by Zach Hughes
the early stages of this world, fruitful, with varied forms of life, rich, sweet air, and a variety of foods with our world today. Compare the pictures in the Book of Rose the Healer of the Old Ones dying in vast numbers with the small picture of our population. Assuming that there is a constant amount of life force is it not logical to think that each of us is allotted a larger picture of life force than was allotted to one of the Old Ones? This would explain the superiority of our life forms. Is it not possible that there is a life force on a new, empty world, waiting to inhabit the body of life? One of the possibilities is that Rack and Beautiful Wings will find an empty planet, true. But it is just as believable to think that nature awaits them with a reserve of life force which, once absorbed, will make them more than they are.» «Your faith humbles me,» said Gray Body. «What else is there?» Rack asked. «I share Red Earth's faith. Nature has never deserted us. She has given us good life in the past, with pockets of sweet air and quantities of broth. She has made us thinking beings who can see beauty. A mother will not abandon her children.» «It is time,» Red Earth said, «to cease speculating and apply ourselves to the task at hand. Shadow on the Moon, the youngest Far Seer who studies the satellite, will outline some of the difficulties.» Shadow on the Moon, agitated by the attention, began his presentation. «Our senses tell us of large mountains and valleys. This fact may indicate a supply of good air, for uneroded mountains indicate a youthful world. On our world the rains and the winds have eaten our mountains. Thus, we anticipate no difficulty once the satellite is reached. The dangers lie in the journey through space. In space the air particles are so scattered that not even the lungs of a powerful Healer such as Rack could find a breath. Enough air must be stored for Rack and his Power Giver to sustain life for—» The picture of days he sent startled Rack. «It is not within the power of Rack the Healer,» he protested. «So,» Shadow on the Moon went on, «it is necessary to provide a store of air and food. I have considered the possibilities. The amount needed would entail a pack of unwieldy proportions. This being undesirable, I have suggested, an alternate course.» He sent a picture of a small establishment, constructed of the Material, complete with Breather tanks and broth vessels. «The bulk will be far too great,» Rack said, thinking of the drain on Beautiful Wings. «Ordinarily, yes,» Shadow on the Moon said. «But there are certain differences between a soar such as we contemplate and a simple soar within the range of the pull of the earth.» He turned to Beautiful Wings. «Your senses tell you of the nature of the force that surrounds the earth. Can you picture the extent of the force?» She concentrated. «I have never considered it. I have soared high, but I have never felt any diminishing of the force that, when unopposed, tugs me back to earth.» «The senses of a Far Seer are more perceptive,» Red Earth prompted, and Shadow on the Moon continued his discourse. «We, too, can see the force of the earth,» he said, «although we cannot utilize it, and our sight extends into the airlessness of space. There, at certain distances, we note a decrease in the power. Surrounding the satellite we sense a similar force, although its power is less because it is a smaller world. Thus, in a soar beyond the earth, less power would be required, and once past a certain point, a Power Giver could cease her work, allowing the pull of the sister world to furnish the motive power.» «But,» said Beautiful Wings, «in my idle play I have sometimes allowed myself to fall. When I cease working, the earth tugs and I fall ever faster. If I allow myself to fall for too long, the power needed to stop is far greater than the power needed for a simple soar.» «True. That is in our thoughts,» Shadow on the Moon said. «I suggest that practice soars be made, using the helping Power Giver. We must measure the force of the earth's pull and compare it with the pull of the sister world. Then we shall know the amount of power needed to stop the soar. It will be great—perhaps too great— for in airless space, the soar must be faster than any flight has ever been.» He pictured the distance and, once again, Rack was awed. As the planning continued the number of difficulties seemed to grow until they burdened Rack's mind. The vast picture of distance intimidated him and he feared not for himself, but for Beautiful Wings. Never before had such a great demand been made on a Power Giver. And as the workers constructed the small establishment that would, according to the plan of Shadow on the Moon, protect them from the cold airlessness of space, Rack watched and weighed with his mind and despaired. However, he prepared for the trip dutifully. He stored by eating far more than his usual amount, breathing the rich, Breather-made air until all his cells were fat with air and he added new cells in the form of surplus. He felt bulky, but he knew that each small picture of air that was added, each bit of reserve, gave him that much more to share with Beautiful Wings. To cover all eventualities it was decided that an attempt should be made to teach Rack and Beautiful Wings the techniques of food and Material making. Eggs of Webbers and Juicers and small containers of the slime source plants would be stored in the flying establishment so that should they find an empty but clean-aired world they would have means for survival. Tending