that solves part of the prob-lem. Others, like me—veil, ve shall do v’at seems our duty to the race, but ve only vant a single real husband. He ... he vill have to understand more than husbands needed to understand on Earth.”

Donnan caught her arm. The pressure became painful, but she wouldn’t have asked him to let go had it been worse.

Until, suddenly, he did. He almost flung her aside. She turned in astonishment and saw he had faced away. His head was hunched between his shoulders and his fists were knotted so the knuckles stood white.

“Carl,” she exclaimed. Carl, min k’dre, v’at is wrong?”

“We’re assuming,” he said as if strangled, “that the hu-man race ought to be continued.”

She stood mute. When he turned around again, his fea-tures were drawn into rigid lines and he regarded her as if she were an enemy. His tone stayed low, but shaken: “I asked you here for a talk ... because of something you said yesterday. I see now I played a lousy trick on you. You better go back.”

She took a step from him. Courage came. She stiffened her spine. “The first thing you must come to understand, you men,” she said with a bite in it, “is that a voman is not a doll. Or a child. I can stand as much as you.”

He stared at his boots. “I suppose so,” he muttered. “Con-sidering what you’ve already stood. But for three years, now, I’ve lived alone with something. Most times I could pretend it wasn’t there. But sometimes, lying awake at night—Why should I wish it onto anyone else?”

Her eyes overflowed. She went to him and put her arms about his neck and drew his head down on her shoulder. “Carl, you big brave clever fool, stop trying to carry the universe. I vant to help. That’s v’at I am for, you silly!”

After a while he released her and fumbled for his pipe. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks more than I can tell.”

She attempted a smile. “Th-th-the best thanks you can give is to be honest vith me. I’m curious, you know.”

“Well—” He filled the pipe, ignited the tobacco surro-gate and fumed forth clouds. Hands jammed in pockets, he started toward the house. “After all, the item you men-tioned gave me hope my nightmare might in fact be wrong. Maybe you won’t end up sharing a burden with me. You might lift it off altogether.” He paused. “If not, we’ll de-cide between us what to do. Whether to tell the others, ever, or let the knowledge die with us.”

She accompanied him inside. A long, airy room, paneled in light wood, carelessly jammed with odd souvenirs and male impedimenta, served him for a private office. She noticed the bunk in one corner and felt the blood mount in head and breast. Then the lustrous blue form of a Mon-waingi arose and fluted politely at her. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or to swear.

“Miss Holmen, meet Ramri of Tantha,” Donnan said. “He’s been my sidekick since we first left Earth, and my right hand and right eye since we got back. I figured he’d better sit in on our discussion. He probably knows more about this civilization-cluster than any other single being.”

The delicate fingers felt cool within her own. “Welcome,” said the avian in excellent English. “I cannot express what joy your ship’s arrival has given me. For the sake of my friends, and your race, and the entire cosmos.”

“Takkar sa° mycket” she whispered, too moved to use any but her father’s language. Donnan gave her a chair and sat down behind the desk. Ramri went back to his sitting-frame. The man puffed hard for a moment before he said roughly:

“The question we have to answer somewhere along the line, or we’ll never know where we stand or what to ex-pect, is this. Who destroyed Earth?”

“V’y ... Kandemir,” Sigrid replied, startled. “Is there any doubt?”

“Kandemir has denied it repeatedly. We’ve ransacked captured archives and interrogated prisoners for a good two years now, ever since Brandobar, without finding any con-clusive proof against them. Well, naturally, you say, that don’t signify. Knowing how such an act would inflame pub-lic opinion against them, they’d take elaborate security pre-cautions. Probably keep no written records whatsoever about the operation, and use hand-picked personnel who’d remain silent unto death. You know how strong clan loy-alty is in their upper-echelon families. So Kandemir might or might not be guilty, as far as that goes.”

“But the Solar System vas guarded by their missiles!” she protested.

“Yeah,” Donnan said. “And isn’t that a hell of a clumsy way to preserve the secret? Especially when those missiles were so programmed as to be less than maximum efficient. This is not mere guesswork, based on the chance that the Europa and the Franklin both managed to escape. Three months ago, I sent an expedition to the Solar System equipped with our new protective gizmos. Arn Goldspring was in charge, and what he can’t make a piece of appara-tus do isn’t worth the trouble. His gang disarmed and cap-tured several missiles, and dissected them down to the last setscrew. They were standard Kandemirian jobs. No doubt about that. But every one had been clumsily programmed. Doesn’t that suggest somebody was framing Kandemir?”

