 17 Do you mean what you said about giving up?" Leah asked. Brienne realized that she had stopped talking to Alv some time ago and had been listening to his conversation with Kraft. He shrugged, trying to put his feelings into words. We've tried, and almost succeeded. But if they won't listen, what can we do? What can one man possibly do against a fleet loaded with H-bombs? As if in answer to that question, Alv's voice drowned him out, the harsh disson words slashing the silence of the room. Kill you, the enemy, he said. Kill you, umedverk! He shouted the last word, and his hand flashed to his belt. In a single, swift motion he lifted his blow-gun and placed it to his lips. A tiny dart quivered in the already dead flesh of the creature in the Magter skull. The action had all the symbolism of a broken lance. The declaration of war. Alv understands it a lot better than you might think, Leah said. He knows things about symbiosis and mutualism that would give him a job as a lecturer in any university on earth. He knows just what the brain symbiote is and what it does. They even have a word for it, one that never appeared in our disson language lessons. A lifeform that you can live with or cooperate with is called a medverk. One that works to destroy you is a umedverk. He also understands that lifeforms can change and be medverk or umedverk at different times. He has just decided that the brain symbiote is umedverk, and he is out to kill it. So we'll arrest the dissents as soon as he can show them the evidence and explain. You're sure of this, Breanna asked, interested in spite of himself. Positive. The dissents have an absolute attitude toward survival. You should realize that. Not the same as the Magter, but not much different in the results. They will kill the brain symbiote, even if it means killing every Magter who harbors one. If that is the case, we can't leave now, Brienne said. With these words it suddenly became clear what he had to do. The ship is coming down now from the fleet. Get in it, and take the body of the Magter. I won't go. Where will you be, she asked, shocked. Fighting the Magter. My presence on the planet means that Kraft won't keep his threat to drop the bombs any earlier than the Midnight Deadline. That would be deliberately murdering me. I doubt if my presence past Midnight will stop him, but it should keep the bombs away at least until then. What will you accomplish besides committing suicide, Lea pleaded. You just told me how a single man can't stop the bombs. What will happen to you at Midnight? I'll be dead. But in spite of that I can't run away. Not now. I must do everything possible right up until the last instant. Alvin and I will go to the Magter Tower, try to find out if the bombs are there. He will fight on our side now. He may even know more about the bombs, things that he didn't want to tell me before. We can get help from his people. Some of them must know where the bombs are, being native to this planet. Lea started to say something but he rushed on, drowning out her words. You have just as big a job. Know the Magter to craft. Explain the significance of the brain parasite to him. Try to get him to talk to highs about the last raid. Try to get him to hold off the attack. I'll keep the radio with me, and as soon as I know anything I'll call in. This is all last resort, finger in the dike kind of stuff. But it is all we can do. Because if we do nothing, it means the end of dis. Lea tried to argue with him but he wouldn't listen to her. He only kissed her, and with a lightness he did not feel tried to convince her that everything would be all right. In their hearts they both knew it wouldn't be, but they left it that way because it was the least painful solution. A sudden rumbling shook the building and the windows darkened as a ship settled in the street outside. The Niger crew came in with guns pointed, alert for anything. After a little convincing they took the cadaver as well as Lea when they lifted ship. Lea and watched the spacer become a pinpoint in the sky and vanish. He tried to shake off the feeling that this was the last time he would see any of them. Let's get out of here fast, he told Alph, picking up the radio, before anyone comes around to see why the ship landed. What will you do, Alph asked, as he went down the street towards the desert? What can we do in the few hours we have left? He pointed at the sun, nearing the horizon. Lea and shifted the weight of the radio to his other hand before replying. Get to the Magter Tower we raided last night. That's the best chance. The bombs might be there, unless you know where the bombs are. Alph shook his head, I do not know, but some of my people may. We will capture a Magter then kill him so they can all see the Umidverk. Then they will tell us everything they know. The Tower first, then, for bombs or a sample Magter. What's the fastest way we can get there? All frowned and thought. If you can drive one of the cars