the Webbers and Juicers was a responsibility of the Far Seers, and the insects, accustomed only to their mind patterns, were at first restless in the presence of others. Rack studied the soothing patterns sent by the Far Seers, duplicated them, and finally became at ease with the hairy Webbers. Carefully avoiding the vicious stingers of the Juicers, he managed to master the technique of milking the creatures. It was up to Beautiful Wings to use her power to combine the two extracts, and after much experimentation she was partly successful. Red Earth assured her that before departure date she would be as adept at Material-making and broth-brewing as a Far Seer. At last the flying establishment had been completed and was ready for a test. The group gathered. Rack and Beautiful Wings entered, closed the lock, and lay down on the comfortable rack. He merged with her and she lifted, her area of power enclosing the establishment. They rose to the ceiling of the dome of Eastern Establishment and held there effortlessly, with Rack's substance and power funneling through their blended flesh to heal and help. Rack was encouraged, for the flying establishment added only a tiny picture to the drain on their joint resources. Then the test to measure the drain in actual soaring was arranged. Yellow Sky, a young and beautiful Power Giver, was to be united with Rack. «I fail to understand why, if I am to be the one to make the soar, I cannot go with you,» Beautiful Wings protested. «We must conserve your resources,» Red Earth said impatiently. Beautiful Wings, sending half-concealed pictures of jealousy, watched as Rack touched his tongue to the tongue of Yellow Sky. The flying establishment lifted rapidly into the dark, swirling clouds. Rack sent back pictures of their condition to the Far Seers. Yellow Sky took them up swiftly, as if to prove to all that she, as well as Beautiful Wings, could power the soar. Soon the establishment burst through the clouds into the blackness of the upper air. Rack in contact with Shadow on the Moon, directed her to slow the ascent until finally they hovered motionless high above the planet. The flying enclosure was almost invisible against the black space beyond it. Below, the view was blocked by the most terrible winter storms in history. Yet they were not alone, for the Far Seers held them in their minds, measuring their expenditure of substance. Exultant, not penalized in the slightest by the fast, heavy lift, the Power Giver radiated joy. Rack, however, was slightly uncomfortable. His mouth to hers, he knew the vague unease that he always felt in a merge with anyone other than Beautiful Wings. He was relieved when the Far Seers had enough information to allow the soar to end, and when they returned to earth he immediately sought seclusion within his chamber at the Eastern Establishment. That he was being selfish did not occur to him. However, when Beautiful Wings entered he looked up, arranging his features in an expression of pleasure. «Did you not even want to see me?» she asked. «Of course,» he said. «I was merely tired.» «Yet we have soared the wide sea without feeling fatigue,» she said. She was defenseless against his probing mind. Their long closeness had robbed her of the ability to close her mind to him. What he found hurt him. «You are
the most foolish of Power Givers,» he told her fondly. «Do you think I could forget so quickly?» He sent pictures of the repeated joining and she melted, coming to his side. «I will not allow you to merge with her again,» she said. He laughed. «Then you shall be the one who explains it to Red Earth.» But he sent such a wave of love that she purred aloud with pleasure and clung to him. Since it had been proved that the flying establishment could be soared relatively easily, only a few tests remained. As Yellow Sky once more lifted the load, Beautiful Wings tried to appear unconcerned, but was not successful in hiding her pique from Rack. At the height of the soar, in the thin air of near space, they hovered. Under the guidance of Shadow on the Moon, the flying establishment moved in an arc corresponding to the curve of the planet. Faster and faster they moved, Rack sending his energies into the body of the Power Giver. Just as the contact was about to be broken by the curvature of the planet Shadow on the Moon ordered them to slow, make a sweeping turn, and come back. As they complied the establishment began to move up at an increasing rate of speed, the strain felt even in Rack's strong body. When they returned to the surface of the planet they found the Far Seers greatly excited over the relative readings of power expended in the two methods of acceleration. One more test was required to confirm the thinking of the Far Seers. And to the relief of Beautiful Wings, it was decided to use the team that would make the final long soar. Rack was happy to be merged once again with Beautiful Wings. He knew her as he knew no other, knew the vibrant life force of her, the gladness with which she merged, the inner workings of her organs, the miraculous beauty of her cellular structure. His mind sang with hers as she lifted the thin bubble of the Material through the toxic clouds to where the bright sun was visible in the cold, thin air. Up and up they went, moving slowly, to conserve energy. Their trajectory was angled, aligned with the curve of the earth in a direction opposite to its rotation. Just before contact was lost, Shadow on the Moon directed them to level and engage the power of Beautiful Wings' mind to push the flying establishment