TWELVE

“You’re a free man, Jim, free. Free as the birds!”

I talked to myself in an effort at morale boosting and it helped a little bit. But there were no birds here to be free as. Nothing in the frozen waste except myself, slogging along one snow-impeded step after another. What had Kraj said about this planet, so many years ago? Doing a little memory-racking helped take my thoughts away from the present predicament for a few moments. All the memory training courses I had taken should be of some use now. I made the correct sequence of associations—and up the memory popped. Very good.

Always cold, he had said. True enough, as well as nothing green, nothing ever growing. This could be a midsummer day for all I knew. If so they could keep the winter. Fish in the sea, Kraj had said, all native life in the sea. Nothing lived on the snow. Except me, that is. And how long I lived depended on how long I kept moving. The clothes I was wearing were fine—as long as I put a little heat into them by putting one foot after the other. This could not go on forever. But I had seen one building when we landed. There should be others. There had to be something other than the unending snow.

There was—and I almost fell into it. As I put my foot down I felt something give way, shift out from under me. Purely by reflex I threw myself backward, falling into the snow. Before me the packed snow cracked open, moved away, and I looked down at the dark water. As the crack widened and I saw the edge of the ice I realized I was not on the land at all—but bad walked out onto the frozen surface of the sea.

At this temperature if I fell in, as much as got a hand or foot wet, I would be dead. Frozen. I did not think much of this idea at all. Without standing up, keeping my weight spread out as much as I could, I pushed and slithered back from the brink. Only when I was well away from the edge did I dare stand and shamble back the way I had come, retracing the track of my rapidly disappearing footsteps.

“Now what, Jim? Think fast. There’s water out there, which is very difficult stuff to walk on.”

I stopped and looked around carefully in a complete circle. The snow had stopped falling, but the wind kept picking it up and whipping it about in gusty clouds. But, now that I knew what to look for, I could see the dark line of the ocean in the moments when visibility cleared. It stretched as far as I could see to right and left, directly across the route I had been taking.

“Then you won’t go that way.” I turned about. “From the looks of your ragged trail, mighty arctic explorer, you came in from that direction. There is no point in going back. Yet. The reception party will be sharpening their knives now. So think.”

I thought. If the land were as barren as Kraj bad said, their settlements and buildings would never be far from the ocean’s edge. Therefore I had to stay close to the shore as I could without falling in. Follow the edge of the ice away from the direction I had come. Hoping that the spaceport building I had left was not the last one on the outskirts of town. I plodded on. Trying very hard to ignore the fact that the feeble glow of the sun was lower in the sky. When night fell so would I. I had no idea how long the days and nights on Kekkonshiki were—but I had a sinking sensation that, short or long, I would not be around to see the dawn. Shelter must be found. Go back? Not yet. Madness probably—but press on.

As the sun sank so did my hopes. The snow plain was darker now, but still featureless. Pushing through the heavy snow had wearied me to exhaustion and past. Only the knowledge that I would be dead if I stopped kept me putting one leaden foot in front of the other. Although I had pulled the hat far down over my face there was little sensation left in my nose and cheeks.

Then I found myself falling and bad to stop. On my hands and knees in the snow, panting hoarsely, gasping for breath.

“Why not stay here, Jim?” I asked myself. “It will be easier than going on, and they say it is painless to freeze to death.” It sounded like a good idea.

“It does not sound like a good idea, you idiot. Stand up and keep going.”

I did, though it took a decided effort to struggle to my feet. An even greater effort to put one foot in front of the other. The simple act of walking took so much of my attention that the dark spots on the horizon were visible for some time before I became consciously aware of them. At first all I did was stand and stare trying to gather my ice-numbed thoughts. They were moving, getting larger. With this realization I dropped full length in the snow. Lay there, watching intently, while three figures whipped silently by on skis no more than a hundred meters away.

After they had passed I forced myself to wait until they were out of sight before getting to my feet again. This time I was not even aware that it took any effort to do this. A small spark of hope had not only been kindled but burst into flame. The snow had stopped falling and the wind had died down. The tracks of the skis were sharp and clear. They were going someplace—someplace they had planned to be before dark. Well, so was I! Filled with sudden false energy I stepped onto the tracks and turned to follow them.

Although the energy burned away very quickly I still kept going. Now the approaching night brought encouragement instead of despair. The skiers were faster than I—but not that fast. They would be at their destination before nightfall and, hopefully, so would I. I slogged on.

The theory had to be correct, but in practice it was just not working out. The sun was still above the horizon, but behind thick and nasty-looking clouds, while the visibility was falling. The tracks were getting harder and harder to follow. And I had to rest. Tottering to a stop I looked up and blinked and peered ahead and saw a black smudge on the horizon. My brain was still in the deepfreeze and it took a good number of seconds to understand the significance of what I was looking at.

“Black is beautiful!” My voice was hoarse, almost gone. “It is not white snow and anything but snow is what you need right now.”

My shambling walk became a far superior shamble, and I swung my arms and kept my head high. I tried to whistle too, but my lips were too cracked and cold for that. It was a good thing, since the wind had died as sunset approached and everything was deathly still. The dark blur resolved itself into a building—no, a group of buildings. Closer and closer. Dark stone. Small windows. Slanted roofs that would not collect snow. Solid and ugly. What was that squeaking, crunching sound, growing louder?

I was walking silently because I was still in the heavy snow. But those were footsteps on packed snow.

Getting closer. Back? No, drop. As I dived for cover the footsteps turned the comer of the nearest building.

About all I could do was lie there motionless and hope that I would not be seen. It was sheer luck that I was not. The footsteps, more than one person, grew louder and louder, crunched by and died away. I risked a quick look and saw the retreating backs of a column of short figures. About twenty of them. They turned another comer and were out of sight and hearing. With a desperate effort I scratched and scrambled to my feet and stumbled after them. Turning the comer behind the column just in time to see the last one vanishing into a building. A large and heavy door closed with a positive sound. That was for me. I was falling forward more than running, using my last reserves of energy, reserves I bad not known I had. Ending up against the gray metal door, tugging at the handle.

It did not move.

Life has moments like this that are best forgotten and glossed over. In later years they may seem funny, and people can laugh over them when they are described after dinner, warming drink in hand, sitting by a roaring fire. At the time, though, this not only didn’t seem funny, it seemed to be the absolute end.

Pulling didn’t work and the handle did not turn when I fumbled at it with numb fingers. In the end I fell forward with exhaustion, leaning against the handle so I wouldn’t fall. It pushed in and the door opened.

Just for once I made no attempt to reconnoiter what was on the other side. I half walked, half fell into the dark alcove inside and let the door close behind me. Warmth, delicious warmth washed over me and I just leaned against the wall and appreciated it. Looking down a long and badly illuminated corridor Of Toughly carved stone. I was alone, but there were doors all along the corridor and someone could emerge at any moment. But there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. If the wall had been taken away I would have fallen down. So I leaned there like a frozen statue, dripping melting snow onto the flagstones on the floor, feeling life ooze back as the beat seeped in.

The nearest door, just two meters before me, opened and a man stepped out.

All he had to do was turn his head a bit to spot me. I could see him clearly, even in the dim light, the gray clothes, long greasy hair—even the flecking of dandruff on his shoulders. He closed the door, still with his back turned, inserted a key and locked it.

Then he walked away from me down the corridor and was gone.

“It’s almost time you stopped leaning here and thought of something to do, you rusty stainless steel rat,” I encouraged myself in a throaty whisper. “Don’t stretch your luck. Get out of the corridor. Why not through that door? After he locked it that way the chances are good that no one else is inside.”

Good thinking, Jim. Except what do I do for a picklock? Improvise, that’s what. I pulled off the gloves and tucked them into my jacket along with the fur hat. Though it was probably chill and dank inside the building it felt like a furnace after the outside. Life, as well as a certain amount of tingling pain, was coming back to my blue fingers. I took up the dangling end of the cable that hung from the metal collar still locked around my neck. Wires inside. Small but possible. I chewed them into a pointed mass with my teeth, then probed the lock.

It was a simple lock, the keyhole was very big, I have great burglar’s skills. Well ... I was lucky. I pushed and twisted and grunted and did everything but kick the door until the lock sprung open. Darkness beyond. I eased through, closed and locked it behind me—and breathed a very deep sigh of relief. For the first time since I had made my break I felt that I had a chance. With a happy sigh I slumped to the floor and fell asleep.

Well, almost. Tired and exhausted as I was, even as my eyes were closing, I realized that this was definitely not the right thing to do. To have come this far—and to be recaptured because I fell asleep. That was ludicrous.

“To work,” I told myself, then bit my tongue. It worked fine. I lurched to my feet, muttering uncouthly at the pain, and felt my way through the blackness with outstretched bands. I was in a narrow room or corridor, little wider than my shoulders. There was nothing to be accomplished standing there so I shuffled forward to a bend where there was a dim glow of light. Still wary, I poked my head around it carefully to see a window set into the Wall beyond. A small boy was standing on the other side of the window, looking directly at me.

It was too late to pull back. I tried smiling at him, then frowning, but be did not respond. Then he raised his fingers and ran them through his hair, patting the hair into place afterward. A bell rang dimly in the distance and he turned his head to look, then walked away.

Of course. One-way glass. A mirror from his side, a foggy window from mine. Set there with a purpose. To observe without being observed. To observe what? I walked around and looked at what was obviously a classroom. The boy, along with a number of counterparts, now sat at a desk watching the teacher intently. This individual, a gray man with equally gray hair, stood before the glass lecturing unemotionally. His face was expressionless as he talked. And so were—I realized suddenly—the faces of the boys. No smiling, laughter, gumchewing. Nothing but stolid attention. Very unschoolroomlike at least in my experience. The framed poster behind the teacher’s back carried the message. In large, black letters it read:

DO NOT SMILE

A second sign to one side of it continued the message.

DO NOT FROWN

Both admonitions were being grimly obeyed. What kind of a schoolroom was this? As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness I saw a switch and a loudspeaker next to the glass; the function seemed obvious. I flicked the switch and the teacher’s voice rolled over me in drab tones.

“... Moral Philosophy. This course is a required course and every one of you will take it and stay with the course until you have a perfect grade. There are no failures. Moral Philosophy is what makes us great.

Moral Philosophy is what enables us to rule. You have read your history books, you know the Days of Kekkonshiki. You know how we were abandoned, how we died, how only the Thousand were left alive. When they were weak, they died. When they were afraid, they died. When they allowed emotion to rule reason, they died. All of you are here today because they lived. Moral Philosophy enabled them to live. It will enable you to live as well. To live and grow and to leave this world and bring our rule to the weaker and softer races. We are superior. We have that right. Now tell me. If you are weak?”

“We die.” The boyish voices chanted in expressionless harmony.

“If you are afraid?”

“We die.”

“If you allow emotion …”

I switched off the program, having the feeling that I had heard more than enough for the moment. It gave pause for thought. For all of the years that I had been pursuing and battling with the gray men I had never bothered to stop and think why they were what they were. I had just taken their nastiness for granted. The few words I had overheard told me that their brutality and intransigence was no accident. Abandoned, that’s what the teacher had said. For reasons lost in the depths of time a colony must have been established on this planet. For ore or minerals of some kind, possibly. It was so inhospitable, so far from the nearest settled worlds, that there had to have been a good reason to come here, to work to establish a settlement. Then the people here had been abandoned. Either for local reasons, or during the bad years of the Breakdown. Undoubtedly the colony had never been meant to be self-sustaining. But, once on its own, it had to be. The majority must have died; a handful lived. Lived—if it can be called that—by abandoning all human graces and emotions, lived by devoting their lives simply to the battle for existence. They had fought this implacably brutal planet and had won.

But they had lost a good deal of their humanity in doing this. They had become machines for survival and bad brutalized themselves emotionally, crippled themselves. And passed on this disability as a strength to the future generations. Moral Philosophy. But moral only when it related to surviving on this savage planet. Most unmoral when it came to subjugating other people. Yet there was a horrible kind of correctness to it—at least from their point of view. The rest of mankind was weak and filled with unneeded emotions, smiling and frowning, wasting energy on frivolities These people not only thought they were better—their training forced them to believe that they were better. That and the inculcated generations of hatred of the others who had abandoned them here made them into the perfect galaxy conquerors. On their terms they were helping all the planets they conquered. The weak should die; that was right. The survivors would be led down the path of righteousness to a better life.

Being few in number they could not conquer directly but must work through others. They had engineered and managed the interplanetary invasions of the Cliaand. Invasions that had been succeeding until the Special Corps had busted things up. A busting-up that I had organized. No wonder they had been eager to get their cold little hands on me.

And this was the training ground. The school that made sure that every little Kekkonshiki kid was turned into an emotionless copy of his elders. No fun here. This school for survival that perverted every natural tendency of youth fascinated me. I was warm now, and safe enough for the moment, and the more I learned about this place the better chances I would have to make some plan to do something. Other than lurk in dark corridors. I went on to the next classroom. A workshop, applied science or engineering. Bigger boys here working on apparatus of some kind.

Some kind. That kind! I clutched the metal ring about my neck while I looked on, as hypnotized and paralyzed as a bird by a snake.

They were working on the little metal boxes with push buttons. Boxes with cables that ran to collars like the one I was wearing. Scientific torture machines. I moved my hand slowly and switched on the speaker.

“... the difference is in application, not in theory. You assemble and test these synaptic generators in order to familiarize yourself with the circuitry. Then, when you go on to axion feeds you will have a working knowledge of the steps involved. Now, turn to the diagram on page thirty...”

Axion feeds. That was something I would have to learn more about. It was only a guess—but it seemed a sound one—that this gadget was the one I had never seen. But had experienced. The brain-stomper that had generated all my horrible memories. Memories of things that had never happened, never existed outside my brain. But which were none the better for that. It was all very revealing.

All very stupid of me. Standing there like a sadistic voyeur and not thinking of my flanks. Because of the teacher’s voice muttering away and I did not hear the footsteps approaching, did not know the other man was there until he turned the corner and almost walked right into me.

THIRTEEN

Action is superior to thought in a situation like this and I hurled myself at him, hands grasping for his throat. Silence first then quickly unconscious. He did not move but he did speak.

“Welcome to Yurusareta School. James diGriz. I was hoping you would find your way here—“

His words shut off as my thumbs closed down on his windpipe. He made no move to resist nor did his expression change in the slightest as he looked me calmly in the eyes. His skin was loose and wrinkled and I realized suddenly that he was very, very old.

Although I am well equipped by training and circumstance to fight, and even kill, in self-defense, I am not really very good at throttling old grandfathers to death while they are quietly watching me. My fingers loosened of their own accord. I matched the man stare for stare and snarled in my most nasty manner.