the off-worlders use, I know where there are some locked in buildings in the city. None of my people know how they are made to move. I can work them, let's go. Chance was with him this time. The first sand car they found still had the keys in the lock. It was battery-powered but contained a full charge. Much quieter than the heavy atomic cars it sped smoothly out of the city and across the sand. Ahead of them the sun sank in a red wave of color. It was six o'clock. By the time they reached the Tower it was seven and Brienne's nerves felt as if they were writhing under his skin. Even though it looked like suicide attacking the Tower brought blessed relief. It was movement and action and for moments at a time he forgot the bombs hanging over his head. The attack was nerve-wrackingly anticlimactic. They used the main entrance, all of ranging soundlessly ahead. There was no one in sight. Once inside they crept down towards the lower rooms where the radiation had been detected. Only gradually did they realize the Magter Tower was completely empty. Everyone gone, all grunted, sniffing the air in every room they passed. Many Magter were here earlier, but they are gone now. Do they often desert their Towers, Brienne asked? Never. I have never heard of it happening before. I can think of no reason why they should do a thing like this. Well, I can, Brienne told him. They would leave their home if they took something with them of greater value. The bombs. If the bombs were hidden here they might move them after the attack. Sudden fear hit him. Or they might move them because it is time to take them to the Launcher. Let's get out of here the quickest way we can. I smell air from outside, all of said, coming from down there. This cannot be because the Magter have no entrances this low in their Towers. We blasted one in earlier, that could be it. Can you find it? Moonlight shone ahead as they turned an angle of the corridor, and stars were visible through the gaping opening in the wall. It looks bigger than it was, Brienne said, as if the Magter had enlarged it. He looked through and saw the tracks in the sand outside, as if they enlarged it to bring something bulky up from below, and carried it away in whatever made those tracks. Using the opening themselves they ran back to the Sandcar. Brienne ground it fiercely around and turned the headlights on the tracks. There were marks of a Sandcar's tread, half obscured by thin, unmarked wheel tracks. He turned off the lights, and forced himself to move slowly and to do an accurate job. A quick glimpse at his watch showed him there were four hours left to go. The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the tracks. Driving with one hand he turned on the radio transmitter, already set for craft's wavelength. When the operator acknowledged his signal, Brienne reported what they had discovered and his conclusions. Get that message to Commander Kraft now. I can't wait to talk to him. I'm following the tracks. He killed the transmission and stamped on the accelerator. The Sandcar churned and bounced down the track. They are going to the mountains, all said some time later, as the tracks still pointed straight ahead. There are caves there, and many Magter have been seen near them. That is what I have heard. The guess was correct. Before nine o'clock the ground humped into a range of foothills, and the darker masses of mountains could be seen behind them, rising up to obscure the stars. Stop the car here, all said. The caves began not too far ahead. There may be Magter watching or listening, so we must go quietly. Brienne followed the deep-cut grooves, carrying the radio. Ulf came and went on both sides, silently as a shadow, scouting for hidden watchers. As far as he could discover, there were none. By nine thirty Brienne realized they had deserted the Sandcar too soon. The tracks wound on and on, and seemed to have no end. They passed some caves which Ulf pointed out to him, but the tracks never stopped. Time was running out, and the nightmare stumbling through the darkness continued. Four caves ahead, Ulf said, go quietly. They came cautiously to the crest of a hill, as they had done so many times already, and looked into the shadow valley beyond. Sand covered the valley floor, and the light of the setting moon shone over the tracks at a flat angle, marking them off sharply as lines of shadow. They ran straight across the sand valley, and disappeared into the dark mouth of a cave on the far side. Looking back behind the hilltop, Brienne covered the pilot light with his hand, and turned on the transmitter. Ulf stayed above him, staring at the opening of the cave. This is an important message, Brienne whispered into the mic. Please record. He repeated this for thirty seconds, glancing at his watch to make sure of the time, since the seconds of waiting stretched to minutes in his brain. Brienne, as clearly as possible without raising his voice above a whisper, he told