even faster. There was no sensation of speed. Blocked by the curve of the earth from the mind of the Far Seer, they relied on an instinctive sense of timing to halt the force. As they rested, they felt light and free, their bodies floating gently free of the rack. Disengaged, they examined the situation. The senses of the Power Giver noted the pull of the earth, but they also distinguished another force that counteracted it. The balance of these two powers kept the flying establishment on an even keel, circling the earth at a far height, with no need for Rack and Beautiful Wings to expend any of their own energies. They passed through the dark of a space night and emerged again into the sun. The minds of the Far Seers came into contact, measuring jubilantly. After another circle of the planet at a speed never before attained, they came down, the mind of the Power Giver using its force to break the unseen force that counterbalanced the pull of the planet. Forcing against the pull they lowered slowly and settled outside the Eastern Establishment. Rack had difficulty understanding the pictures in the minds of the Far Seers, but Beautiful Wings, whose knowledge of planet fields and pull was inbred, grasped the pictures easily. Together, minds blended, they would be able to follow the exact instructions of the Far Seers. Moreover, throughout the early stages of the soar, they would be in contact with Shadow on the Moon. In his mind the wheelings of the worlds were precise pictures and his logic could send the pictures ahead in time to anticipate the exact location of the sister worlds at any given time. He had conceived a daring theory to save energy. As the flying establishment approached the sister world it would be speeding through space at a huge picture of velocity. Having measured the strength of the power used by Beautiful Wings and other Power Givers in stopping the fall of their own bodies toward the planet, he pictured the force needed to slow the flying establishment with the weight of Rack and Beautiful Wings inside. To stop the motion would cost dearly if Beautiful Wings forced herself directly against the satellite and came to a direct landing. Shadow on the Moon thought it possible to allow the pull of the satellite itself to slow the soar. Rack tried hard to capture the concept, but it was difficult. He left such technicalities to the Far Seers and Power Givers, confident that they were right when they said that the flying establishment should not aim directly at the satellite, but should swing past, allowing the pull of the world to slow the forward motion and curve it into a circle around the satellite. Power would then be used sparingly to slow the motion and allow the tug of the satellite to pull the establishment down to a site selected by Rack and Beautiful Wings. The preparations were complete. On a dark night at the low end of the sun circle, with the storms howling outside, lifting all the heavy gases into the already toxic atmosphere, the group gathered and listened to a recital of the deaths of the season. There were more blank spaces in the thin web of life force around the continent. Death stalked the world and dampened the anticipation of the great event. The aching knowledge of loss added a sense of urgency to the last-minute activity as Healers stored good air and broth in the flying establishment, placed fresh, healthy Breathers in the tanks, stored the eggs of the Webbers and Juicers and the slime source plants in their containers. Unable to sleep, Rack lay with his armored hand on the flank of Beautiful Wings. He felt her shift in sleep and heard the sound of her lungs using the good, sweet air. The Establishment was quiet, work at a half. He could hear the sigh of the winds through the thin walls of the Material. On his scales he could feel the occasional particle that made its way through the resistance of the walls. He wished for the abilities of the Far Seers, so that he could send his mind up beyond the lowering clouds to feel the swing of the worlds, the heat of the sun. He considered his life, and it was good. He had seen much, done much. This was the greatest adventure a Healer would ever experience. The fate of his world depended on his action. But Rack the Healer was young, strong, and confident. He did not know fear. XII This is the Book of Rack the Healer, called the New One, sent back to the minds of the Keepers from a point where the planet is but a yellow-purple brightness. These are the thoughts of Rack, sent from Space. They are sent for my daughter, the Keeper, whose name I do not know, who can store and keep but who can never know me; for those we love, Red Earth and Shadow on the Moon and Gray Body, Far Seers of great knowledge; for those who helped Yellow Sky the Power Giver and our brothers and sisters on the Eastern Continent, whom we greet. Our thoughts travel to them as well as to our homeland, for here, where the planet is small below us, our thoughts spread easily through the clear vastness, the ever-growing picture of distance. Know you, my brothers, my sisters, that your force is felt even here. Tender but strong emotions follow us, making us feel the life force, labeling our world as one of the favored of nature, one on which the life force glows brightly. We are able even now to feel the reassuring warmth of the combined minds of you, the Far Seers. We know at what cost you are sending us your guidance, for the distance is great and the sky is thick with poisons. And before we pass beyond the strength of our weak mind powers, I, Rack