“Shout for help and you are dead in an instant.”

“That is the last thing I wish to do. My name is Hanasu and I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since you escaped. I have done my best to lead you here.”

“Would you mind explaining that?” I let my hands fall, though I was still alert for trouble.

“Of course. As soon as I heard the radio report I tried to put myself in your place. If you went south or east you would end up among the buildings of the city where you would be quickly found. If you did not do this your course would take you west in the direction of this school. Of course if you headed north you would come to the sea very quickly and would then still have to go west. Operating on this theory I changed today’s schedules and decided that all of the boys needed more exercise. They are all hating me now because they missed hours of classroom study that will have to be made up tonight. But they all did a number of kilometers on skis. Their course, not by chance, took them first south then west, to return here in a large loop along the shore. This was designed so that if you did see any of them you would follow them here. Is that what you did?”

There was no point in lying. “Yes. Now what do you plan to do?”

“Do? Why, talk to you of course. You were not seen entering the building?”

“No. Is

“Better than I expected. I was sure I would have to axionfeed some people. You are very ingenious, I should have remembered that. Now, the other end of this observation gallery leads to my office. Shall we go there?”

“Why? You’re going to turn me in?”

“No. I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Naturally, you have no reason to. But you have little choice. Since you did not kill me at once I doubt if you will do it now. Follow me.”

At that Hanasu turned and walked away. There was little else I could do except trot after him. And stay close. Maybe I couldn’t chop him down in the prime of his senile life, but I could certainly grab him and wrap him like a package if he tried to call in any alarms.

The gallery wound up and down by many other classes, and I had tantalizing glimpses of what they were doing. But no chance to stop. I was right behind him when he climbed a short flight of steps and reached for the door handle. I put my hand out and stopped him.

“What’s in here?” I asked.

“My office, as I said.”

“Is anyone in there?”

“I doubt it. They have no permission to enter when I am not there. But I can look—“

“I think I would prefer to do that myself.”

Which I did, and he was right. I felt very much like a lizard as I searched the room trying to keep one eye on him and the other on the fixtures, both at the same time. A narrow window opening out onto blackness, shelves of books, a large desk, files, a few chairs. I waved him to the one furthest from the desk—where any buttons or alarms would not be located. He went quietly, sitting and folding his hands while I prowled a bit more. There was a jug of water and a glass on the sideboard and I suddenly realized how thirsty I was. I poured and glugged and managed to finish all of it. Then I dropped into the chair behind his desk, put my feet up on it.

“And you really want to help me?” I asked, in my most skeptical tone of voice.

“Yes, I do.”

“For openers you might show me how to take this collar off my neck.”

“Of course. You’ll find a key in the right hand drawer of the desk. The keyhole is just below the cable connection on the collar.”

It took a bit of fumbling, but the collar finally snapped open and I threw it into the corner. “Great. A wonderful feeling.” I looked around. “A nice office. Do you run this place?”

“I am the headmaster, yes. I was exiled here as punishment. They would have killed me, but they did not dare.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about. Would you care to explain?”

“Of course. The Committee of Ten rule this planet. I was on this committee for many years. I am an extremely good organizer. I originated and planned the entire Cliaand operation. When it was terminated, thanks to your efforts, I returned and became First of the Committee. That was when I attempted to alter our programs and they punished me for it. I have been at this school ever since. I cannot leave here nor can I change one word of the program which is fixed and immutable. It is a very safe prison.”

This was getting more and more interesting. “What changes did you try to make?”

“Radical ones. I began to doubt all of our aims. I bad been exposed to other cultures, corrupted they said, as I began to question ours more and more. But as soon as I tried to put my new ideas into force I was apprehended, removed, sent here. There can be no new ideas on Kekkonshiki ...”

The door opened and a wheeled cart was pushed in by a small boy.

“I have brought your dinner, Headmaster,” he said, then saw me behind the desk. His expression did not alter in the slightest. “That is the prisoner who escaped.”

Only fatigue kept me in the chair; I had been through a lot this day and my mind was as tired as my body. What was I to do with this child?

“You are correct, Yoru,” Hanasu said. “Come in and watch him while I go for help-“

I was on my feet when I beard that, ready to knock some heads together. But Hanasu did not leave the room. Instead he stepped behind Yoru and silently closed the door. Then he took a black metal device from a shelf and touched it lightly to the back of the boy’s neck. The boy froze, eyes open, immobile.

“There is no danger now,” Hanasu said. “I will remove a few minutes of the lad’s memory, that is all.”

My throat closed and I felt the disgust—mixed with hatred and, yes, fear—rising within me. “That thing in your hand. What is it”

“The axion feed. You will have seen it many times, though of course you have no memory of that. It can remove memories and replace them with others. Now if you will step behind the door to the gallery the boy will enter again and leave.”

Did I have a choice? I don’t know. Perhaps the sight of the brain-tramping machine along with my fatigue was making me simple. I did not question; I just obeyed. Though I did leave the door open a crack to watch. Hanasu made some adjustments on the machine and pressed it to the boy’s neck again. Nothing appeared to happen. Then he opened the door and regained his seat. A few seconds later the boy moved, pushing the cart further into the room.

“I have brought your dinner, Headmaster,” he said.

“Leave it and do not return tonight. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Yes, Headmaster.” He turned and left and I emerged from my hiding place.

“That machine—it’s the one they used on me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s the foulest, most disgusting thing I have ever heard of.”

“It is just a machine,” be said emotionlessly, then replaced it on the shelf. “I do not need food now and you will be hungry after your exposure. Help yourself.”

Too many things had been happening too quickly for me to think about my appetite. But now that he had mentioned it I realized that I was hungry enough to eat a cow, raw. I threw back the cover on the plate and there was a rush of saliva at the sight of the food. It was the same tasteless dried fish ration I had had on the spacer, but was the finest dinner imaginable at that moment. I shoveled and chomped and listened to Hanasu.

“I am trying to understand your reasons for saying that the machine is disgusting. You mean the uses it is put to, don’t you?” I nodded, my mouth too full to talk. “I can understand your reasoning. ‘Mat is my trouble. I am very intelligent or I would not have been first in my classes and then first on the Committee. During the years I have given this much thought and have concluded that most of the people on this planet are both stupid and unimaginative. Intelligence and imagination are handicaps to basic survival in an environment as harsh as ours. We have selectively bred them out. Which means I am a sport, a mutant. These differences lay dormant during my early years. I believed everything I was taught and excelled in my studies. I did not question then because questioning is unknown here. Obedience is all. Now I question. We are not superior to all of the rest of mankind—just different. Our attempts to destroy or rule them all were wrong. Our liaison with the aliens to war on our own specie the biggest crime of all.”

“You’re right,” I said, swallowing the last bite regretfully. I could have started all over again. Hanasu went on as though he had not heard me.

“When I discovered these facts I tried to change our aims. But it is impossible. I cannot even change one word of the training these children get—and I am in charge of the school.”

“I can change everything,” I told him.

“Of course,” he said, turning to face me. Then his immobile face cracked, the comers of his mouth turned up. He smiled, ever so slightly—but it was still a smile. “Why do you think I wanted to get you here? You can do what I have labored my lifetime to accomplish. Save the people of this chill planet from themselves.”

“One message would do it. Just the location of this planet.”

“And then—your League would come and destroy us. It is tragic but inevitable.”

“No. Wouldn’t harm a hair of your heads.”

“That is a jest and I do not like it! Do not mock me!” There was almost a trace of anger in his voice.

“It’s the truth. You just don’t know how a civilized society will react. I admit that a lot of people, if they knew who you were, would relish dropping a planet buster onto you. But with luck the general public will never know. The League will just keep an eye on your people to see that they don’t cause any more trouble. And offer you the usual aid and assistance.”

He was baffled. “I don’t understand. They must kill us—“

“Stop with the killing already. That’s your trouble. Live or die. Kill or be killed. That philosophy belongs to a darker stage of mankind’s development that we have hopefully left behind. We may not have the best of all possible ethical systems or civilizations, but we at least have one that forbears violence as an institution. Why do you think your alien friends are doing so well? We no longer have armies or fleets to fight wars. We no longer have wars. Until people like yours come along and try to turn the clock back twenty thousand years or so. There is no need for killing as a tool of government. Ever.”

“There must be the rule of law. If a man kills he must be killed in return.”

“Nonsense. That does not bring the dead back to life. And the society doing the killing then becomes no more than a murderer itself. And I see your mouth open for the next argument. Capital punishment is no deterrent to others, that has been proven. Violence breeds violence, killing breeds killing.”

Hanasu paced back and forth the length of the room, trying to understand these—to him—alien concepts. I scraped the plate again and licked off the spoon. He sighed and dropped back into his chair.

“These things you tell me—they are beyond understanding. I must study them, but that is not important now. What is important is that I have made my mind up. I have been thinking about it for years and have decided. The Kekkonshiki plans must be stopped. There has been too much killing. It is only fit that it end by all of us being killed. You have told me this will not happen and I would like to believe you. But it does not matter. The message must be sent to your League.”

“How?”

“You must tell me. Don’t you think I would have contacted them well before this if I had the means?” “Yes, of course.” Now I was pacing the floor. “No mail service to other planets, of course. No psimen here—or are there? Not that it’s important. They wouldn’t send this message. Radio?”

“The nearest League base is 430 light years away.”

“Yes, well, we don’t want to wait that long. I’ll just have to find a way to get aboard one of the ships when they leave.”

“I think that will be next to impossible.”

“I’m sure of it. So what do you suggest. I know—you just asked me that same question. But there has to be a way. Maybe I had better sleep on it. Is there any place safe ...”

I was interrupted by a high warbling sound. My eyebrows shot up.

“It is the communicator. An outside call. Stand against that wall where you will be out of range of the eye.”

He seated himself at the desk and switched on.

“Hanasu,” he said, face and voice frozen.

“A squad will reach you in a few minutes. They will seat all exits from the school. The foreigner has been traced in your direction and may be hiding there. Transportation is on the way now with six more squads. The school will be searched and he will be found.”

FOURTEEN

“What evidence do you have that he is at the school?” Hanasu asked.

“Footprints in the snow. Going in your direction. He is either hidden in your school or he is dead.”

“The students will aid in the search. They know the school buildings well.”

“Issue that order.”

Hanasu turned off the communicator and looked at me coldly. “We will not be able to carry out our plans after all. After they capture you they will use the axion feed to uncover my part in this. Do you wish to commit suicide to protect me?”

All of this was delivered deadpan with no change in tone. Although the room was chill I felt small prickles of sweat breaking out.

“Not so fast! All is not lost yet. Let us sort of save the suicide bit as a last resort. There must be some place I can hide?”

“No. They will look in every place.”

“What about here? In your quarters. Tell them you searched and I’m not there.”

“You do not understand our people. Whatever I—or anyone—might say the search will still go on as planned. We are very thorough.”

“But unimaginative. I’ll out-think them.” I was feeling very unimaginative myself at the moment. Only the spurt of adrenaline generated by the suicide offer kept my engines chugging away at all. I looked around with a feeling of desperation. “The window? I can go through it, hide...”

“It does not open. It is fixed in place.”

“Never opens? Not even in the summer?”

“It is summer.”

“I was afraid you would say that. All is not lost yet!” There was a tinge of desperation in my voice because I had the awful feeling that everything was lost. “I know. If not inside I’ll bide outside. There must be a way to get up onto the roof. Make repairs, nail down loose shingles.”

“There are no shingles.”

I resisted the urge to tear out a handful of hair. “Look—I don’t mean it literally. But is there a way to get on the roof from inside the building?”

“There might be.”

I fought hard with myself not to shake him by the neck until he gave me the right answers. “Are there plans? Blueprints of the school?”

“Yes. There in the file.”

“Then get them. Quickly if you please.” How long would it be before the search squads arrived? I cracked by knuckles and chewed my thumb and grabbed the sheets when he produced them. Flipping through them rapidly. Trying to ignore Hanasu’s cheery observations.

“This is a waste of time. There is no escape. I do not wish to be interrogated with the axion feed. Therefore if you will not commit suicide I will ...”

“Stop with the gloom already!” I snarled. It was depressing. My finger stabbed down. “There! What is that, that symbol?”

Hanasu held the sheet at arm’s length, adjusted the light, squinted at it. My pulse rate doubled. “Yes, I see it,” he finally said . It is a door.”

I clapped him on the back. “We’re home free! If you do just as I say. First—order everyone in the school to get together. Not just the students but the teachers, cooks, gardeners, torture specialists. Everyone.”

“We don’t have any gardeners.”

“I don’t care!” My voice was beginning to crack and I had to fight a measure of control back into it. “Just get them all together—now—to help in the search. Talk first and I’ll explain later.”

He obeyed without question. Good old Kekkonshiki discipline. By the time he had made the announcement I knew what came next.

“I can’t risk being seen, so you will have to get what I need from the labs. I want a power tool—make sure it’s fully charged—at least ten long nails or screws, fifty meters of 500-kilo test line, a battery light and a lubricator. Where is the safest place for me to wait while you get them?”

“Here. There will be people in the corridors. By the time I return they will all be in the assembly hall.”

“That was sort of my idea too.”

“I do not know what you are planning but I will help you. There will be time for me to commit suicide after you are captured.”

“That’s it, Hanasu boy, always look on the bright side. Now go!”

He went and I prowled the carpet and looked for an unchewed fingernail to chew. I jumped when the communicator buzzed, but I stayed far away from it. Hanasu was gone all of four minutes. It felt like four days.

“They are all assembled and the search squads are here,” he said.

“That’s good news. Go down and organize them. See that they do a good and thorough job and work upward from the bottom to the top. I’ll need all the time I can get since I have no idea what I will find.”

“You are going on to the roof?”

“What you don’t know you can’t tell. Get moving.”

“You are of course correct.” He started for the door and, as he opened it, turned back for an instant. “Good luck. Isn’t that what is said in a circumstance like this?”

“It is. Thanks. Good luck yourself. And I’ll see if we can’t avoid the mutual suicide pact.”

I was out right behind him, running up the stairs as he tottered down, the construction diagram clutched in my hand. The climb was nice and warming, but I was panting loudly by the time I had reached the top floor. It had been a long day. Down to the end of the corridor to what appeared to be a storeroom. The door of which was locked.

“Jim diGriz laughs at locks,” I laughed as I used one of the large nails to pick the even larger lock. The door swung open with a loud squeaking and I was through and slammed it behind me. There was no light switch that I could find and the air was frigid and musty. I turned on the light I had brought and looked around, treading between the heaped boxes and ancient files. The door I was looking for was at the far end of the room, a good four meters above the floor. There was no ladder.