of the discovery of the tracks and the cave. The bombs may or may not be in here, but we are going in to find out. I'll leave my personal transmitter here with a broadcast power turned on so you can home on its signal. That will give you a directional beacon to find the cave. I'm taking the other radio in. It has more power. If we can't get back to the entrance, I'll try a signal from inside. I doubt you will hear it because of the rock, but I'll try. End of transmission. Don't try to answer me because I have the receiver turned off. There are no earphones on this set and the speaker would be too loud here. He switched off, held his thumb on the button for an instant, then flicked it back on. Goodbye, Leah, he said, and kill the power for good. They circled and reached the rocky wall of the cliff. Creeping silently in the shadows, they slipped up on the dark entrance of the cave. Nothing moved ahead, and there was no sound from the entrance of the cave. Breein glanced at his watch and was instantly sorry. Ten, thirty. The last shelter concealing them was five meters from the cave. They started to rise, to rush the final distance, when all of suddenly waved Breein down. Granted to his nose, then to the cave, he could smell the magter there. A dark figure separated itself from the greater darkness of the cave mouth. Alve acted instantly. He stood up and his hand went to his mouth, air hissed faintly through the tube in his hand. Without a sound the magter folded and fell to the ground. Before the body hit, Alve crouched low and rushed in. There was the sudden scuffling of feet on the floor, then silence. Breein walked in, gun-ready in alert, not knowing what he would find. His toe pushed against a body on the ground, and from the darkness, all whispered, There were only two, we can go on now. Finding their way through the cave was maddening torture. They had no light, nor would they dare use one if they had. There were no wheel-marks to follow the stone floor. Without Alve's sensitive nose they would have been completely lost. The cave branched and rejoined and they soon lost all sense of direction. Walking was almost impossible. They had to grope with their hands before them like blind men. Stumbling and falling against the rock, their fingers were soon throbbing and raw from brushing against rough walls. Alve followed the scent of the magter that hung in the air where they had passed. When it grew thin he knew they had left the frequently used tunnels and entered deserted ones. They could only retrace their steps and start again in a different direction. More maddening than the walking was the way time was running out. Inexorably the glowing hands crept around the face of Brienne's watch until they stood at fifteen minutes before twelve. There was a light ahead, Alve whispered, and Brienne almost gasped with relief. They moved slowly and silently until they stood, concealed by the darkness, looking out into a dome chamber brightly lit by glowing tubes. What is it, Alve asked, blinking in a painful wash of illumination after the long darkness? Brienne had to fight to control his voice, to stop from shouting. The cage with the metal webbing is a jump-space generator. The pointed silver shapes next to us are bombs of some kind. Probably the cobalt bombs. We found it. His first impulse was to instantly send the radio call that would stop the waiting fleet of H-bombers. But an unconvincing message would be worse than no message at all. He had to describe exactly what he saw here, so the Nigerters would know he wasn't lying. What he told them had to fit exactly with the information they already had about the launcher and the bombs. The launcher had been jury-rigged from a ship's jump-space generator. That was obvious. The generator and its controls were neatly cased and mounted. This ran from them to a roughly constructed cage of woven metal straps, hammered and bent into shape by hand. Three technicians were working on the equipment. Brienne wondered what sort of blood-thirsty war-lovers the Magdere had found to handle the bombing for them. Then he saw the chains around their necks and the bloody wounds on their backs. He still found it difficult to have any pity for them. They had obviously been willing to accept money to destroy another planet, or they wouldn't have been working here. They had probably rebelled only when they discovered how suicidal the attack would be. Thirteen minutes to midnight. Cradling the radio against his chest, Brienne rose to his feet. He had a better view of the bombs now. There were twelve of them, alike as eggs from the same deadly clutch, pointed like the bow of a spacer. Each one swept smoothly back for its two meters of length, to a sharply chopped off end. They were obviously incomplete, the warheads of rockets. One had its base turned towards him and he saw six projecting studs that could be used to attach it to the missing rocket. A circular inspection port was open in the