the Healer, presume to speak, to clutter the vaults of the Keepers' minds with my thoughts, in the hope that future generations might gain from our experience. You have seen the deadly poison and the dark, swirling air. You have, some of you, been able to make the high soar, passing beyond the obscuring darkness into the light, where you could see the sparkling suns within the black depths of the universe. For you, I send the scene to be recorded forever. The curvature of the planet is becoming evident as we rise, the cold is beginning to be felt inside the Establishment. I ruffle my scales so that they receive the direct rays of the sun. Its hard particles bounce and send energy into me which I share with the one who is welded to me, flesh on flesh. We leave the dying world behind. The night of space is black and the sun a brightness that, without the protection of my outer lids, I cannot endure. Even as I record my poor thoughts alongside those of my betters, I receive and obey the learned thinking of the Far Seers, who guide our soar into an arcing swoop. Now the forces equalize and we float, effortle
ssly. At this picture of distance, the clouds lose their deadliness and are merely a beautifully mottled layer of color, smooth, dense, even, obscuring the planet from our eyes. Into the cold of the shadow of the planet we fly, and I feel the slowness of my blood and give of my warmth to my Power Giver. We are measuring the time and at the precise moment determined by the mind of Shadow on the Moon, we surge, using all our combined power. I bid you, my world, temporary farewell and send you my love and ask yours in return. We are not of this world now, but from it, dwellers in the hostile vastness of space, an emptiness that makes the airless plains of glass seem like paradise. The world behind us seems close enough to touch. Steadily it shrinks to become a globe of yellowish-purple, and we watch the march of the giant winter storms. The clouds cover the southern seas, where the Breathers grow. The sun, harsh, unpitying, beats down on it. Out there we see the satellite, our goal. We are pushing toward it, using our power, feeling the drain. We rest, eat, refresh ourselves, and then we push again. I feel the accumulated fat of my system being used, feel myself shrinking. There is no sensation of speed or movement. We know we are moving only by the resistance to our power and by the steadily shrinking planet behind us. We push for a period of time and then rest. We are alone and the loneliness is terrible. We know now that life loves life and needs its presence. Experience our loneliness with us and value your fellows. Here there is no friendly life glow in the next establishment. There is only emptiness, a vast, aching void. And yet as we drift, moving at a speed that is beyond my meager comprehension, as the minds of our friends grow feeble in the distance, I exult, for we will achieve our goal. We will bring continued life to our world. I sing the song of Rack the Healer, called the New One, craving no special recognition for doing my duty, but asking the indulgence of my brothers and sisters, for we are lonely and we are going a vast distance from the glow of life and our homes and even as we trust in the goodness of nature we fear. I sing of my love, of the Power Giver Beautiful Wings, with whom I have joined to produce the life of a Keeper, thus contributing to the balance of nature's life. I sing of her beauty, her delicate scales of flashing colors and her slim legs of strength and her arms of warmth and her pink-tinged gills that remind me of the glory of her tinting. She is blessed with a delicate sense of joy in sharing my nature-given love. I sing of our union, for it lasted past the tinting and became deep. I sing of our togetherness as we merge and I share with her and heal the damages of raw sunlight. I inscribe her name on the records of our race, to be remembered, for she has risked much. She soared into the poison of the winter storms to find me, and now she joins me in this daring soar. I sing of Red Earth the Far Seer, who attended the ancient laws, thus following nature's design which led to this flight. May his life be long with many moments of pleasure with young and beautiful Keepers. To him I entrust my memory, my establishment, my nuggets of hard material. May he find beauty in the nuggets, for beauty is nature's gift to all, not simply to Healers. I sing of Shadow on the Moon the Far Seer, whose wisdom guided us and whose strong mind still comforts us, and of Gray Body the Far Seer, whose doubts made us work harder to seek this opportunity to save the race. I sing of Yellow Sky the Power Giver and remember gratefully her soars with me. I send her my thanks and my love and a wish for an early tinting and a production of life. The cold of space slows my thoughts. The burning sun makes ashes gather on my scales; I must shield Beautiful Wings from this cruel sun with my stronger body. The satellite grows in brightness, its shadows sharpen. It looms there, waiting with its gifts. I sing, reluctantly, of my doubts. I am weak and I fear, shudderingly, as sleep claims my companion, of finding emptiness. But should such disaster overtake us, weep not for Rack the Healer and Beautiful Wings the Power Giver, for we have enjoyed much and have known the awesome wheelings of the worlds from afar. Think, then, that this was a folly of man, not of nature, for the faith is kept as long as the life force is vibrant on our world. I sing of my hope, of anticipated greetings from fellow