“Better and better,” I chortled and began to collect boxes that I could climb up on.

This took some time since I could not drag any of them and leave marks that might be noticed. I had to carry each one and stack it on the ones below to build a pile. Before I was done I was no longer feeling chill. In fact I sweated a bit when I thought of the searchers and wondered how close they were getting. I stacked faster.

The door was more of a trapdoor, a meter-square lid let into the angle of the roof just below the peak. When I pushed at it it squeaked and a fine rain of rust particles showered down on me, which is about what I expected. I carefully applied the lubricant so it didn’t drip, then wiped up all the rust. It would have been obvious it had been opened recently if I left it in its original condition. Now it was just another smooth-working trapdoor—and I only hoped that whoever was in charge of trapdoors like this wasn’t around when the search was made. This was a chance I had to take. Now, when I pushed up on the trapdoor, it lifted easily and a blast of freezing air rushed in. I opened it all the way and poked my head out into the freezing night. Stars sparkled in the darkness above giving just enough light for me to see that there was absolutely no place of concealment on the roof.

“Solve that one when you come to it, Jim,” I told myself with false good humor. “One step at the time, you crafty devil. You’ve licked them so far—you’ll win in the end.”

While I babbled this fatuous morale boosting I was driving a heavy nail into the coping outside. When it was well home I tied the end of the line to it. The 500-kilo test had enough diameter to take a grip, which is why I had selected it.

After that it was simply a matter of putting the boxes back where I had found them while trying not to think of the searchers getting closer every second. I was almost there—though I still wasn’t quite sure where “there” was. All I wanted to do was to rush up to the roof and to close the trapdoor. What I did was to carefully go over the entire floor with my light to be sure I had left no traces of my passage. I found a lovely big footprint in the dust of one of the boxes; I turned the box on its side. Only when I was sure that nothing obvious indicated my visit did I go to the line leading up to the opening. After making sure that all my equipment was secure, I turned off the light, stowed it in my pocket and seized the line.

Behind me in the darkness, I heard a key rattle in the lock.

Now, I don’t know if there is any athletic event called the four-meter rope climb. But if there is I am sure that I set a new record at that moment. Without pausing for breath I was up it, hand over hand, grappling with insane desperation. One instant I was on the floor, the next I had the edge of the opening in my hand, was up and through it, stretched full length on the peak of the roof with one leg on each side, pulling up the rest of the rope. It seemed endless and I had finally pulled it all clear and was closing the trapdoor—when a light appeared in the room below.

“You take that side, Bukai, and I’ll do this one,” a gruff and toneless voice said. “Look behind all the boxes. Open ones big enough for a man.”

With desperate caution I closed the door, holding fast with my fingertips until it was in place. What next? Would the searchers come up here? To ask the question was to have the answer. Of course they would.

They would look everywhere a man could possibly be. Then I must find an impossible place. The featureless, welded metal surface on the roof filled me with no enthusiasm. It slanted away on both sides at a steep angle. Ahead of me, not five meters away, was the end of the roof. Featureless. Nothing in that direction, so perhaps in the other. I grunted as I pulled one leg up to turn around. It was then that I discovered that the metal was covered with a thin sheet of ice. My feet shot out from under me and I started to slide.

Down the slippery surface, my fingers scrabbling for holds that did not exist, faster and faster toward the edge and the drop to the frozen surface far below.

Until I remembered that the line was still attached.

I grabbed at it with both hands. It slithered through my gloves. Then I gripped harder and held on. The shock on my arms when I stopped was something else again.

All I could do was hold on. Waiting for the pain to go away. Aware that my feet were hanging over the abyss. As soon as I could I dragged myself up, hand over hand, to the peak of the roof again. Where I remembered the searchers below and the fact that the trapdoor was going to be open very soon.

Of course the roof in the other direction was as featureless. Maybe they would not see me in the starlight.

I had to get as far away from the trapdoor as I could. Unfastening the rope with numb fingers, I straddled the peak and began to crawl along it, arms and legs widespread. Dragging myself really, sliding on the ice. Knowing that if I slipped to one side or the other that would be the end.

The end. That’s what the roof did. Stopped. When I looked over my shoulder I saw that the trapdoor was clearly visible. As I would be to anyone putting his head out.

The line had held me before; it was going to have to do it again. Carefully and slowly, so I wouldn’t lose my balance, I worked the power tool out and fitted one of the nails into the jaws. I would have to take the risk that the thick roof would muffle the sound. One touch on the trigger drove the nail in, through the metal, at the peak of the roof at the very end. My fingers were cold—and clumsy in the gloves—as I worked desperately to tie a knot on the line, to slip it over the nail, to tie a loop further down. To fit my foot into it and to let myself slide carefully over the edge. To hang down the end of the building. To ignore the creaking as the nail took up the strain.

There was a loud bang further back on the roof as the trapdoor was thrown open. I hung quietly, listening, smiling at my success as I heard the searchers talking clearly.

“See anything, Bukai?”

“No.”

“Anyone on the roof?”

“No. Shall I come back inside?”

Well done, diGriz. The enemy outwitted again, you clever devil.

“No. Walk along the roof and look.”

They were machines, not men. Any intelligent man would not have ventured out on that icy roof. He would have known better.

Any intelligent man would not have found me. These machine-minded morons just followed instructions until they succeeded.

The slitherings and gruntings grew closer and closer—and my rope twitched as someone pulled at it.

I looked up into the expressionless features of the searcher as he leaned over the end of the roof.

FIFTEEN

This was it. My eyes were adjusted to the starlight so that I saw his head jerk when he spotted me. Saw him sit up and turn his head about and open his mouth to sbout.

“Ahiru.”

Then he slipped. And for the first time I saw expression on the face of a gray man. Horror. He grabbed for the nail holding the rope. And missed.

His fingers slapped hard on the roof. Then he slid away. Faster and faster. I could hear the sound of his sliding, but he made no other sound. Nothing. Then he was gone and I covered my ears because I did not want to listen to what happened below.

What next? The chill seeped into my bones as I hung there in the night and waited. There were muffled voices inside the building. I couldn’t make out the words, then someone else joined the other man in the open trapdoor.

“Did Bukai say anything?”

“He spoke my name.”

“As he slipped and fell?”

“Yes.”

“That is not good.”

“It is not. He is better dead. A man who shows emotion like that.” Then the trapdoor closed.

What nice people. Bukai sure had friends. I suppose I felt sorrier for him than they did. Moral Philosophy! Before my fingers froze completely I pulled myself back up the rope and took a careful look. Trapdoor closed, roof empty. Back onto the peak and a slow and careful slither back. This was no time to Shp and join the much-mourned Bukai.

After that I waited a long and frigid ten minutes, counting the seconds, until I was sure the room below would be empty. Or hoped it would be. ‘Me chill of the cold metal was biting through my insulated suit before I let myself pull at the door. My teeth chattering so hard I was sure they could bear them on the ground below. The room below was dark; they were gone.

There is a limit to the amount of stress a body can take and mine must have felt that it had had more than enough for the night. So when I rested on the floor for a bit while I thought about what to do next I instantly fell soundly asleep. So soundly that when I woke up, an unmeasurable amount of time later, I bad no idea how long I had been sleeping. A minute or a day; there was no way to tell. What if everyone was awake? I would be trapped in here until nightfall. But how long were the days? I muttered curses at myself for falling asleep as I picked the lock as silently as I could. Opening the door with slow patience. The hall was empty. And the window across from the door was still black with night.

“Lucked out again, diGriz. Or maybe your subconscious timer is doing a better job than your conscious mind. Back to work.”

The sleep had refreshed me and I tiptoed through the building, senses alert. All the doors were closed and I assumed that students and staff were sleeping off the strenuous affairs of the day. There was a light on in the headmaster’s office so I put my eye to the crack as I opened it. He was sitting in the chair, awake, waiting for me. I slid through and closed it behind me.

“It is you,” he said, and I saw that he had a glass of water raised to his lips. He set it down carefully on the desk.

“If that’s water I’ll have some,” I said, reaching for it. “It has been a thirsty night.”

“It is poison,” he said tonelessly as I picked it up. I put it right back down.

“Suicide?”

“Yes. If I had to. I had no idea who would walk through the door first.”

“Then they’re all gone?”

“Yes. They found nothing. One of them fell off the roof and was killed. Are you responsible for that?”

“Only indirectly. But I saw him fall.”

“They assume now that you have frozen to death in the snow. In the morning they will search for your body. It will not be a very stringent search because there is also some thought that you may have gone into the ocean.”

“I almost did. But now that this evening’s exhausting adventures are over I think we ought to go back to the topic under discussion when all the fun began.”

“Getting a message to the League.”

“That’s it. In the quieter moments tonight I have been giving it some thought. I have an idea that might just work. Are you tired?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good. Then I want to work in the electronics lab tonight. Can I do that—undisturbed?”

“It can be arranged. What do you want to do?”

“Dial up the library and get a diagram for a warpdrive detector. I assume you have enough parts and supplies here for me to build one?”

“We have the unit itself in our supplies. It is part of the training.”

“Even better. Let’s get to the lab and get started and I will show you what I want to do.”

With Hanasu doing the fetching and me doing the assembly my device soon took shape. When it was completed I stood it on the bench and stepped back to admire it. A metal tube a meter long, streamlined on the top, open at the bottom, with two metal vanes running the length of it.

“A work of art,” I said.

“What is its function?” Hanasu asked, a realist to the end.

“It gets attached to one of your spacers—and that will be our next problem. If I place it carefully it will never be noticed because it is a duplicate of the standard flare ejector that all ships carry. Only this one doesn’t have flares—it has these.” I held out one of the carefully constructed cylinders of plastic. “Inside the plastic is a power source and a solid state radio transmitter. I have made ten of these radios, which should be enough. Here is what happens. Every time the ship enters normal space its warpdrive will cut off. When this happens the receiver in the nose detects the fact—and it launches one of the radios. There is a built-in time lag of a half an hour. More than enough time for the spacer to get on its way again. Then the radio switches on and begins broadcasting a strong signal on the League emergency wavelength. The signal contains my code identification and the location of this planet. And a call for help. Once the message gets through we simply sit back and wait for the space cavalry to arrive.”

“Very ingenious. But what if there is no receiver nearby when the ship emerges from warpdrive?”

“I thought you might ask that. We’re playing the law of averages. Most pilots use major navigation points most of the time. And most of these stars have a League station nearby. And most voyages make at least three downspace checks. One of the radio messages will have to be received.”

“Hopefully. But it is better than nothing. Suicide is still possible.”

“That’s right. Always always look on the sunny side.”

“How will you affix it to the spacer?”

“With an atomic welder.” I held up my hand as he started to speak. “I know, no more funnies. That was a joke, chuckle-chuckle. I must find a way to get near one of the spacers unseen. It won’t take more than a few minutes to do the job. Is the spacefield guarded?”

“There is a chainlink fence around it as you must know, And some guards at the gate. That is all I remember.”

“Should be easy to get by that setup. Then I’ll need your help with two things. I want to know when the next ship is leaving. And I’ll need transportation to the spaceport.”

“The information will be easy to supply. The earlier bulletin announced that the Takai Cha is going at 0645 hours today...”

“What time is it now?”

Hanasu blinked farsightedly at his watch and finally made out the numbers. “O-three-one-one,” he said.

“Can you get transportation? Get me there in time?”

He had to think about this for a while before reluctantly nodding. “Normally, no. I have no reason to take the car out. But tonight I could report that I am volunteering for the search. They will probably say yes.”

“We can only try.”

The ploy worked. Within ten minutes we were bouncing over the iron-hard snow in an electrically powered, ski-mounted, propeller driven bone-breaker of an unsprung vehicle. No luxuries here. The heater was nonexistent, as were cushions on the seats. These people carried the hairshirt business entirely too far. My newly built radioejector was fitted with a strap so I could sling it over my shoulder. All the tools I might need were in a bag beside it. I looked out at the snowflakes whipping through the beams of the headlight and tried to plan ahead.

“How close can you get me to the fence?” I asked.

“As close as you like. There are no roads or marked tracks as you can see. The radio direction finder is followed from point to point.”

“That’s good news. Here is the plan. You drop me off at the fence and keep going. But mark the spot. Come back in exactly one hour. If you see any excitement or hear any alarms on the radio stay away.”

“That is good. There will be enough time then for me to get back to the school and take the poison.”

“Have it instead of breakfast, right. But don’t do anything until you are sure they have me. There may be trouble, but they will not have an easy time grabbing hold of me.”

“You have skied before?”

“I’m a champion.”

It was a piece of cake. Twice we saw the lights of other cars, but they kept their distance. There was a good deal of rushing about this night. Then we were among dark buildings, bouncing over the ruts and doing suicide slides around corners. Hanasu was a real cold-nerved hotrod driver. The fence appeared and we paralleled it. The lights of a gate were visible ahead, then suddenly blotted out by a swirl of snow.

“I bail out here,” I shouted. “Look at your watch and keep moving.”

I threw my gear out into the snow and dived after it. The car was moving even before I landed, the blast from the propeller enveloping me in a sudden blizzard. It was dark, cold, miserable—and perfect cover. I took a detector from the tool bag and cautiously approached the fence.

There was absolutely nothing to it. I could have neutralized the simple alarm and cut my way through that fence with one eye closed, standing on one leg with my right hand behind my back. In fact, since I have always felt that a little bit of the old personal braggadocio goes no harm, I closed my eye, stood on one leg, grabbed the back of my neck with my hand—and did the job that way. Only when the links had been cut did I use both hands, holding the opening wide with one and pushing my oddments through with the other. Then it was the work of a moment to close the links with the molecular welder, put on the skis and slide off into the darkness. Behind me my tracks were already filling in. The first part of the job was done.

There was no problem in finding the spacer. In the darkness of the spaceport the ship was lit up brighter than day. I slithered toward it, staying close to the darkened buildings until I was behind the last one and looking out across the pad.

What a lovely sight. Lights burned brightly on towers, hissing when the snow blew against them. Men and vehicles scurried about servicing the tall spire of the ship. And there, prominent on the tailfin, was the name Takai Cha. This was the ship; it would be leaving soon just as planned.

Only bow was I ever going to get close enough to fix my gadget into place?

SIXTEEN

That was a problem that obviously had but one solution. I was not going to get near the ship dressed as I was. But I could go there and work on the hull unremarked if I looked like one of the servicemen. So—I had to put the grab on one of the servicemen.