“Framing?” Sigrid blinked. “Vat ... oh, yes. I see. Some-vun vanted to make Kandemir seem guilty.”

She frowned. “Yes, possible. Though v’at ve found v’en ve boarded that vun missile suggests—” She ran out of words.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” said Donnan. “What you found, by a lucky chance, was unique. No such clue turned up in any that Goldspring examined. Did you bring your notes along as I asked?”

She handed them to him. He stared at them while silence stretched. Ramri walked around and looked over his shoulder.

“What d’you make of this?” Donnan asked at length.

“One set of symbols are Kandemirian numerals, of course,” Ramri said. “The other ... I do not know. I may or may not have seen them before. They look almost as if once, long ago, I did. But even in a single cluster, there are so many languages, so many alphabets—” His musings trailed off. Very lightly, he stroked a hand across Donnan’s forehead. “Do not let this fret you, Carl-my-friend,” he murmured.

“Over and over I have told you, what you learned on Katkinu is not the end of all faith. A mistake only. Anyone, any whole race, let alone a few bewildered members of a race, anyone can err. When will you listen to me, and forget what you saw?”

Donnan brushed him away and looked hard at Sigrid. “What did you think of this clue, you ladies?”

he asked. “You had three years to mull it over.”

“Ve did not think much,” she admitted. “There vas so much else to consider, everything ve had lost and every-thing ve must do to regain our hopes. Ve recognized the nu-merals. Ve thought maybe the other symbols vere letters. You know, in some obscure l^andemirian alphabet, differ-ent from the usual ErzhuatI Just as Europe, Russia, Greece, Israel, China used different languages and ^alphabets but the same Arabic numerals. Ve guessed probably these vere notes scribbled for his own guidance by some vorkman helping adjust the missile, who vas not too familiar vith the mechanism.”

“There are only six distinct unknown symbols,” Donnan grunted. “Not much of an alphabet, if you ask me.” He frowned again at the paper.

“They might then be numbers,” Ramri offered. “The workman may not have been Kandemirian at all. He could have belonged to a subject race. If the Kandemirians used vassals for the job who were never told what their task was, never even knew what planetary system they were in, that would increase secrecy.”

“But the missiles themselves, you dolt!” Donnan snarled. “They were the giveaway. What use these fancy precautions if anyone who saw a Mark IV Quester barreling toward him, and got away, could tell the galaxy it was Kandemirian?”

Ramri left the desk, stared at the floor, and said with sorrow, “Well, you force me, Carl. This was explained to you on Katkinu.”

Sigrid watched the paper on the desk as if she could al-most read something in those scrawls that it was forbidden to read. “Ve didn’t think much about this,” she said help-lessly. “For vun thing, none of us knew much about Kan—

demir anyvay, not even Captain Poussin. And vith so much else—Our notes lay forgotten in the ship. Until now.”

Realization stabbed home. She gasped, summoned her strength and said harshly, “All right. You have fiddled around plenty long. Vat did they show you on Katkinu?”

Donnan met her gaze blindly. “One more question,” he said without tone. “Seems I heard ... yeah, you’ve got a Yugoslav and an Israeli aboard, haven’t you? Either of them know anything about plans to emigrate from Earth? Were either the Balkan or the Arab countries—the Israelis would be bound to have some idea what the Arabs were up to—either alliance building more ships? Recruiting colon-ists of any sort?”

“No,” Sigrid said.

“You positive?”

“Yes. Surely. Remember, I vas concerned in the pan-Eur-opean project. I saw shipyards myself, read the journals, heard the gossip. Maybe some very small ships vas being made secretly, but something big enough to take many peo-ple to another planet, no. Not at the time ve left. And I don’t think there vas time aftervard to build much, before the end came.”

“No. There wasn’t.” Donnan shook himself. “Okay,” he said quickly, “that’s clue number two you’ve given me. However fine it would be to have more people alive, I ad-mit I was hoping for the answer you gave. How I was hop-ing!