beings on our sister world in a place of sweet air and plentiful food and undiminished life. I sing of our return to bring hope and word of renewal. Or, if it be nature's wish, I sing of two alone on a vast world, building life. I add my thoughts to those of Rose the Healer, who was not the initial one but was young with our race, when the Old Ones were a fresh memory and their knowledge was not lost. I would that I could see the world as it was, young, with growing things and multiple forms of life. What a wondrous place it must have been. Perhaps we, at the end of our journey, will find such a place, replenish ourselves, and return to you with many secrets. And as I dream, I dream of moving the race to this fresh, new world where no one wants for air and the gentle sun warms even the frail, unprotected hides of the youngest and most tender Keepers. Many questions assault my mind. What can we, even if I am truly the New One, do all alone? Will there be a powerful life force on this new world to make us strong enough to once again soar across the emptiness and carry on my broad back all life to this wondrous new world? Our Breathers die, but the supply will be ample, for now we pass from the pull of the home world to the tug of the new world, growing steadily ahead of us. The senses of my love feel its power seize us and gradually speed us forward. The thoughts of Shadow on the Moon the Far Seer were accurate. We burn and freeze. My scales are coated with ash. Sadly, I sing of the weakness of my love. For she is being used, even with my healing. The strain, as we apply our power to slow ourselves, is felt to the core of my deepest cells, for I have used my reserves. My weight lessens. We are far from our home planet and feel the pull of the new world. I will breathe deeply of the air and eat of the broth held in reserve. I will send my strength into my love, healing her; I weep for her wasted substance, and for the first time, doubt our combined wisdom. Had we not chosen to venture into this vast cold we would be snugly established with the storms blowing. Selfishly, I dream of the time we would have had, even with a world dying about us, for we would have lived and blended our minds for our allotted span. But that is not to be. In the chill of a northern establishment, with the frost sparkling on the earth, we joined. Her breast buds were tender and sweet and I saw them suckled by our issue, by the Keeper whose name I do not know. And that is in our past. Weakened, we near our goal. It was fortunate that we brought just so much air, just so much broth, just so many Breathers, for the load has been great and the cold has drained us and ahead is the final surge of power. I rest fitfully. I dream of a new time of readiness. I see her scales flowering and see the emergence of the ruby beauty from deep within her. Even though I am awake, I dream. But no. My love tints. Even in her weakness there is about her lower regions a definite tint and a hint of flowering on the chest. It could only be nature's plan. I will tint. I feel the preliminary tinglings. Below, on a new world, we will find a union. It is nature's will. Are we then to stay, to build a life force on this new world? The voices of our minds are weak traveling far, hopefully to be gathered in by the combined mind-strength of the Far Seers. Below is a new world with deep valleys and high mountains. There are no clouds, leading us to think, brothers and sisters, that there is clean air below. As we send this last message of hope, we salute you. We see behind us our home, which although small is larger than the satellite as seen from the clean air above the clouds where we use to soar in joy. Behind us is our yellowish-purple home, a world swimming in deep space. Farewell, farewell. We will lower now to find our destiny. XIII Appended to the Book of Rack the New One by Red Earth the Far Seer, my thoughts. The principle of interplanetary soaring is proven and praise is due to all who were involved, but especially to Shadow on the Moon the Far Seer who sensed the movements of the worlds to such an accurate degree that the soar was made within the tolerance of our measurements. I record the time in pictures of sun circles, satellite movements, and tilt of the planet. I record the duration of the soar in terms of the rising and falling sun. I record minute cell counts and am amazed. Rack is, truly, the New One, for the expenditure of his substance was beyond the endurance of any Healer. The fo
regoing final segment of the Book of Rack the Healer was received by the combined minds of the Far Seers much as it is recorded, with interpolations by Deep Diver the Healer. These were necessary due to the weakness of the thoughts from far space, which were received sporadically, and were altered by the toxic storms. Yet it is felt that we have preserved the essence of the thoughts of Rack the New One. We wait. The survival factor allows little outside activity and the food stores dwindle. But a new beginning approaches and with the new beginning, as always, there is hope. As I wait I record thoughts that haunt me. I am especially impressed by one of the last clear pictures received. That tinting was in process is beyond doubt, for the excitement strengthened Rack's thoughts and made them clear. Could this mean that nature's plan is to establish life on the new world? To myself and to the private banks of my Keeper I confess that this is my belief, as indeed it was all along. Yet old beliefs die hard and still I hope that they will return with information, with