It was easy enough to find a dark comer behind some bins to stow my gear. But the kidnapping proved a good deal harder. I prowled around the fringes of the lit area like a wolf around a campfire, but with little result. No one left, no one arrived. The laborers labored on with Kekkonshikian plod, slowly and carefully with no display of emotion. I was displaying enough for all of them. Hanasu’s watch tripped through the seconds and minutes—and then the hour. I had missed my appointment. What was worse I had not done the job I had come for. In less than an hour more the spacer would be taking off and there was still no way of getting near it.

My patience was gone, I was frothing slightly, and thinking up and rejecting one suicidal plan after another, when one of the servicemen decided to leave. He climbed down from the service gantry and walked slowly through the accumulated snow toward one of the buildings. I had to zip around the back, slither on my belly past some lit windows, then dash to the front again. It worked because I was just in time to see him enter a door marked “Benjo” in large letters. I whisked in right behind him and saw what a benjo was.

Being a respecter of certain rights I restrained myself and let him finish his communion with the gods of the watercloset before I decked him. This also made sure that his fingers were busy with zips and buttons. He never knew what hit him. I knew, it was the edge of my hand. After that it was off with his coveralls, zip-zip with the wire on ankles and wrists, another bit around his head to hold the gag into place, then back into the john. I wired him to the plumbing and locked him into the cubicle. I could have left him out in the snow to freeze to death, but this went very much against my own moral philosophy that I bad been preaching to Hanasu. I also happened to believe in it. All would go well as long as he wasn’t discovered until after the spacer took off. Which would not be long now.

His coveralls were a tight fit but I doubted if anyone would notice the difference. His safety helmet covered my head and, with the collar turned up, very little of me was visible. Now for the final step.

I felt very conspicuous marching out under the lights with the tube under one arm, the tool bag slung casually in the other. And I had to walk slow, slog along when I wanted to run. This was hard to do, but my only safety lay in looking normal. Slow and steady. No one looked up, no one seemed to care about anything except his own work. I still sighed deeply when I reached the cab of the mobile gantry and threw in my things. The controls were simple enough. Slowly and carefully I drove around the base of the ship, out of sight of any of the servicemen for the moment. But there might be men watching whom I could not see in the darkness so I still moved at the sluggish pace of the others. Onto the gantry with my equipment, then slowly up beside the fin to the top, the standard location of the flare ejector.

Of course there wasn’t one there. This made little difference since I was now taking the place of one of the only people who might spot my addition. It had to go on and on it went. The molecular welder hummed happily and the metal of the holddown fins was joined irrevocably to the metal of the bull. It would not be visible from the ground in the still driving snow.

“Do the job, baby,” I said, patting it affectionately. Then back down and a quick vanishing act.

This time I didn’t risk the walk but drove the gantry away instead, parking it in the shadow of the nearest building. Ten minutes to go. A car rolled out with the crew who stamped stolidly aboard. The other cranes and platforms were pulling away as well and it was getting very close to takeoff time.

“Why is that gantry here?” a voice behind me asked.

“Remstma?” I said in a muffled voice, not turning my head. Footsteps approached.

“I can’t hear you. Repeat.”

“Can you hear this?” I said as he got close, whipping about and getting both hands around his neck. His eyes popped, then closed as I banged his skull against the metal frame of the door. With the fate of worlds hanging in the balance I was not gentle. While I was tying him up the spacer took off. It was perhaps the nicest sound I had ever heard.

“You’ve done it, Jim, done it again,” I congratulated myself since there was no one around to do it for me. “Countless generations yet unborn will bless your name. Countless Kekkonshikians will curse it daily, which is just too bad. The evil era of the gray men is drawing to a close.”

There was a dark doorway nearby into which I dragged the latest unconscious body. As I dropped him, not too gently, inside the archway I saw that there was a very large and complex lock on the door. Why? The sign next to it revealed the reason—and at the same moment gave me the idea about what I had to do next.

Armory—authorized personnel only. Locked and forbidding-and what a perfect place to hide out. But only after a little misdirection. Easily enough done. I found, my skis, put them on, then slid close to the lighted pad and waited for someone to see me.

These were the dullest and most unobservant people I had ever met. I slithered back and forth for five minutes without being spotted. It was really getting very boring and I was tired as well. In the end I swooped within ten meters of two of them and actually bad run into some metal drums before they noticed me. When they looked up I put my arm over my face, hunched over, shivered, stumbled, then shot away into the darkness. All that was missing was a white arrow pointing at my back. They didn’t react, of course, but I at least hoped they would remember me and the direction I bad gone. Which was straight back to the fence. This time I made a big enough hole to drive a tank through, and left it open as well. Picking up speed I slid off into the darkness, beading for the wide open spaces, leaving a clear trail. Using my light at the same time to see if I could find a way to confuse it. The opportunity came soon enough. A car was grinding along, almost paralleling my own course, so I slanted over to join it. The thing was much faster than I was and was well past when I slid into its tracks. But I didn’t go too far this way, just far enough to show our tracks merging and cutting back and forth across each other’s.

When this had been well established I planted my poles and did a reverse turn that would have had my instructors glowing with pride. Up, over and down into the track of the other car ski. Landing cleanly in its track. Then sliding off in the opposite direction, no poles to leave marks, just kicking along well past the point where our tracks had merged.

After this I just kept on until the snow was covering the cars’ tracks. It would cover mine too—and probably the earlier tracks. But if they did follow and see them they would have a false lead. Me, I was heading back to the city and safety.

They weren’t early risers on Kekkonshiki, I’ll say that much for them. A few were out, I saw other figures slipping by on skis, but I don’t think any of them saw me. Nor did there seem to be any alarm. I reached the edge of the buildings on the far side of the spaceport and there still didn’t seem to be anything busy happening. What next? I didn’t want to break back in until the chase had gone out the other side. There seemed to be no sign that this was happening as yet. A light in a window beckoned warmly and I slipped over and looked in. A kitchen. Stoves merrily aglow and the cook getting things ready. It looked too good to resist. It was even harder to resist when the round-bottomed and apparently epicene cook turned toward the window and proved to be a female of the species. I had not talked to a female Kekkonshiki yet and the opportunity was too good to resist. Angelina was always accusing me of going after other girls and I should at least give her some sound basis for her suspicions. Even though this visit would negate all of my efforts in false-trail laying and necessitate another effort at misdirection—I still could not resist the temptation. Thus has it been ever with man and maid down through the ages. I found the door, took off my skis, stood them in the snow next to it, and went in.

“Good morning,” I said. “Looks like another cold day, doesn’t it.”

She turned to look at me in silence. Young, wide-eyed and not too unattractive in an unpainted, pastoral sort of way.

“You are the one they are looking for,” she said, with just a hint of emotion creeping into her voice. “I must go and give the alarm.”

“You will not give the alarm.” I leaned forward, ready to stop her.

“Yes, master,” she said, and turned back to her pots and pans.

Master! I mulled this a bit and realized that the Kekkonshiki must be the Male Chauvinist Pigs of all time. They treated each other with coldness, lack of emotion, conscious and unconscious cruelty. How must they treat the women! Like this. As chattels, slaves probably. If any of them had protested in the past they had probably been booted out into the snow. A race of docile servants is what the men must have wanted and, obviously, after centuries of breeding they had achieved this noble goal.

My mind was torn away from philosophical speculation by the rich smells from the pots on the stove. It had been far too long since I had eaten last and, after all the exercise, I realized that hunger was nibbling at my interior with sharp teeth. In the rush of events I had again forgotten about food. Now my stomach was making up for this neglect with warning rumbles and groaning sounds.

“What’s cooking, my fair flower of Kekkonshiki?”

She kept her eyes lowered and pointed out cooking utensils one by one, slowly and carefully. “In here is boiling water. In here is fish stew. In here are fish dumplings. In here is seaweed sauce. In here...”

“That’s fine. I’ve heard enough. I’ll have a portion of each, except for the boiling water that is.”

She ladled some metal bowls full and I tucked in with a curved bone spoon. It was pretty tasteless stuff but I was not complaining. I even managed to eat the entire amount a second time before slowing down. As I slurped and shoveled I watched her closely, but she made no attempt to escape or give a warning.

“My name is Jim,” I said, burping with appreciation. “What’s yours?”

“Kaeru.”

“Fine meal, Kaeru. A little bit light on the seasoning, but that’s not your fault—it’s the cuisine of the land. Are you happy in this job?”

“I do not know that word, ‘happy.”’

“I’ll bet you don’t. What kind of hours do you work here?”

“I do not understand what you mean. I get up, I work, I go to bed. All days are like this.”

“No weekends or holidays either I am sure. This world dearly needs some changes and they are on the way.” Kaeru. turned back to her work. “This culture won’t have to be busted. It will just fall apart. The historians will keep a record of it and then it will vanish and a touch of civilization will enter your lives. Look forward to a happy tomorrow, Kaeru.”

“Tomorrow I will work like today.”

“Not for too long, I hope.” With a delicate pinky nail I probed for a bit of seaweed stuck in the interstices of my teeth. “What time do you serve breakfast?”

She looked up at the clock. “In a few minutes when the bell rings.”

“Who eats it?”

“The men here. The soldiers.”

I was off the chair before the last syllable dropped from her lips, pulling on my gloves. “The food has been great, but I’m afraid I have to be pushing on. Heading south, you know. Got to make some time before the sun comes up. I suppose you wouldn’t complain too much if I tied you up?”

“Do with me what you will, master.” Her eyes were lowered when she said it. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of being a male chauvinist pig. “It will be better someday soon, Kaeru, I promise you that. And if I ever get out of this with a whole skin I’ll send you a relief parcel. Some dresses, lipstick, and a textbook on fern lib. Now—is there a storeroom here?”

She pointed it out and I kissed her on the forehead. She immediately started to take her clothes off and was surprised when I stopped her. I could readily imagine what romantic lovers the gray men were! One more crime to answer for. Kaeru made no protests at all when I ushered her into the storeroom and locked it from the outside. She would be discovered soon enough when breakfast was late. But all I needed was a few minutes’ headstart.

After leaving I carried the skis until I came to an icy stretch where my prints did not show. Only then did I put them on and head off in the opposite direction, muddling my trail again when I crossed other ski tracks. There was a good deal more of this sort of thing before I found myself back at the spaceport and, once more, cutting my way through the fence. I could bear sounds of distant excitement, sirens going and engines starting up which seemed to indicate that my earlier visit had been discovered at last. And about time too; I had to stifle a yawn. And wasn’t the sky beginning to get a bit lighter? The hour had come to retire. I resealed the fence and slogged on.

With very little effort I reached the armory unseen. The man I had left in the doorway was gone, as well as everyone else from the vicinity. The lock yielded to my attentions and I breezed through and sealed it behind me. Well done, Jim, you tricky devil. With leaden feet I toured the interior, finally finding a locked room of fragmentation grenades that should be untouched for a while. In and down behind them, hidden from the world, secure and gone to ground, I yielded at once to the lure of sleep.

It was wonderful. I felt that I could have slept forever. Except something was disturbing me. I swam back up to consciousness and saw that it was daylight. Was that what had woken me?

No, it was a key turning in the lock, the door creaking open.

I had only myself to blame. I had forgotten the plodding searchers in the school. These people could not be tricked by any kind of ruse. As soon as they knew I was still alive they simply started a search of every building in the city. The game was up.

SEVENTEEN

I was refreshed by the long sleep, my bloodstream was filled with rich fish protein—and I was very angry at myself for not making a better attempt at biding out. But, like the rest of us, I would rather be angry at someone else rather than admit the fault was mine, so I instantly transferred my temper to the hapless man who came through the door, waiting until he came close, then springing upon him like a jungle animal. Then tripping over the skis which I had forgotten about and falling in a tumble at his feet. Not that this made much difference to the outcome since these people had no idea at all about infighting. It was the old twist and crunch once again. After which I shouldered the skis, stepped over the unconscious body, and peeked out of the door. More of them were searching the building, on all sides of me, as I plodded toward the exit. One of them glanced up and I actually did three paces more before he reacted.

“He is there, trying to escape,” he said in a dull monotone.

“Doing it too!” I shouted and rushed through the door, right over the man coming in. Then it was just a matter of stepping into the skis and zipping away.

Of course this did no good at all, other than put off the inevitable for a few more minutes. The fence had been repaired, the entrances were guarded—and my tool kit was back in the armory. As I rushed around, wondering what to do next, I heard the car engines starting up. Grab one of them? Rush the gate. Then what? One man against an entire world wasn’t going to do me much good on this planet. Maybe I could find another hiding place in the city.

Why? I couldn’t escape these people. Why put off the inevitable? I stopped to think about this, then remembered what they could do with the axion feed and I started up again. Maybe Hanasu was right and suicide was the only answer. But I rejected this out of hand; I’m just not the suicide type, as I keep telling myself.

All of this kept me occupied. Rushing about the spaceport with the pursuit hotting up behind me, having a good suffer over my approaching fate, racking my depressed mind for a way out. With my attention wandering like this I wasn’t aware of the sound of the rocket until it was right overhead. Like everyone else on the field I stopped and looked up and gaped.

Out of the low cloud it dropped, riding its flame to the ground, a small scout ship.

With the joined rings of the League upon its flank.

“It worked!” I shrieked and went straight up in the air. I landed on the move and made wow-wow sounds with my hand over my mouth as I streaked for the landing pad. The spacer was still bounding on its landing shocks when I came rocketing up. Needless to say no one followed me since the locals were not as enthusiastic about this arrival as I was. When the hatch ground open I stood below it.

“Welcome to Kekkonshiki,” I said to the man who emerged, squinting in the reflected glare. “Claim this planet for the League, oh conqueror.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he said. A young man with an awful lot of hair and beard, wearing a soiled and patched shipsuit. “I got a message to pick up one James Bolivar diGriz.”

“You are looking at him.”

“So are the locals. Only they are coming this way with a lot of guns. Get aboard.”

“Not until I make it plain to these types just what has happened.”

I was happy to see a familiar face in front of the pack. Kome, the commander and captain of the ship who bad brought me here. “Drop the gun,” I told him. He raised it instead.

“You will come with me. Both of you.”

I saw red. These people were so dense it sickened me. What they had done, the untold number dead because of their infernal plans, sickened me even more.

“Don’t shoot, I beg of you!” I cried, hands in the air,. stumbling toward him. Kicking up hard on his wrist so the gun went flying. I caught it, grabbed his arm, twisted him around and ground the gun into the side of his neck as hard as I could.

“Listen to me, you ice-cold idiots!” I shouted. “It’s all over, finished, through. You have lost. You will cause no more trouble in the galaxy. Your only strength was secrecy, so you could work away like roaches inside the wall. But that’s over now. Don’t you see the insignia on this ship? It’s a League ship. They know about you now. Know who you are and where you are. Justice has arrived in the shape of this handsome pilot who brings you his message of wrath and who announces that he has just conquered your planet.”