“You see, on Katkinu I was shown a film made by the Monwaingi intelligence service. An interview with a trader from Xo, who admitted his combine had sold the Balkan and the Arab alliances something that military theorists once labeled a doomsday weapon. The ultimate deterrent.” His voice grew saw-edged. “A set of disruption bombs, able to sterilize the planet. Armed to go off automatically in the event of an attack on the countries possessing same. Got the idea? The Monwaingi believe Earth was not mur-dered. They think Earth committed suicide.”

Sigrid sagged in her chair. A dry little sound came from her, nothing else was possible. Donnan slammed the desk with his fist. “You see?” he almost shouted. “That’s what I didn’t want to share. Monwaing was willing to keep the secret. Why shouldn’t I? Why let my friends wonder too what race of monsters they belong to? Wonder what’s the use of keeping alive, then force themselves to go through the motions anyway—you see?”

He checked himself and went on more quietly: “I’ve tried to investigate further. Couldn’t get any positive in-formation one way or the other from Xo, in spite of some very expensive espionage. Well, naturally, they’d burn their own records of such a transaction. If you sold someone a gun and he turned out to be a homicidal maniac, even if you hadn’t known he was, you wouldn’t want to admit your part. Would you? Who’d ever come to your gunshop again?

“How do we explain those Kandemirian missiles? Well, Monwaing thinks Kandemir did plant those, but only after the deed was done. To stake a claim. The Solar System is strategically located: outflanks the Monwaingi stars. And when Earth has cooled, it’ll be colonized with less difficulty than many other planets would give. As for why the missiles are so inefficient, they are intended as a warning rather than an absolute death trap.

“Please note that Kandemir has never denied doing this much. Nor affirmed it, to be sure. But they did announce in their arrogant way that come the proper time, they would exercise rights of salvage; and meanwhile they wouldn’t be responsible for accidents to anyone entering the Solar System.”

Donnan rose. His chair clattered to the floor. He ignored it, strode around to Sigrid, hunkered down before her and took her hands. “Okay,” he said, suddenly gentle. “You know the worst. I think we three, here and now, have got all the clues anyone will ever have for certain. Maybe we can figure out who the enemy is. Or was. Buck up, kid. We’ve got to try.”

15

I tell you naught for your comfort,

Yea, naught for your desire,

Save that the sky grows darker yet

And the sea rises higher.

—Chesterton

As if thrusting away an attacker, she sprang to her feet. Donnan went over on his rear. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.” She bent to help him rise. He didn’t require her assistance but used it anyway. Their faces came close. He saw her lips stir. Suddenly his own quirked upward.

“We needed some comic relief,” he said. His arm slid down to her waist, lingered there a moment; she laid her head on his shoulder as fleetingly; they separated, but he continued to feel where they had touched. Not quite steadily, he went back to his desk, took his pipe and rekindled it.

“I think now I can stand any answer we may find,” he said low.

Color came and went beneath her skin. But she spoke crisply: “Let us list the possibilities. Ve have Kandemir and Earth herself as suspects. But who else? Vorlak? I do not vant to slander an ally, but could ... v’at you call him ... Draga Hlott, for some reason—”

“No,” Donnan said. He explained about the treaty with Russia. “Besides,” he added, “as the war developed, I got more and more pipelines into the Vorlakka government. Ger Nenna, one of their scholar-administrator class, was par-ticularly helpful. They, the Dragar, aren’t any good at dou-ble-dealing. Not only had they no reason to attack Earth—contrariwise—but if they ever did, they wouldn’t have op-erated under cover. And if by some chance they had pulled a sneak assault, they wouldn’t have been able to maintain the secret. No, I cleared them long ago.”

“Similar considerations apply to the lesser spacefaring worlds, like Yann and Unya,” Ramri said.

“They all feared Kandemir. While the Soviet-Vorlakka agreement was not publicized, everyone knew Earth was as natural a prey for the nomads as any other planet and, if the war lasted, would inevitably become involved on the allied side to some degree. Even were they able, no one would have eliminated a potential helper.”

“I checked them out pretty thoroughly with espionage just the same,” Donnan said bluntly. “They’re clean. The only alternatives are Kandemir and suicide.”