ways of keeping life on the world. But the indications all tend to convince me that the New One was born to transplant the seed of life from this dying world to another, younger planet. But there is another fear. We received a picture of a clearly visible world. This is strange, for in all recorded history the air has been dense with clouds. We know that clouds contain many substances, most of which are apparently of little or no use to life. But what if some of those substances which cloud the air serve some small purpose? Would it be possible for life to exist and reproduce in a completely clean-aired world? I would have been happier to see a moderate cloud cover on the new world, our sister planet. My senses can penetrate the clouds that cover our world, can cover the vast picture of distance, and can measure the density of the earth of the satellite, it is earth, nothing more—solid rock. I cannot penetrate to the depths. I cannot detect the presence or lack of air or water or any other substance. I cannot, of course, detect the minute forms of life there, Rack the New One and Beautiful Wings the Power Giver. I can only wait. Perhaps, in time, other New Ones may spring forth. We search all the new-born Healers, trying to detect that strange, new area of the brain that gives Rack the New One his ability to merge physically with another. We have sacrificed the best sun circles of the life of a Power Giver to carry a message to our brothers across the sea, telling them of the New One, warning them to be on the lookout for others. But we find nothing. We wait. We can pleasure with our Keepers and forget for a short span of time, but there is always the outside, the growing toxicity, the failing survival factor. It is more and more evident that the fate of all life on this planet is dependent on the findings of Rack the New One in the distant reaches of space. XIV Ref: F-454-269-1933-B-555 X&A Restriction Code 2 Blink Priority Urgent-Urgent Origin: U.P.X. Pharos, Sector P-232, Capt. Bradley J. Gore Cmmd. Des: Exploration and Alien Search Headquarters, Sec. 1, Xanthos II, Attention urged High Admiral Jackson G. Sparks. Sub: III Planet, Life Zone Class Xanthos II sun, sector P-232. Inhabited Humanoid. N.Y. 30,456, Month 7, Day 14, U.P.X. Pharos, Capt. Bradley J. Gore, Cmmd., blink beaconed Chicago class star, position R-77.99, V-22.23, H-1.19, L-99.4, Sector P-232, Tri-Chart Ref. P-232-44. (See attached survey charts.) Short blink Expo, scouts Pharos IV and V, beginning Month 7, Day 16 resulted planetary sighting, system A Type, Month 8, Day 10. Star class Xanthos II, planets number 9, III planet life Zone A-l. (Attached survey chart position sun R-80.76, V-34.45, H-5.99, L-87.53.) Lifetype: Class I-B Humanoid. C-Scale. Questionable. (See attached Tri-Tape Personal-Personal Capt. Bradley J. Gore to High Admiral Jackson G. Sparks.) Possible T rating T-l or T-2, possible P-9 or P-10. Questionable rating explained: Non-metal culture, sub-atomic, but with extensive use of biological material formed from extracts from two insect forms, durable, radiation resistant, highly flexible use in building, making seldom-worn clothing and utilitarian objects. Planetary Conditions: Scale .99 Oxygen atmosphere, various heavy gases in lethal quantities. (See atmo-analysis attached.) Vegetation: limited. Soil Condition: critical. (See agri-analysis attached.) Life Scale: Under study. Technology: Limited production of aforementioned biological building material and liquid all-purpose food extracted from specific algal type sea plant. Language: None. Repeat. None. Communication via telepathic pictures. Population: Numbers unknown. Four distinct racial types living in symbiosis. Explanation of above: Preliminary hypno-contact indicates lack of number system. Thus, questions regarding population answered in imcomprehensible picture showing numbers estimated in thousands for population density. Difficulty reconciling pictures from alien minds with number system. (See Tri-Tape, Janti-III Planet Sector P-232.) Justification Blink Priority Urgent-Urgent: Humanoid life endangered by rapidly deteriorating planetary conditions. Oxygen replenishment factor:—.87. Atmospheric life factor, —10.09. Population factor:—4.68. Rec. U.P.X. Officer Cmmd.: Immediate contact. Transmigration III Planet, Sector P-232, Xanthos II type sun, position R-54.66, V-56.78, H-87.55, L-11.0. Signed: Bradley J. Gore, Capt, Cmmd. U.P.X. Pharos. Ref: F-454-269-1933-B-555 X&A Restriction Code 2 Blink Priority Urgent-Urgent Endorsements Blinkstat Capt. Bradley J. Gore, Cmmd., U.P.X. Pharos, Sector P-232. N.Y. 30,456, Month 12, Day 14. Smith, Adm., Cmmd. Sector P-232: Affirmative. Tarsus, Adm., Cmmd. P-Group 4 X&A: Affirmative. Larkins, H. Adm., Hdq. 2 Troup Z&A Pegram IV: Rec. furthur study. Note: Discretion H. Adm. Larkins, Hdq. 2 Troup X&A, Pegram IV, info, presented representative civilian board. Results: Inconclusive. Evers, Jonathan, H. Adm. (R), President Xanthos U.: Rec. further study . Parthin, Avery (Miss), President's Board Applied Humanity, U.P. Central: Rec. affirmative request Capt. Bradley J. Gore. Bragg, Amos, Chm. Board Natural Resources, U.P. Central: Rec. hearing before Combined Congress, U.P. Fulton, Gregory, Asst. Pres. George O. Borne, U.P. Central: Rec. detailed study planetary conditions. Ref: F-454-269-1933-B-555 X&A Restriction Code P. Personal 1-A Blink Priority Urgent-Urgent Personal-Personal Origin: Sector P-232, U.P.X Pharos, Capt. Bradley J. Gore, Cmmd. Des: Personal-Personal High Adm. Jackson G. Sparks, X&A Hdq. Sect. 