“Have I?” the pilot gasped.

“Shut up, you dumbhead, and do your job.”

“My job was to get you.”

“You’ve been Promoted. Take their guns.”

There was a little edge of desperation in my voice because they were raising their guns. Knowing their attitudes I knew they would calmly shoot Kome in order to get me. I gave his arm an extra twist and pressed the muzzle of the gun deeper into his flesh.

“Come on, Kome, tell them to put their weapons away and surrender. If one shot is fired I’ll see that you are all tortured to death with hot pokers.”

Kome thought and thought in his plodding Kekkonshiki way. Then made his mind up.

“The presence of this ship might be an accident.”

“No accident,” the pilot said. “I’ll show you the message I received. It went out with a general alarm ordering all ships in the area to this planet. We’ve been looking for you people for some time. I’ll get the message.”

“There is no need for the message. Kill them both,” Kome ordered loudly. “If they lie it will be the end of them. If they do not lie it will make no difference for we are as dead.”

“Move aside, Kome,” the nearest man said, sighting his gun. “Or I must shoot you.”

“Shoot me” was the toneless answer.

“Stop it!” I ordered, shooting the man in the arm so his gun went flying. “It’s no use.”

They thought otherwise. The guns were swinging about when the pilot delivered the message he had been talking about. Not the one they had been expecting. He wasn’t too stupid; scout pilots rarely are.

The nose turret whipped about swiftly and explosive shells rained down on all sides. I wasted no time, rapping Kome on the skull with the gun so he would come along quietly, then adding a few shots of my own at the others to keep their heads down. Into the airlock and finger on closing button. Kome wasn’t quite unconscious but a kick in the side of the head fixed that. Normally I am not vicious, but this time I enjoyed the sadistic pleasure.

“Get flat, this will be a 5G takeoff,” the pilot said.

It was too, and I clunked the last centimeters to the deck and got a good slam on the back of my head. By the time I stopped seeing unusual colors the pressure eased and I floated up.

“Thanks,” I said with all sincerity.

“A pleasure. Those were some nasty-looking friends you had down there.”

“Those were the loonies who started this whole war. And, dare I ask, how is it going?”

“We’re still losing it,” he said with black gloom. “There is just nothing we can do.”

“Don’t say that, it’s bad luck! And bead for the nearest station with a psiman because I have some urgent business to transact. You wouldn’t happen to know if a load of prisoners escaped from the aliens?”

“The admirals, you mean? They’re back, and a sorry lot they are too. I mean, normally you don’t care what happens to senior officers, like they’re different life forms or something. But this was a not-too-nice thing.”

“They’ll be cured. Excuse me smiling but my wife and sons were responsible for that escape so it means they are safe.”

“You got some family.”

“You can say that again!”

“You got some family.”

“Don’t take me too literally, though I enjoy bearing it. Now will you please pour the juice to this thing and get us to the psiman. There is much to be done.”

By the time we rocketed into the satellite station I had my messages all written. Something big with a lot of guns and a full complement of troopers would be spared from the war to bring civilization to the Kekkonshiki natives. There were exact instructions on how they were to find Hanasu and put him in charge of the pacification. Justice, revenge and everything else could come later. Right now it was important just to neutralize the gray men to guard our flank. The war still bad to be won. I read all the reports in the ship and by the time I had reached the Special Corps Main Base I had a number of plans made. All of them were driven from my mind by the sight of the svelte figure of the woman I loved.

“Air ...” I gasped after a number of minutes of close and passionate embrace. “It’s nice to be home.”

“There’s more in store, but I assume you want to look after the war a bit first.”

“If you don’t mind, precious mine. Did you have any trouble admiral-saving?”

“None. You had everything in a lovely turmoil. The boys learn fast and are very good at this sort of job. They are also off now in the navy, doing important things. I worried about you.”

“You had very good reason to—but it’s all over now. You didn’t, by chance, happen to pick up any souvenirs when you were passing through that alien treasury.

“I left that to the twins, who take after their father. I’m sure they pinched a good bit for themselves, but what they passed on will make us independently wealthy for life. If we live.”

“The war, of course.” My elation turned to depression at the thought. “What is happening?”

“Nothing good. As you observed the aliens on their own are a little on the stupid side. Once the gray men were out of the picture leadership must have been divided. But there still must have been a few commanders left who were bright enough to come in out of the rain because they launched an all-out attack. Left their base completely. Just took everything they had and came after us. So we ran, and are still running. Just picking away at their fringes to let them think we will stand and fight. But we can’t afford to. They outnumber us and outgun us at least a thousand to one.”

“How long can this last?”

“Not much longer, I’m afraid. We’re almost past all of our inhabited planets and will be coming out soon in intergalactic space. After that we can retreat no more. Or if we do the uglies will see what we are doing and even they are smart enough to figure this one out. All they have to do then is leave a small force to keep us at bay, then they can turn and start attacking our planetary bases.”

“You don’t make it sound too good.”

“It isn’t.”

“Do not worry, my sweet.” I clutched her and kissed her a bit more. “But your own little Slippery Jim will save the galaxy.”

“Again. That’s nice.”

“I was ordered to come here,” a familiar voice said. “Just to see you kissing and hugging? Don’t you know there is a war on? I’m a busy man.”

“Not as busy as you are going to be soon, Professor Coypu.”

“What do you mean?” He shouted angrily and clashed his protruding molars in my direction.

“I mean you are about to make the weapon that will save us all and your name will ring down through the history books forever. Coypu, Galaxy Savior.”

“You’re mad.”

“Don’t you think you’re the first one to ever say that. All geniuses are called mad. Or worse. I read a report highly secret that you now believe in parallel universes ...”

“Silence, you fool! No one was to know. Specially you!”

“An accident, really. A safe just happened to fall open when I was passing and the report dropped out. Is it true?”

“True, true,” he muttered tapping his fingernails on his teeth unhappily. “I had the clue from your escapade with the time helix when you were trapped in a loop of time in a bit of past history that did not exist.”

“It existed for me.”

“Of course. Just what I said. Therefore, if one possible different past could exist, then an infinity of different pasts—and presents—must exist. That’s logical.”

“It certainly is,” I cheered. “So you experimented.”

“I did. I have gained access to parallel universes, made observations and notes. But how does this save the galaxy?”

“One more question first, if you please. Is it possible to pass through into these other universes?”

“Of course. How else could I have made my observations? I sent a small machine through to make readings, take photographs.”

“How big a machine can you send through?”

“It depends on the power of the field.”

“Fine. Then that is the answer.”

“It may be an answer to you, Slippery Jim,” Angelina said with some puzzlement, “but it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“Ahh, but just think, lover mine, what can be done with a machine like that. You mount it on a battleship with plenty of power. The battleship joins our space fleet and the fighting begins with the enemy. Our forces flee, the battleship limps behind, the enemy rushes up, the field is turned on—“

“And every one of those awful creepy-crawlies and all of their guns and things zip right through into another universe and the menace is over forever!”

“I was thinking of something roughly like that,” I said modestly, polishing my fingernails on my chest. “Can we do it, Coypu?”

“It is possible, possible...”

“Then let us get to your lab and look at the gadget and see if the possible can be turned into the tangible.”

Coypu’s newest invention did not look like very much at all. Just a lot of boxes, wires and assorted gadgetry spread all over the room. But he was proud of it.

“Still in rough shape, as you can see,” he said. “Breadboarded components. I call it my parallelilizer...”

“I would hate to say that three times fast.”

“Don’t joke, diGriz! This invention will change the fate of the known universe and at least one unknown one.”

“Don’t be so touchy,” I said soothingly. “Your genius will not go unmarked, Prof. Now, would you be so kind as to demonstrate how your parallelilizer works.”

Coypu sniffed and muttered to himself while he made adjustments on the machine, threw switches and tapped dials. The usual thing. While he was busy I was busy too giving Angelina a quick hug and she hugged right back. The professor, wrapped up in his work, never noticed that we were wrapped up in ours. He lectured away while we snogged.

“Precision, that is the important thing. The various parallel universes are separated only by the probability factor which is very thin, as you can well imagine. To pick just one probability out of all the countless possible ones is the trickiest part of the operation. Of course the probabilities that vary the least from ours are the closest, while completely changed probability universes are the most distant and require the most power. So for this demonstration I will take the nearest one and open the portal to it, so!”

A last switch was thrown and the lights dimmed as the machine sucked in all the available power. On all sides machines hummed and sparkled and the sharp smell of ozone filled the air. I let go of Angelina and looked around carefully.

“You know, Professor,” I said. “As far as I can see absolutely nothing has happened.”

“You are a cretin! Look, there, through the field generator.”

I looked at the big metal frame that was wrapped with copper wire and glowing warmly. I could still see nothing and I told Coypu so. He screeched in anger and tried to pull out some of his hair, failing in this since he was almost bald.

“Look through the field and you see the parallel universe on the other side.”

“All I can see is the lab.”

“Moron. That is not this laboratory, but the one on the other world. It exists there just as it does here.”

“Wonderful,” I said, smiling, not wanting to offend the old boy. Though I really thought he was crackers. “You mean if I wanted to I could just step through the screen and be in the other world?”

“Possibly. But you might also be dead. So far I have not attempted to pass living matter through the screen.”

“Isn’t it time you tried?” Angelina asked, clutching my arm. “Only with some living matter other than my husband.”

Still muttering, Coypu exited and returned with a white mouse. Then he put the mouse in a clamp, fixed the clamp to a rod, then slowly pushed the mouse through the screen. Absolutely nothing appeared to happen other than that the wriggling mouse managed to squirm out of the clamp and drop to the floor. It scuttled aside and vanished.

“Where did it go?” I asked, blinking rapidly.

“It is in the parallel world, as I explained.”

“The poor thing looked frightened,” Angelina said. “But it didn’t appear to be hurt in any way.”

“Tests will have to be made,” Coypu said. “More mice, microscopic examinations of tissue, spectroscopic determination of factors ...”

“Normally yes, Prof,” I said. “But this is war and we just don’t have the time. There is one real time saver that will enable us to find out right now—“

“No!” Angelina called out, being faster on the uptake than the professor. But she said it too late.

Because even as she called out I was stepping through the screen.

EIGHTEEN

The only sensation I felt was sort of a mild tingle, though even this might have just been a product of my fevered imagination since I was expecting to feel something. I looked around and everything looked very much the same to me—though of course all of the parallelizer equipment was missing.

“Jim diGriz, You come back at once—or I’ll come after you,” Angelina said.

“In just a moment. This is a momentous instant in the history of science and I want to experience it fully.”

It was disconcerting to look back through the screen and find that the view of the other lab—as well as Angelina and the professor—vanished when I walked off to one side. From the front the field itself was invisible, though when I walked around behind it it was clearly visible as a black surface apparently floating in space. Out of the comer of my eye I saw something move; the mouse scuttling behind a cabinet. I hoped that he liked it here. Before returning I felt I had to mark the important moment some way. So I took out my stylus and wrote SLIPPERY JIM WAS HERE on the wall. Let them make of that what they will. At that moment the door started to open and I instantly nipped back through the screen. I had no desire to meet whoever was coming in. It might even be a parallel-world duplicate of me, which would be very disconcerting.

“Very interesting,” I said. Angelina bugged me and Coypu turned off his machine. “How big can you make the screen?” I asked.

“There is no physical or theoretical limit on its size since it doesn’t exist. Now I am using metal coils to contain the field, but they are dispensable in theory. Once I am able to project the field without material containment it will be big enough to send the entire alien fleet through.”

“My thought exactly, Professor. So, back to your drawing board and get cracking. Meanwhile I’ll break the news to our masters.”

Calling together all of the chiefs of staff was not easy since they were deeply involved in running the war, if not in winning it. In the end I had to work through Inskipp who used the powers of the Special Corps to call the meeting. Since they were using this base as headquarters for defense they found it hard to ignore the call of their landlord. I was waiting when they arrived, crisp and shining in a new uniform, a number of real medals, and a few fakes, pinned to my chest. They grumbled to each other, lit large cigars and scowled in my direction. As soon as they were all seated I rapped for attention.

“Gentlemen, at the present time we are losing the war.”

“We didn’t have to come here to have you tell us that,” Inskipp snarled. “What’s up, diGriz?”

“I brought you here to tell you that the end of the war is now in sight. We win.”

That caught their notice, all right. Every grizzled head was now leaning in my direction, every yellowed or drooping eye fixed upon me.

“This will be accomplished through the use of a new device called the parallelilizer. With its aid the enemy fleet will fly into a parallel universe and we will never see them again.”

“What is this madman talking about?” an admiral grumbled.

“I am talking about a concept so novel that even my imaginative mind has difficulty grasping it, and I expect that your fossilized ones can’t understand it at all. But try.” A deep growl ran through the room with that, but at least I bad their attention now. “The theory goes like this. We can time travel to the past, but we cannot change the past. Since we obviously make changes by going into the past, those changes are already part of the past of the present we are living in.” A number of eyes turned glassy at this but I pressed on. “However if major changes are made in the past we end up with a different past for a different present. One we don’t know about since we are not living in it, but one that is real for the people who do exist there. These alternate time lines, or parallel universes, were inaccessible until the invention of the parallelilizer by our Corps genius, Professor Coypu. This device enables us to step into other parallel universes, or to fly in or get there in a number of interesting ways. The most interesting will be the generation of a screen big enough for the entire alien fleet to fly through so they will never bother us again. Any questions?”

There certainly were, and after a half an hour of detailed explanations I think I had convinced them all that something nasty was going to happen to the aliens and the war would be over, and they certainly approved of that. There were smiles and nods, and even a few muffled cheers. When Inskipp spoke it was obvious that he spoke for them all.

“We can do it! End this terrible war! Send the enemy fleet into another universe!”

“That is perfectly correct,” I said.

“IT IS FORBIDDEN,” a deep voice, a disembodied voice, said. Speaking apparently from the empty air over the table.

It was very impressive and at least one officer clutched at his chest, whether for his heart or some religious tract was not clear. But Inskipp, con man himself, was not conned.

“Who said that? Which one of you is the joker with the ventriloquial projector?”

There were loud cries of innocence and much looking under the furniture. All of which stopped when the voice spoke again.

“It is forbidden because it is immoral. We have spoken.”

“Who have spoken?” Inskipp shouted.

“We are the Morality Corps.”