Sigrid twisted her hands together. “But suicide does not make sense,” she objected. “It is not only that I do not vant to believe it. In some vays it vould be more comfor-table to.”

“Huh?” Both Donnan and Ramri stared.

“Ja, v’y not? Then ve vould know Earth’s killers are dead and cannot threaten us any more.”

Donnan raised his shoulders and spread his hands. “I’d forgotten women are the cold-blooded, practical sex,” he muttered.

“No, but look, Carl. Let us suppose the doomsday veapon vas actually installed. Then v’y did no country try to plant some people off Earth? Even if, let us say, vuns she had this last resort ... even if Yugoslavia expected no vun vould dare attack her—still, Yugoslavia vould have been in a better bargaining position yet vith people on other planets. For then they could say, v’atever happened, a part of them would survive. And any other government notified about the veapon vould have tried to take out similar insurance. In-surance against accident, if nothing else. Or against ... oh ... blackmail, in case Yugoslavia ever got a nihilist dicta-tor like Hitler vas in his day. So there vould have been some emigration from Earth. But ve know for sure there vas not. Even if the emigrants left this cluster, spacemen like Monvaingi vould have noticed it and you vould have heard them talk about it.”

Donnan yanked his attention from her to her words. They made sense. He’d speculated along some such lines him-self, but had been too shaken emotionally to put his ideas in her cool terms, and too busy making war to straighten out those private horrors that inhibited his reasoning about the subject.

“One possibility,” he said. “If Kandemir got wind of the doomsday weapon, Kandemir might’a seized the opportunity, since the destruction of Earth would then be like shooting fish in a barrel. Yugoslavia and the rest might never have had time to organize colonization schemes.”

The fair head shook. “I think not,” she answered. “Maybe they vere angry men governing Earth’s nations, but they vere shrewd too. They had to be. Countries, especially little countries, did not last long in this century if they had stupid leaders. The Balkan and Arab politicians vould have fore-seen just the chance of attack you mention. Not only Kan* demir, but any planet—any pirate fleet, even, if somebody got vun—anybody could blackmail Earth. No? So I do not think they vould have bought a doomsday veapon unless lots of spaceships vere included in the package.”

An eerie tingle moved up Donnan’s spine. He smote one fist into the other palm, soundlessly, again and again. “By God, yes,” he whispered. “You’ve hit the point that Mon-waing and I both missed. The Monwaingi couldn’t be ex-pected to know our psychology that well, I reckon, but I should have seen it. The whole concept of the weapon was lunacy. But lunatics are at least logical thinkers.”

Sigrid threw back her shoulders. The lilting voice lifted till it filled the room: “Carl, I do not believe there ever vas any such veapon sold. It just does not figure. Most ‘specially not in galactic terms. See, yes, there still vere countries that did not like each other. But those old grudges vere becoming less and less important all the time. There vas still some fighting, but the big atomic var never hap-pened, in spite of almost every country having means to fight it. Does that not show the situation vas stable? That there never vould have been a var? At least, not the var everybody vas vorrying about.

“Earth vas turning outvard. The old issues vere stopping to matter. Vat vas the use of a doomsday veapon? It vould have been a Chinese vail, built against an enemy that no more existed. For the same price, buying spaceships, buy-ing modern education for the young people, a country could have gained ten times the power ... and achievement ... and safety. I tell you, the suicide story is not true.”

For a moment neither of the others spoke. They couldn’t. Ramri’s feathers rose. He swelled his throat pouch and ex-postulated, “But we know! Our intelligence made that Xoan admit—”

“He lied,” Sigrid interrupted. “Is your intelligence alvays correct?”

“Why? Why?” Ramri paced, not as a man does, but in great leaps back and forth between the walls.

“What could Xo gain from such a lie? No conceivable advantage!

Even the individual who finally confessed, he got nothing but clearance for his ship to leave Monwaing. Absurd I”

Donnan gazed long at his friend before he said, “I think you’d better own up, Ramri: your general staff was had. Let’s go on from there.”

The end of his nightmare had not eased the wire taut-ness in him. He bent over the sheet of paper on his desk as if it were an oracular wall. The unhuman symbols seemed to intertwine like snakes before his eyes. He focused, instead, on the Roman analogues which had been written in parallel columns.