1, Xanthos II. (Transcript verbal content Tri-Tape Personal-Personal Ref. F-454-269-1933-B-555-AX34. Admiral, I know this is highly irregular, but you know me from way back. You've always said that I didn't like to follow the system and that is explanation enough, I suppose, for the rank that I hold. I like to think that I'm a man who dislikes the planetary piles of red tape which have been thrown up around Exploration and Alien Search work. Now I know you're already saying, «Same old Brad.» I guess you're right. I've been known to go out on a limb. Remember the time I called a three buck pass in the championship game between the Academy and Xanthos U? We lost, but it was because some little bastard on the Xanthos team missed his assignment and was in the wrong grid and the ball hit him right in the chest. Well, I've always been a high roller, haven't I? Jack, I'm not used to this type of communication. I don't like looking into those glassy little eyes in front of me. I hope you'll excuse my appearance. I'm just in from planet-side. I really don't know where to start. Maybe I should begin about 75,000 New Years back. I know you're a student of history, but please be patient with me—I'm not trying to refresh your memory. I just need to ramble a little until I get this thing straight in my mind. Besides, you own me. You're the bastard, if you'll pardon the familiarity, Admiral, who talked me into X&A in the first place when I had my mind set on Intersystem Transport, where the loot is. You turned me on with that summer trip to old Terra II. Damn, my back still aches when I think of the digging we did. Remember? We were camped there on that ruined world beside a river that had been killed and that never had the chance to come back to life. We speculated about what kind of junk they dumped into it—it was still dead a few millennia after the last people had given up trying to revive the world and left it for greener places. We couldn't believe it was possible to kill a planet, but there was the proof and we decided that it was a phase we went through as a race. I remember how the soil had all been eroded away, how the rock stuck through like bare bones, and how there was almost no vegetation. But remember, Jack, dead as Terra II was, how there was life on her? There were crawling
things and flying things and there was air, even if it did stink. I've had a lot of time, during these past few weeks while that fruity little telepath you stuck me with has been lifting the skulls of these poor bastards on this Godforsaken little planet, for thinking and I remember what we talked about. We talked about the destiny of the race and we always went back, if you remember, to that big question of who the hell are we? You're supposed to stop asking that question when you leave the college soph coffee tables, but I think the whole X&A program is just another way of phrasing it. And I'm amazed that we haven't found an answer. Hell, we've been in space for thirty thousand years and we still don't know whether or not we had parents or whether we were just laid out on a flat rock in the sun somewhere. I've been thinking about the way you explained our inability to trace our racial origin. You said that the average man can't even tell you his great grandfather's name, and damn it, you were right. I couldn't tell you mine. You said that when a man can't even remember his great-grandfather's name, it isn't odd that a race can't trace its origin back some 75,000 N.Y. When I went back to the Academy and started digging into the records you said that all the trouble could have been saved if one of my ancestors had taken the trouble to write down the names of his ancestors and passed the list down to his kids. But no one thought of that in my family and no one thought of it in the race. We have only a few old legends. We came from space. That much is sure. We've done enough work on the home planet, old Terra II—and the name alone is indicative of the fact that there must have been a Terra I—to know that until our race came there and unloaded a regular zoo of life on her, she was a barren planet. Life began on Terra II 75,000 N.Y. ago. And on all the other planets we've settled in 30,000 N.Y. we've found only enough life to fill a thimble. But now we've hit the jackpot. I had to laugh when I filled in that official report. I've done it a hundred times and I've never had anything to write in answer to the questions about life other than data about some weird bugs and nutty plants. And this is a good indication of the fact that I'm not all wrong when I say that there's too much red tape in the program. How many hundreds of sheets of blinkstat paper have been wasted on those blank pages regarding life? How much does it cost to blink a stat from four hundred light-years away? The point is, I guess, that we thought there'd be a time when those blanks regarding life on a new planet would be needed. Or we hoped so. Man, it sent a chill through me when I inked it in: Lifetype: Class 1-B Humanoid. And I can feel the vibrations caused by those words all the way out here. I'll bet my report has been fingered by everyone from old George Borne down to the office boy in X&A Headquarters and I'll bet the paranoid types are messing their pants. I've got a pretty good cross-section of society right here in my own crew and I think I've got a good idea of what the reaction was out there on the home worlds. I'm telling you this, Jack. These poor bastards on this sad little planet are not the ones who shot up those central galaxy worlds we stew