Ibis time the voice came from the open doorway, not out of the air, and it took an instant to realize this. One by one the heads snapped around and every eye was fixed on the man when he came in. And very impressive he was too. Tall, with long white hair and beard, wearing a floor-length white robe. But it was hard to impress Inskipp.

“You are under arrest,” he said. “Call the guards to take him away. I’ve never even heard of the Morality Corps.”

“Of course not,” the man answered in deep tones. “We are too secret for that.”

“You, secret,” Inskipp sneered. “My Special Corps is so secret that most people think it is just a rumor.”

“I know. That’s not too secret. My Morality Corps is so secret there aren’t even any rumors of its existence.”

Inskipp was turning red and beginning to swell up. I stepped in quickly before he exploded. “That all sounds very interesting, but we will need a little proof, won‘t we?”

“Of course,” he fixed me with a steely gaze. “What is your most secret code?”

“I should tell you?”

“Of course not. I’ll tell you. It is the Vasarnap Cipher, is it not?”

“It might be,” I equivocated.

“It is,” he answered sternly. “Go then to the Top Secret computer terminal there and give it this message in that cipher. The message is ‘Reveal all about the Morality Corps.”’

“I’ll do that,” Inskipp said. “The agent diGriz is not cleared for the Vasarnap Cipher.” That’s how much he knew. But all the eyes were upon him as he went to the computer terminal and rattled the keys. Then he took a cipher wheel from his pocket, plugged it into the terminal and typed in the message. The speaker scratched and the monotone voice of the computer droned out.

“Who makes this request?”

“I, Inskipp, head of the Special Corps.”

“Then I will reveal that the Morality Corps is the top priority secret force in the League. Its orders must be obeyed. The orders will be issued by the Morality Corps top executive. At the present time the top executive is Jay Hovah.”

“I am Jay Hovah,” the newcomer said. “Therefore I repeat. It is forbidden to send the alien invaders into a parallel world.”

“Why?” I asked. “You don’t mind our blowing them up, do you?”

He fixed his stem gaze upon me. “To battle in self-defense is not immoral. This is the defense of one’s home and loved ones.”

“Well if you don’t mind our blowing them up—what is the complaint about slipping them into another world line? That won’t hurt them half as much.”

“It won’t hurt them at all. But you will be sending ravening aliens in a giant battle fleet into a parallel universe where they did not exist before. You will be responsible for their killing all the humans in that universe. That is immoral. A way must be found to eliminate the enemy without making others suffer.”

“You can’t stop us,” one of the admirals shouted in anger.

“I can and I will,” Jay Hovah said. “It says in the Constitution of the League of United Planets that no immoral acts will be indulged in by member planets or by forces operating under the orders of member planets. You will find that a clause is included in the original agreement signed by all planetary representatives that a Morality Corps will be founded to determine what is moral. We are the top authority. We say no. Find yourself another plan.”

While Jay was talking all the little wheels in my head were spinning busily. They stopped finally and the winning numbers came up.

“Stop this bickering,” I said, then had to repeat myself, shouting, before I was heard. “I have come up with the alternative plan.” This quieted them down and even Jay stopped pontificating for a bit to listen. “The Morality Corps protests that it would be an immoral act to shoot all the nasties into a parallel universe where they can work their will upon the human beings there. Is that your argument, Jay?”

“Put rather crudely, but in essence, yes.”

“Then you wouldn’t protest at all if we pushed the enemy into a parallel universe where there were no human beings?”

He opened and shut his mouth a few times at that one, then scowled fiercely. I smiled and lit a cigar. The admirals buzzed, mostly with bafflement since they weren’t too bright or they would have enlisted in the peacetime navy.

“I would like a second opinion,” Jay Hovah finally said.

“By all means, but make it fast.”

He glared at me, but pulled out a gold pendant that hung about his neck and whispered into it. Then listened. And nodded.

“It would not be immoral to send the aliens into a universe where there were no human beings. I have spoken.”

“What is happening?” a bewildered admiral asked.

“It’s very simple,” I told him. “There are millions, billions, probably an infinite number of parallel galaxies. Among this number there must surely be one where Homo sapiens never existed. There might even be a galaxy populated only by aliens where our enemies would be made welcome.”

“You have just volunteered to find the right one,” Inskipp ordered. “Get moving, diGriz, and find us the best place to send that battle fleet.”

“He shall not go alone,” Jay Hovah announced. “We have been watching this agent for a long time since he is the most immoral man in the Special Corps.”

“Very flattering,” I said.

“Therefore we do not take his word for anything. When he looks for the correct parallel galaxy one of our agents will accompany him.”

“That’s just fine,” I told him. “But please don’t forget that there is a war on and I don’t want one of your leaden-footed, psalm-singing moralists hanging around my neck.” Jay was whispering instructions into his communicator. “This is a military operation and I move fast. . .”

I shut up when she walked in the door. From Jay’s outfit, if the long robe meant anything, but it was filled quite differently from his. Some very interesting curves revealed rather than concealed. Honey-blonde hair, rose lips, shining eyes. Very attractive package in every way.

“This is agent Incuba who will accompany you,” Jay said.

“Well, in that case I withdraw my objections,” I smarmed. “I’m sure she is a very efficient officer ...”

“Oh, yes?” a voice spoke out from the thin air, the second time this day. Only this one was a female voice that I instantly recognized. “If you think you are going galaxy-hopping alone with that sleazy sexpot, Jim diGriz, you are very mistaken. You had better book three tickets.”

NINETEEN

“What kind of secret war conference is this?” Inskipp howled. “Is everyone listening to it? That was your wife on the eavesdropping circuit, diGriz—wasn’t it?”

“Sounded very much like her,” I said a little too heartily. “I guess you ought to have the security arrangements checked out. But you’ll have to take care of that yourself because I have to go look at some other galaxies and that is a time-consuming business. You’ll get my report soonest, gentlemen.”

I exited with Incuba a few steps behind me. Angelina was waiting in the corridor. Eyes glowing like a female lioness, fingernails hooked like claws. She seared my skin with one sizzling glare, then turned her destroying gaze on Incuba.

“Do you plan to wear that bathrobe for this arduous trip?” she asked, voice close to absolute zero. Incuba looked Angelina up and down, her expression unchanged although her nostrils flared ever so lightly as though she had sniffed something bad.

“Probably not. But whatever I wear it will certainly be more practical—and a good deal more attractive than that.”

Before the warfare escalated I took the coward’s way out and dropped a mini smoke-grenade. It banged and puffed and took their attention off their differences for an instant. I spoke quickly.

“Ladies, we leave in one half an hour so please be ready. I am off to the lab now to set things up with Professor Coypu and I hope that you will join me there.”

Angelina joined me now, grabbing my arm with talons sunk deep, marching me off down the corridor, hissing words into my ear—then biting it for emphasis.

“One pass at that tramp, one look, one touch of your hand on hers and you are a dead man, Dirty Old Jim diGriz.”

“What happened to innocent-until-proven-guilty?” I groaned, rubbing the aching earlobe. “I love you and none other. Now, can we drop this and get on with the war. And get Coypu to set up our investigation.”

“You have only one choice of a possible galaxy,” Coypu said, after I had explained the situation.

“What do you mean?” I was shocked. “Billions, an infinite number you said.”

“I did. That many exist. But we can get access for a large object, such as a spaceship, to only six. After that the energy demand is too great to open a screen more than two meters in diameter. You’re not going to get many aliens through a hole that big.”

“Well, that’s at least six universes. So why do you say only one?”

“Because in the other five this laboratory exists and I have observed myself or other humans in it. In the sixth, which I call Space Six, there is no laboratory or Corps base. The screen opens into interstellar space.”

“Then that is the one we must try,” a golden voice said, and Incuba tripped in through the door. She was fetchingly garbed in tight shipsuit, kinky black boots and other interesting things that I knew better than to notice since Angelina was right behind her. I turned my gaze to Coypu; uglier but safer.

“Then that is the one we must try,” I told him.

“I thought you might say that. I have the parallelilizer screen projected outside this laboratory building. It is one hundred meters in diameter. I suggest you get a spacer with a smaller diameter and I will instruct you from there on.”

“Great idea. A Lancer scoutship will just do the job.”

I exited with my loyal crew right after me. I signed for the scoutship and did all the preflight checks with Angelina’s assistance. Incuba stayed out of the control room, which made life easier to live.

“I’ve always wanted to see another universe,” I said brightly.

“Shut up and fly this thing.”

I sighed and got Coypu on the radio.

“Fly forty-six degrees from your present position,” he said. “You will see a circular ring of lights.”

“Got it.”

“Then go through it. And I suggest you make a careful navigation fix on the other side and drop a radio beacon as well.”

“Very helpful of you. We would like to get back someday.”

The spacer slipped through the ring, which vanished behind us. In the rear scopes I could see a disc of blackness occulting the stars.

“Position recorded, beacon launched,” Angelina said.

“You are wonderful. I note from the recordings that there is a nice G2 star over there about fifty light years away. And the radio tells me that it was emitting radio signals some fifty years ago. Shall we go look?”

“Yes. And that’s all you will be looking at!”

“My love!” I took her hands in mine. “I have eyes only for you.” Then I saw that she was smiling, then laughing and we clinched a bit. “You have been leading me on?” I accused.

“A little bit. I thought it would be fun to go on this trip and it seemed a good reason. Also I will flay you with broken glass if you go anywhere near that Morality Corps chicken.”

“No fear. I am too busy saving the galaxy once again.”

When we came out of warpdrive Incuba joined us at the controls.

“There are two inhabited planets about that sun?” she asked.

“That is what the instruments and the radio tell us. We are taking a look-see at the nearest.”

It was a quick jump by warpdrive and then we were dropping down into the atmosphere. Blue sky, white clouds, a very pleasant place. The radio was blaring out very sinister music and occasional bursts of some incomprehensible language. None of us felt like talking. What, or who, inhabited this planet was of utmost importance. Lower and lower until the landscape was clear below us.

“Houses,” Angelina said, sounding very unhappy. “And plowed fields. Looks very much like home...”

“No, it doesn’t,” I shouted, turning up the magnification.

“Beautiful!” Angelina sighed, and it was. At least at this moment. Something with far too many legs was pulling a plow. Steering the plow was a very repulsive alien who would have been right at home with our present enemies.

“An alien universe!” I laughed as I spoke. “They can come here and make friends and live happily ever after. Let’s go back with the good news.”

“Let us investigate the other planet,” Incuba said quietly. “And as many more as we have to determine if humans exist here as well.”

Angelina gave her a cold look and I sighed.

“Sure. That’s what we must do. Look around and make sure it is all creepies. Of course it will be.”

Old big mouth. We zipped over to the second inhabited planet and looked down upon mills and mines, cities and countryside. Inhabited by the most human-looking humans I have ever seen.

“Maybe they are alien inside,” I said, grasping at a last straw.

“Should we cut one open and find out?” Angelina asked seriously.

“The cutting open of other creatures, human or alien, is forbidden by the Morality Corps ...”

Incuba’s words were cut off by a blast of static from the radio and shouted words in a strange language. At the same moment a number of readouts flickered and I looked at the viewscreen. And drew back.

“We have company,” I said. “Shall we leave?”

“I wouldn’t do anything in a hurry,” Angelina cozened.

For outside, very close indeed, was a very nasty black warship. Some of the guns had gaping muzzles big enough to drive our small ship into. And I’m sure that it was not by chance that they were pointing at us. I reached for the thrust controls just as I felt a number of strong tractor beams latch onto our ship.

“I think I will flit over and talk to them,” I said, rising and going to the suit locker. “Just watch the shop until I get back.”

“I’m going with you,” Angelina said firmly.

“Not this time, light of my life. And that is a command. If I don’t get back try and get a report through about what we have seen.”

With this noble exit line I exited, suited up and floated over to the dreadnought where a port obligingly opened for me. I walked in, head up, and was cheered a bit to see that the reception party were all human. Hard-eyed types in tight black uniforms.

“Krzty picklin stimfrx!” the one with the most gold bullion snapped at me.

“I’m sure it’s a great language, but I don’t speak it.”

He cocked an ear and listened—then issued a sharp order. Men ran and returned with a metal box, wires, plugs and a nasty-looking helmet. I shied away from the thing, but efficient-looking weapons were ground into my ribs and I desisted. It was clapped over my head, adjustments were made, then the officer spoke again.

“Can you understand me now, worm of an intruder?” he asked.

“I certainly can and there is no need for such language. We have come a long way and I don’t need any insults from you.”

His lips peeled back from his teeth at that and I thought he was going to sink them into my throat. The others present gasped with shock.

“Do you know who I am!” he shouted.

“No, nor do I care. Because you don’t know who I am. You have the pleasure of being in the presence of the first ambassador from a parallel universe. So you might say hello.”

“He is telling the truth,” a technician said, watching his flickering needles.

“Well, that’s different,” the officer said. Calming instantly. “You wouldn’t be expected to know the quarantine restrictions. My name is Kangg. Come have a drink and tell me what you are doing here.”

The booze was not bad and they were all fascinated by my story. Before I had finished they sent for the ladies and we all clinked glasses.

“Well, good luck on your quest,” Kangg said, raising his glass. “I don’t envy you your job. But as you can see we have our alien problem licked and the last thing we need is an invasion. Our war ended about a thousand years ago and was a close-run thing. We blew up all the alien spaceships and made sure the creepos stay now on planets of their own. They are ready to go for our throats again at any time, so we keep an eye on them with patrols like mine.”

“We shall return home and I shall report it would be immoral to send the fleet here,” Incuba said.

“We can lend you a few battleships,” Kangg offered. “But we are really spread kind of thin.”

“I’ll report your offer, and thanks,” I said. “But I’m afraid we need a more drastic solution. Now we have to get back because we will need an answer soon, or else.”

“Hope you lick them. Those greenies can be very mean.”

It was with utmost gloom that we returned to our ship and set course for the beacon. The parallel-world booze must have been working in my brain, or desperation goosing it into top gear, because suddenly I had a most interesting thought.

“I have it!” I shouted with uncontrolled joy. “The answer to our problems at last.” We popped through the screen and I made a mad landing at the nearest airlock. “Come with me and hear what it is!”

I ran, with the girls right behind me, bursting into the meeting room just as the staff chiefs were gathering in answer to my emergency call.

“Then we can send them the aliens?” Inskipp asked.

“No way. They have alien problems of their own.”

“Then what do we do?” a senile admiral moaned. “Six parallel galaxies and all of them with human beings. Where do we send the aliens?”

“To none of them,” I said. “We send them somewhere else instead. I checked with Coypu and he says it is possible and he is muttering over the equations now.”

“Where? Tell us!” Inskipp ordered.

“Why, we use time travel. We send them through time.”

“Into the past?” He was puzzled.

“No, that wouldn’t work. They would just be hanging around waiting for the human race to develop so they could wipe us out. So the past is no good. We send them into the future.”

“You’re mad, diGriz. What does that accomplish?”

“Look, we send them a hundred years into the future. And while they are en route we have all the best scientific minds of the galaxy working on ways to knock them off. We have a hundred years to do it in. We develop something and, a hundred years from now, our people are waiting for them when they appear and they take care of the menace once and for all.”

“Wonderful!” Angelina said. “My husband is a genius. Set up the machine and send them into the future.”

“IT IS FORBIDDEN,” a deep voice said from above.

TWENTY

The shocked silence that followed this unexpected announcement continued for a heartbeat or two, then was interrupted drastically when Inskipp whipped out his gun and began shooting holes in the ceiling.

“Secret meeting! Top security! Why don’t we go on TV with this session—it would be more private!”

He foamed as he spoke and shrugged off the aged admirals who tried to stop him. I vaulted the table and disarmed him, numbing him a bit in the process so he dropped, glassy-eyed, into his chair where he muttered to himself.

“Who said that?” I called out.

“I did,” a man said, appearing suddenly in midair, accompanied by a sharp popping sound. He dropped the short distance to the table, then jumped neatly to the floor.

“It beith I who spake, noble sirs. I hite Ga Binetto.”

He was something interesting to look at, dressed in baggy velvet clothes with high boots, a big hat with a curly feather, curly mustachios too which he twirled with his free hand. The other hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Since Inskipp was still muttering I would have to talk to him.

“We don’t care how tall you are—what’s your name?”

“Name? Namen—verily. I am named Ga Binetto.”

“What gives you the right to come barging into a secret meeting like this?”

“Forsooth, there be no secrets hidden from ye Temporal Constabulary.”

“The Time Police?” This was something new. “Time travelers from the past?” This was beginning to confuse even me.

“Ods bodkins, varlet, nay! Why thinkest thou that?”

“I thinkest that because that outfit and language haven’t been around for maybe thirty-two thousand years.”

He flashed me a dirty look and made some quick adjustments on some knobs on the pommel of his sword.

“Don’t be so damn superior,” Ga Binetto snapped. “You try hopping from time to time and learning all the disgusting languages and dialects. Then you wouldn’t be so quick to...”

“Can we get back to business,” I broke in. “You’re the Time Police, but not from the past. So—let me guess—the future maybe? Just nod your head, that’s right. So that’s straight. Now tell us why we can’t shoot those aliens through a couple of hundred years of time?”

“Because it is forbidden.”

“You said that before. Now, how about some reasons.”

“I don’t have to give you any.” He leered coldly. “We could have sent an H-bomb through instead of me, so how about shutting up and listening.”

“He is correct,” one of the senile admirals quavered. “Welcome to our time, illustrious time traveler. Give us your instructions, if you please.”

“That’s more like it. Respect where respect is due, if you don’t mind. All you are permitted to know is that it is the job of the Time Police to police time. We see to it that paradoxes do not occur, that major misuses of time travel, such as your proposed plan, do not happen. The very fabric of time and probability would be strained by the event should it occur. It is forbidden.”

There was a gloomy silence following this news, during which time I thought furiously.

“Tell me, Ga Binetto,” I said. “Are you human or an alien in disguise?”

“I’m as human as you,” he said angrily. “Maybe even more so.”

“That’s good. Then if you are a human from the future the aliens never wiped out all the human beings in the galaxy as they plan. Right?”

“Then how do we win the war?”

“The war is won by ...” He clamped his mouth shut and turned bright red. “That information is time-classified and I cannot tell you. Figure it out for yourself.”

“Don’t palm us off with that chromo-crap,” Inskipp growled, deep in his throat, recovered at last. “You say stop the only plan that can save the human race. Sure I say, we’ll stop it—if you tell us what else we can do. Or we go ahead as planned.”

“It is forbidden to tell.”

“Can’t you at least hint?” I suggested.

He thought about that for a moment, then smiled. I did not like the look of that smile. “The solution should be obvious to one of your intelligence, diGriz. It’s all in the mind.”

He hopped into the air, clicked his heels together—and disappeared.

“What did he mean by that?” Inskipp said, scowling with concentration.

What did he mean? It was a clue directed at me so I should be able to solve the riddle. The first part was there to misdirect me I was sure, the bit about my intelligence. It’s all in the mind. My mind? Whose mind? Was it an idea we had not thought of before? Or was he really talking about minds? I had no idea.

Incuba was looking dreamily into space, thinking deep moral thoughts no doubt. I was beginning to think she was pretty dumb. But not Angelina. That lovely brow was furrowed with thought, for her mind was as high-powered as her body. She narrowed her eyes, concentrating—then suddenly widened them. Then smiled. When she caught me looking at her the smile broadened, and she winked. I raised my eyebrows, in an unspoken question and she nodded back, ever so slightly.

If I were reading the signs correctly all of this nonverbal communication indicated that she had solved the riddle. Having seen recently what real male chauvinist swine were, I was beginning to abandon my claim to that role. If Angelina had the answer I would humbly and with gratitude accept it from her. I leaned closer.

“If you know—tell us,” I said. “Credit where credit is due.”

“You are maturing as the years pass, aren’t you, darling!” She blew me a quick kiss, then raised her voice. “Gentlemen. The answer is obvious.”

“Well, not to me,” Inskipp said.

“It’s all in the mind, that’s what he said. Which can mean mind control...”

“The gray men!” I shouted. “The Kekkonshiki brain kinkers!”

“I still don’t see...”

“Because you can see only a physical battle, Inskipp old warrior,” I said. “What that time traveling twit was hinting at was an end to the war completely.”

“How?”

“By getting the aliens to change their minds. By having them learn to love human beings so they can turn their industrial might to war reparations and make this universe a model for all the others. And who are the master mind changers? None but the Kekkonshiki. They told me that their psychcontrol techniques work on all races. Let’s put them to the test.”

And how do you think they will do that?” an admiral asked.

“The details will be worked out later,” I said, meaning I hadn’t the slightest idea at this time. “Order up a battle cruiser and see that there are plenty of space marines aboard. I am off at once to arrange the salvation of the galaxy.”

“I am not sure about that,” Incuba said. “There is a question of morality in mind manipulation ...” Her words died away and she slumped to the floor.

“Poor thing, she’s fainted,” Angelina said. “All the stress, you know. I’ll take her to her quarters.”

Fainted indeed! I had seen my wife in action before. As she spirited the unconscious girl from the room I moved fast, taking advantage of the time she had bought me.

“The battle cruiser! Order it to the spacelock now for I am going to board her.”

“Correct,” Inskipp said. “It’s on its way.” He was aware of the byplay too and just as eager as I was to get the project launched while the Morality Corps observer was accidentally indisposed.

We made a fast and silent trip. For security measures I imposed a radio blackout from repeater stations and told the psiman to accept no messages directed at us. So when the frigid world of Kekkonshiki appeared on the screens ahead I still had not been ordered back. And, after giving the subject a good deal of concentration, I knew what had to be done.

“Break radio blackout and contact the landing party,” I ordered.

“They’re on now,” the operator said. “But they haven’t landed. Their ship is still in orbit.”

“What’s happened?”

“Here’s the commander, sir.”

An officer with a bandaged head appeared on the screen. He saluted when he saw all the gold braid I was wearing.

“They insist on fighting,” he said. “My orders were to pacify the planet, not blow it up. So when all attempts at communication failed I withdrew. After neutralizing their spacers.”

“They know they can’t win.”

“You know that and I know that. Now try telling it to those madmen.”

It should have been expected. The fatalistic Kekkonshiki would much prefer to die than surrender. In fact surrender was probably a word that they did not know, a concept alien to their Moral Philosophy of survival. Yet we needed their help. There was only one person on the planet—hopefully still alive—who could possibly arrange that.

“Stay in orbit, Commander, and await instructions. This ship will join you after I have made contact on the planet. You’ll hear from me when it is time to land.”

Within an hour I had issued all the orders, gathered what equipment I would need, and was floating down in a spacesuit toward the white planet below. The gravchute slowed my drop and the infrared scope let me see clearly through the driving snow. I steered for a familiar building and dropped, not too lightly, onto a roof where I had been before. It was all very cold and very depressing because I had hoped I had seen the last of this particular world.

I suppose I could have landed on the ground and gone in through the front door, taken a squad of marines too to help me shoot up any opposition. But that was not what I wanted. A quiet contact with Hanasu first, before anyone knew I was back. The fact that it was well after dark had convinced me that retracing my old route might be the best way. I pried open the trapdoor and, after much wriggling and puffing, managed to get myself and the spacesuit through the opening and into the building. First step accomplished. Then I took off the cumbersome garment, unlocked the door for what I hoped was the last time, and walked silently down the corridor.

“You are the enemy, you must be killed,” a small boy said in a toneless voice as he hurled himself at me. I stepped aside so he stumbled and fell, leaving me the perfect target. The needle from my gun easily penetrated the seat of his trousers and he sighed and relaxed. I tucked him under my arm and went on as quietly as I could.

By the time I pushed open Hanasu’s office door I was carrying four of them altogether and beginning to stagger. He looked up from behind the desk and, if he were capable of smiling, this is the time when he would have.

“It all worked as you planned,” he said. “The message was received. You escaped.”

“I did, and now I’m back. With some small friends who are not happy to see me.”

“They listen to the radio broadcasts from Kome and they do not know what to believe. They are disturbed.”

“Well, these ones are quiet enough now. Let me make them comfortable on your floor.”

“I will use the axion feed. They will remember nothing.”

“Not this time. They’ll sleep long enough not to bother us. Now tell me—what has happened since I left.”

“Confusion. It is written nowhere in our Moral Philosophy what to do at this sort of time. Therefore when Kome issued his orders to fight or die he was obeyed. Everyone can understand that. There was no way I could combat him by myself, so I have done nothing. I have waited.”

“Very wise. But now that I am here there is something very important that you can do.”

“What is that?”

“Convince your people here that they must take up alien disguise again and go back and control the aliens.”

“I do not understand. You wish them to encourage the war again?”

“No. Quite the opposite. I want them to stop it.”

“You must explain. This is beyond me.”

“Let me ask you a question first. Could the synaptic generators be used on the aliens? To convince them that human beings are really very nice after all. We do have damp eyeballs and sweat a lot. Fingers aren’t too different from tentacles when you think about it. Could this be done?”

“Very easily. You must understand that the aliens come from primitive cultures and are easily led. When we began infiltrating them to organize the invasion we were faced with indifference at first. To overcome this the leaders were treated and taught to hate humans. Then, through propaganda, they convinced the rest of the populations. It took a long time, but that is the way it was done.”

“Can the indoctrination process be reversed?”

“I would think so. But how can you convince my people to do a thing like this?”

“That is the big question I was coming to.” I stood and paced the room, marshaling my thoughts, stepping over the snoring bodies of the boys. “What is to be done must be done through the teachings of Moral Philosophy as you practice it here. I was wrong, angry, when I told you that this culture must be destroyed. It should not be. It is a vital one, an important one that contains elements that should benefit all of mankind. It was just misapplied when it left the surface of this planet. Is there anything inherent in Moral Philosophy, MP, that says you must be galaxy conquerors?”

“No. We learned to hate those who abandoned us on this world because we must always believe that they will never come back to save us. We must save ourselves. Survival is the beginning and the end. Anything that goes against that is wrong.”

“Then Kome and his talk of racial suicide is wrong!”

For a Kekkonshiki, Hanasu looked almost startled. “Of course! His preachings go against the law. All must be told.”

“They will be. But that is point one. Now think about the laws of MP again. You survive. You are superior to the rest of mankind. You hate the ones who abandoned you long ago. But the people alive today don’t even know about that abandonment, nor are they responsible for it. Therefore it is not necessary to hate them. Better than that, since the Kekkonshiki are superior to all other people, you are morally responsible to help them survive if they are threatened. How does that fit the MP rules?”

Hanasu was wide-eyed and rigid, his mind in a turmoil as he considered these unusual ideas. Nodding his head.

“It is just as you say. It is a novel thing to apply Moral Philosophy to a new situation. It has never been done before. There were no new situations. There are now. We have been wrong and I see now how we have been wrong. We simply reacted to other human beings. We were emotional. We violated the basic tenets of Moral Philosophy. When I explain all will understand. We will save the human race.” He turned to me and clasped my hand. “You have saved us from ourselves, my friend. We have broken the tenets by what we have done. Now we will make them right. I will go forth and speak.”

“Let’s set it up. We must be sure that Kome doesn’t shoot first and debate later. If we keep him quiet do you think that you can convince the troops?”

“There is no doubt. None will dare disagree with what I say for I will explain the law as it is written, as it is taught, as they have learned since they were small boys like the ones here.”

As though right on cue some of these same small boys burst the door open. There were a lot of them there, filling the doorway, all heavily armed. Led by one of their teachers who pointed the gun directly at me.

“Put down your weapon,” he ordered. “I will shoot and kill if you do not.”

TWENTY-ONE

Of course my gun was pointing at the pack; my reflexes are still in good shape. I had drawn and crouched automatically as the door had crunched. Now I rose slowly and let the gun drop to my side. I was seriously outgunned, by deadly weapons held by nervous boys.

“Don’t shoot, you’ve got me cold!” I called out.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hanasu asked, standing and walking toward the door. “Lower those weapons. This is an order.”

The boys obeyed instantly—they knew who the headmaster was—but the teacher wavered. “Kome has said...”

“Kome is not here. Kome is wrong. I order you for the last time to put that weapon down.” The teacher hesitated for an instant too long and Hanasu turned to me. “Shoot him,” he ordered.

Of course I did, and he thudded to the floor. With a sleep needle of course, though the boys did not have to know that. And I doubted if Hanasu cared. He was not used to his orders being disobeyed. “Hand me that gun,” he ordered the nearest boy. “And call an assembly of the entire school at once.”

They handed over the guns and instantly left. I dragged in the teacher’s body and laid it next to his pupils. Hanasu closed the door, deep in thought.

“Here is what we will do,” he finally said. “I will explain the differences to everyone in terms of Moral Philosophy. They have been troubled with internal conflicts over the application and this problem will now be resolved. After they have understood we will march on the spaceport. Kome and his activists are there. I will explain again and they will join us. Then you will call your ship down and we will proceed to the second part of the program.”

“That all sounds very good. But what if they don’t agree with you?”

“They will have to. Because it is not me they are agreeing with but the text of Moral Philosophy as it is written. Once they understand it will not be a matter of choice or agreement but of obedience.”