about so much. I've seen those worlds. I've walked the streets of the dead cities. You and I both know that the people who built those cities were not even vaguely humanoid. Those ruined worlds have nothing to do with this situation, and I hope you'll keep reminding people of that. Those cats there in the thick stars were blood-thirsty sons-of-bitches, and we've been having nightmares ever since the first X&A ship came back and showed us the pictures and the message they found burned into the skin of one of the planets: Look on this, ye who aspire, and quake. Build not, for we shall return. It's enough to give you the creeps, I'll admit. Twenty worlds killed. Up to 200 billion beings done in. And our quaking isolationists think that every time we go out on a mission we're going to run head on into the planet-killers. But you know my views on this; I think they did themselves in. Our explorations of those worlds uncovered nothing to indicate that they had developed anything half as sophisticated as the blink drive. The worlds they inhabited were packed together around five suns in the same neighborhood. We've had ships all over this fucking galaxy and found only those twenty dead planets out there toward the center behind that big beautiful grouping of New York type stars. We haven't covered every star system in the galaxy, not by a long shot, but a civilization that could do what they did would be able to detect our ships if they came within four hundred light-years the way a blinking ship sends signals ahead of itself through the continuum. So I'm going to be damned unhappy if you people back there at headquarters let those fear-ridden isolationists delay a decision on this thing until it's too late. I suppose I wouldn't be surprised if that happened. God knows, I'm not surprised at anything we do. Besides even if those planet-killers did come sweeping in from a neighborhood galaxy breathing fire and shooting up worlds, we're not completely without a defense, you know. For 15,000 N.Y. we've been so worried about those dead bastards that we've spent a pile of loot working on weapons we've never had a need for. You know the line—if they could kill a planet, we had to be able to kill a planet. We bewail their cruelty, but we're not entirely without aggressive tendencies ourselves. Our history shows that. So far we've not destroyed entire worlds, but we sure cut the population when Zede IV came up with that fascist nut who was going to establish an empire. We've got some blood on our hands, too. We go armed. Hell, I've got enough weapons aboard an Expo ship to handle a fleet of those planet killers and shoot up a dozen worlds while doing it. I've never had to use a single popgun and I pray I don't ever have to, but I've got them and I would use them if necessary. But we've been good boys and girls for a few thousand N.Y. and we haven't killed anyone except in accidents and occasional cases of psychopathic murder or something. We've spread ourselves from asshole to appetite all over this arm of the galaxy and we're breeding as fast as we can to settle more worlds. I think I heard someone say that new world settlement requests come into United Planet Central at the rate of about five a year. We're pretty prolific. There are a hell of a lot of us, and we're still suffering from two afflictions. One, we're lonely. In our billions, we're all alone. We can't understand why there's no life in this galaxy except us. We're always looking for it and we're always scared we're going to find it in the form of the planet-killers. This makes us hope and quake at the same time, being human, but we're curious enough to go on looking. We're so hungry for company we breed our dogs to be almost human and those scientists on Xanthos II breed sea mammals up to the communication level and go swimming around under the water talking with them. Well, I think a lot of people are thinking of X&A in terms of a search for human dogs. But what if we run into someone out here who is our equal? Not the planet-killers, but just a race that can stand up to us intellectually? Will we start shooting, unable to bear the competition? When this Dr. Feli Janti, the telepath from that mucked-up Belos II, discovered that these poor bastards here are way to hell and gone ahead of us in certain mental powers he panicked. Some of these people can, without a single number, picture in their heads a number of what they call sun circles equivalent to 100,000 of our old years. Janti came face to face with a guy who could manipulate his cells at the DNA level. He got pictures of others who could fly, or teleport, using some power we can't even measure. Janti went white. He shook. He turned to me and said, «Captain, I recommend that we sterilize the planet immediately.» Just like that, from one look into their minds. He was scared shitless. These people don't have a single weapon, offensive or defensive, and their only enemy is the planet itself, but that creep wanted to wipe them out lest they overpower us with their superior mental abilities. Jack, I know I'm taking up a lot of your time. I know you're damned busy flying that desk and painting scuff spots on the red tape. So I'll get down to it. We've seen some hell-holes together, Jack. Some of the places we checked out were pretty bad, but all of them are like paradise compared to this one. She's a hot one. She's greenhoused by a thick atmosphere and under it there's a lot of volcanic activity, just as if she'd been split by something right down to the mantle. At the poles, in the winter, there's