He sounded very sure of himself so I crossed my fingers behind his back and hoped that he was right.

“Maybe I should come with you. In case of trouble?”

“You will wait here until you are summoned.”

Hanasu exited on that line and I could do nothing other than let him go. The row of unconscious figures depressed me, so I unlimbered my radio and contacted my ships; to put them into the picture. They would stand by, in orbit above the spaceport, and await further orders. I broke the connection when there was a knock on the door.

“Come with me,” a stem-faced little boy ordered. I obeyed. Hanasu was waiting by the open front door of the school while boys and teachers streamed by him on both sides.

“We go to the spaceport,” he said. “We will reach it at dawn.”

“No problems?”

“Of course not. I could tell that they were relieved to have this conflict over interpretation of the rulings of Moral Philosophy made clear to them. My people are strong, but they get their strength from obedience. Now they are stronger still.”

Hanasu drove the only car in the procession and I was glad to travel with him. The rest of the staff and the students slogged along on skis. Uncomplainingly, despite the fact they had all been sound asleep less than an hour before. There is a lot to be said for discipline. There is nothing to be said for the comfort of Kekkonshiki groundcars. Though this trip was a little smoother than the first one, since Hanasu drove slower so the skiers could keep up. Dawn was lighting up the first snowstorm of the morning as we reached the spaceport entrance. Two guards emerged from the shack and looked stolidly at the car and following skiers as though this happened every day.

“Tell Kome I am here to see him,” Hanasu ordered.

“None are permitted in. Kome has ordered. All enemy are to be killed. That is an enemy in your car. Kill him.”

Hanasu’s voice was cold as the grave, although it rang with authority.

“The Fourteenth Rule of Obedience states you will obey the orders of one of the Ten. I have given you an order. There is no rule that there are enemies to be killed. Stand aside.”

A trace of emotion almost touched the guard’s face, then was gone. He stepped back. “Proceed,” he said. “Kome will be informed.”

In line now, our juvenile and senile invading force swept across the spaceport toward the administration buildings. We passed antiaircraft implacements, but the men manning them only looked on and made no attempt to stop us. It was gray, chill dawn now, with sudden snow flurries blasting by. Our car stopped in front of the entrance to administration and Hanasu had just climbed, creaking, down when the door opened. I stayed in the car and tried to look invisible. Kome and a dozen followers emerged, all carrying guns.

It must have been the cold that was chilling my brain because I realized, for the first time, that I was the only one in our party who was armed.

“Go back to your school, Hanasu. You are not wanted here,” Kome shouted, getting in the first word. Hanasu ignored him, walking forward until he was face to face with the other man. When he spoke he spoke loudly so all could hear.

“I tell you all to put your guns away for what you are doing is against the rule of Moral Philosophy. By that rule we must lead the weak races. By that rule we must not commit suicide by fighting all the other races who outnumber us millions to one. If we fight them as we are doing now we will all be killed. Is this what the Thousand taught us? You must...”

“You must get out of here,” Kome called out. “It is you who break the rule. Go or be killed.” He raised his gun and pointed it. I slipped out of the door of the car.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said, my own gun pointing.

“You bring an alien here!” Kome’s voice was loud, almost angry. “He will be killed, you will be killed...”

His voice broke off and there was a loud crack as Hanasu stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.

“You are proscribed,” Hanasu said, and there was a gasp of indrawn breath from all the watchers. “You have disobeyed. You are ended.”

“Ended? Not me, you!” Kome cracked, his voice roared with rage, whipping up his gun.

I dived to the side, trying for a shot, but Hanasu was in the way. There was the crackling roar of gunfire.

Yet Hanasu still stood there. Unmoving as Kome’s ragged body fell to the ground. All of his followers had fired at him at the same time. The rule of Kekkonshiki Moral Philosophy had destroyed him. Calm and undisturbed, Hanasu turned to all those present and explained his newly discovered interpretation of the Law. They tried not to show expression, but it was obvious that they were relieved. There was solidity in their lives again, structure and order. Kome’s huddled body was the only evidence that there had ever been a schism and, from the way they stood, they obviously did not see it nor want to look at it. Order had returned.

“You can come down now,” I ordered into my radio.

“Negative. Priority override orders.”

“Negative!” I shouted into the microphone. “What are you talking about. Get those crates down here instantly or I’ll fry your commander and eat him for lunch.”

“Negative. Order issuing vessel on way ETA three minutes.”

The connection was broken and I could only stare, popeyed, at the radio. What development was this? More and more men were coming up and listening to Hanasu. The situation was well in hand, a solution possible-and I got more troubles. A slim scoutship dropped down through the snowstorms and I was at the port when it swung open. Fire in my eye and my fingers twitching millimeters from my gunbutt. A familiar and loathsome form stepped out.

“You!” I cried.

“Yes, it is I. And just in time to prevent a miscarriage of moral justice.”

It was Jay Hovah, boss of the Morality Corps. And I had more than a strong suspicion why he was here.

“You’re not needed here,” I said. “Nor are you dressed for the weather. I suggest you get back inside.”

“Morality comes first,” he shivered, for no one had told him about the climate and he was wearing just his usual bathrobe outfit.

“I tried talking to him, but he would not listen,” an even more familiar voice said, and Angelina emerged from behind him.

“Darling!” I called out and we had a quick embrace then drew away as Jay Hovah’s voice came between us.

“It is my understanding that your mission here is to convince these people to use psych-control techniques on the aliens so we can win the war. These techniques are immoral and will not be used.”

“Who is this who comes here?” Hanasu asked in his coldest voice.

“His name is Jay,” I said. “In charge of our Morality Corps. He makes sure that we don’t do things that violate our own moral codes.”

Hanasu looked him up and down like some specimen of vermin, then turned away and faced me. “I have seen him,” be said. “You may now take him away. Have your ships land so the operation against the aliens can begin.”

“I don’t think you heard me,” Jay Hovah said through chattering teeth. “This operation is forbidden. It is immoral.”

Hanasu turned slowly to face him and impaled him with an arctic stare. “You do not talk to me of immorality. I am a Leader in Moral Philosophy and I interpret the Law. What we did to the aliens to start this war was a mistake. We will now utilize the same techniques to stop it.”

“No! Two wrongs do not make a right. It is forbidden.”

“You cannot stop us, for you have no authority here. You can only order us killed to stop us. If we are not killed we will do what must be done as ordered by our own moral code.”

“You will be stopped...”

“Only by death. If you cannot order us killed remove yourself and your interference.”

Hanasu turned his back and walked away. Jay moved his jaw a few times, but had trouble talking. He was also turning blue. I waved two of the schoolboys over.

“Here, lads. Help this poor old man back into his ship so he can warm up and consider the old philosophical problem of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object.”

Jay tried to protest, but they gave him a firm clutch and frog-marched him back aboard.

“What happens now?” Angelina asked.

“The Kekkonshiki are unleashed and go out and try to win the war. There is no way that the Morality Corps can find justification for killing them in order to stop them from saving us. I think that will be a little too much hair-splitting even for Jay and Incuba. He can maybe order us not to give aid to the Kekkonshiki, but will probably have a hard time justifying even that.”

“I’m sure that you are right. Then what is next?”

“Next? Why, saving the galaxy, of course. Again.”

“That’s my ever-modest husband,” she said, but tempered her admonitory words by kissing me soundly.

TWENTY-TWO

“That really looks impressive, don’t you think?” I asked.

“I think it looks disgusting,” Angelina said, wrinkling her nose. “Not only that, they stink.”

“An improvement over the first model, Remember, where we are going anything bad must be good.”

In a way Angelina was right. It did look disgusting. Which was good, very good. We stood at the front of the main cabin of the spaceliner we had commandeered for this job. Before us stretched row after row of heavy chairs, almost five hundred in all. And in each chair there crouched, or flopped, or oozed, a singularly repulsive alien. Something to gladden the eyestalks of the enemy I was sure, for all of these had been patterned after my first alien disguise. More of the same race, the Geshtunken. What would not have gladdened the multiple hearts and plasma pumps of the enemy, if they had known, was the fact that each of these aliens held a solemn-faced Kekkonshiki. While built into each thrashing tail was a high-powered synaptic generator. Our crusade for peace had begun.

Not that organizing it had been easy. The Morality Corps was still resolutely set against our brain-twisting the enemy. But their authority worked through planetary governments and the heads of staff. For once I blessed the complex tangle of bureaucratic tanglement. While orders were issued and routed a few of us in the Special Corps launched a rush program to circumvent the orders before we received them. Key technicians were whisked away and their destination lost in the files. A protesting Prof Coypu was ripped from his midnight bed and found himself in deep space before be had put his socks on. A certain highly automated manufacturing planet had been co-opted by our agents and the Kekkonshiki volunteers were spacelifted there. While the alien disguises were being fabricated, Hanasu beaded the programming team of psychcontrol technicians. We had barely succeeded in time, finally blasting off short hours ahead of the battleship that Morality Corps had dispatched to stop us. In the end this aided instead of hurting since we zipped up to the alien fleet with the battleship belting along after us. A few barrages from the space-whales had it turning tail.

“We’re within communication distance now,” I announced. “Are you ready for your work, Kekkonshiki volunteers?”

“We are ready,” came the loud but unemotional response.

“Good luck, then. On suits, my crew.”

I climbed into my alien outfit and Angelina got into hers. James was in one robot disguise, Bolivar in the other. They waved, then clanged the tops shut. I zipped my neck and turned on the communicator.

“My darling Sleepery Jeem returned from the gravel” a repulsive thing with claws and tentacles rattled and gurgled at me from the screen.

“I do not know you, ugly sir,” I simpered. “But you must have made the acquaintance of my twin. I am her sister, Sleepery Bolivar.” I actuated the trigger that released a large and oily tear that trickled down my lengthened eyelashes and splashed to the deck. “Back on Geshtunken we heard of her noble death. We have come for vengeance!”

“Welcome, welcome,” the thing gurgled and writhed.

“I am Sess-Pula, the new commander of all the forces. Join me at once and we will have great stinking banquet!”

I did as ordered, joining our ships and rolling to his rotten welcome with Angelina at my side. I had to sidestep neatly to avoid Sess’s wet embrace and he squashed to the deck instead.

“Meet Ann-Geel, my chief of staff. These little robots bring gifts of food and drink which we will now consume.”

The party rolled into high gear at once, and more and more of the ship’s officers came to Join us until I wondered who was flying the thing. Probably no one. “How goes the war?” I asked.

“Terrible!” Sess moaned, draining a flagon, of something green and bubbly. “Oh, we have the alien crunchies, on the run all right, but they won’t stop and fight. Morale runs low since all of our soldiers are fed up with war and want only to return to the sticky embraces of their loved things. But the war must go on. I think.”

“Help is on the way,” I cried, slapping him on the back, then wiping off my band on the rug. “My ship is filled with bloodthirsty volunteers all lusting for war and victory and vengeance. In addition to being great fighters and having good senses of smell, my troops are great navigators and fire control officers, watchkeeping officers and cooks.” “By Slime-Gog we can use them!” Sess gurgled aloud. “Do you have many troops with you?”

“Well,” I said coyly. “We might just have enough to spare one for each of your battleships, and each battleship can lead a fleet, and if the officers of the fleet want advice or morale boosting they are welcome to talk to my people who work night and day and are sexy to boot.”

“We are saved!” he screamed.

Or lost, I thought to myself, smiling toothily at the disgusting revelry on all sides. I wondered how long it would take for my brainscrambling saboteurs to get the job done.

Not long, not long at all. Since the aliens had had to be convinced to go to war in the first place, were fed up in the second place, they were ripe for subversion in the third place. The rot spread and it was only a few days later that Sess-Pula slithered up to me in the navigation room where I was making sure, by rotten navigation, that we didn’t catch up with the fleeing human fleet. He looked gloomily at the screen with a half dozen bloodshot eyestalks.

“Not sleeping too well lately?” I asked, flicking one of his rudy orbs with a claw. He sucked it back in unhappily.

“You can say that again, bold Woleevar. It is all too depressing, the fleet seems to be getting away, back in my home hive last year’s crop of virgins will be approaching estrous. I keep asking myself what I am doing here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. My heart has gone out of this war.”

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing last night. Have you noticed that the aliens really aren’t too crunchy? They have damp eyes and nasty-looking wet red things in their mouths.”

“You’re right!” he slobbered. “I never thought of that before. What can we possibly do?”

“Well ...” I said, and for all apparent purposes that was that. Ten hours later, after a lot of radioing back and forth among the ships, the mightiest fighting armada the galaxy had ever seen was cutting a great arc in space. Turning, reversing, going back to the creepy places from whence they bad come.

In the drunken party that evening that celebrated the victorious end of the war—they bad rationalized it that way with some help—I and Angelina clutched claws and looked around at the disgusting sights on all sides.

“They are really sort of sweet when you get used to them,” she said.

“I wouldn’t go quite as far as to say that. But they are rather harmless once they abandon all the war plans.”

“Rich, too,” the James robot said, pouring something nasty into my glass.

“We have been doing a little investigating,” Bolivar said, rolling up on the other side. “In their various operations they have captured ships and planets and satellites. They emptied all the bank vaults since they knew that we valued their contents, though they didn’t know why. They do not have money as we have it.”

“I know,” I said. “They have the Eckh Unit, which is best left undescribed.”

“Right, Dad,” James said. “So when they raided all the treasuries they sent the stuff here to the command battleship, hoping something, would figure out what to do with it. What they did do with it was to store it all in one of the holds.”

“Let me guess,” Angelina said. “The hold is now empty?”

“You’re always right, Mom. And the transport ship is sort of full.”

“We’ll have to return the loot to the sources from whence it came,” I said, and was pleased at the two shocked robotic looks and one alien stare of despair.

“Jim... !” Angelina gasped.

“Do not worry. I have all my senses. I mean we’ll have to return the alien loot that we found ...”

“... but we didn’t recover very much.” She finished the sentence for me.

Something heavy, greenish-brown, tentacled and clawed, squashed down noisily next to me.

“To victory!” Sess-Pula shouted. “We must drink to victory! Silence, everyone, silence, while the pulchritudinous Sleepery proposes a toast.”

“I shall!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. Aware of the sudden silence and the fact that every eyepad, eyestalk, optic tentacle, not to mention six human eyeballs, was fixed upon me.

“A toast,” I called out, raising my glass on high so enthusiastically that some of the drink slopped out and burned a hole in the carpet.

“A toast to all the creatures that live in our universe, large and small, solid and sloppy. May peace and love be their lot forever more. Here’s to life, liberty—and the opposite sex!”

And thus we rushed down the light years toward a far, far better future.

I hope.