flat base of the bomb. This was enough. With this description the Niger orders would know he couldn't be lying about finding the bombs. Once they realized this, they couldn't destroy this without first trying to neutralize them. Brienne carefully counted fifty paces before he stopped. He was far enough from the cavern so he couldn't be heard, and an angle of the cave cut out all light from behind him. With carefully controlled movements he turned on the power, switched the set to transmit, and checked the broadcast frequency. All correct. Then, slowly and clearly, he described what he had seen in the cavern behind him. He kept his voice emotionless, recounting facts, leaving out anything that might be considered an opinion. It was six minutes before midnight when he finished. He thumbed the switch to receive and waited. There was only silence. Slowly the empty quality of the silence penetrated his numbed mind. There were no crackling atmospherics nor hiss of static even when he turned the power full on. The mass of rock and earth of the mountain above was acting as a perfect grounding screen, absorbing his signal even at maximum output. They hadn't heard him. The Nigerd fleet didn't know that the Cobalt bombs had been discovered before their launching. The attack would go ahead as planned. Even now the Bombay doors were opening, armed H-bombs hung above the planet, held in place only by their shackles. In a few minutes the signal would be given, and the shackles would spring open. The bombs dropped clear. KILLERS! Breein shouted into the microphone. You wouldn't listen to reason. You wouldn't listen to highs or me, or to any voice that suggested an alternative to complete destruction. You're going to destroy this, and it's not necessary. There were a lot of ways you could have stopped it. You didn't do any of them, and now it's too late. You'll destroy this, and in turn this will destroy Nigerd. Aijal said that, and now I believe him. You're just another damned failure in a galaxy full of failures. He raised the radio above his head and sent it crashing into the rock floor. Then he was running back to Alv, trying to run away from the realization that he too had tried and failed. The people on the surface of this had less than two minutes left to live. They didn't get my message, Breein said to Alv. The radio won't work this far underground. Then the bombs will fall, Alv asked, looking searchingly at Breein's face and the dim reflected light from the cavern. Unless something happens we know nothing about. The bombs will fall. They said nothing after that. They simply waited. The three technicians in the cavern were also aware of the time. They were calling to each other and trying to talk to the Magter. The emotionless, parasite-ridden brains of the Magter saw no reason to stop work and they attempted to beat the men back to their tasks. In spite of the blows they didn't go. They only gaped in horror as the clock hands moved remorselessly towards twelve. Even the Magter dimly felt some of the significance of the occasion. They stopped too and waited. The hour hand touched twelve on Breein's watch. Then the minute hand. The second hand closed the gap and for tenth of a second three hands were on one. Then the second hand moved on. Breein's immediate sensation of relief was washed away by the chilling realization that he was deep underground. Sound and seismic waves were slow and the flare of atomic explosions couldn't be seen here. If the bombs had been dropped at twelve they wouldn't know it at once. A distant rumble filled the air. A moment later the ground heaved under them and the lights in the cavern flickered. Fine dust drifted down from the roof above. Ulf turned to him, but Breein looked away. He could not face the accusation in the distance eyes. CHAPTER XVIII OF PLANTED OF THE DAMNED This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. PLANTED OF THE DAMNED by Harry Harrison, CHAPTER XVIII One of the technicians was running and screaming. The magter knocked him down and beat him into silence. Seeing this the other two men returned to work with shaking hands. Even if all life on the surface of the planet was dead this would have no effect on the magter. They would go ahead as planned, without emotion or imagination enough to alter their set course. As the technicians worked, their attitude changed from shock-numbness to anger. Right and wrong were forgotten. They had been killed. The invisible death of radiation must already be penetrating into the caves. But they also had the chance for vengeance. Swiftly they brought their work to completion, with the speed and precision they had concealed before. What are those off-worlders doing, all of asked? Briand stirred from his lethargy of defeat, and looked across the cavern floor. The men had a wheeled hand-truck and were rolling one of the atomic warheads onto it. They pushed it over to the latticework of the jump-field. They're going to bomb Nigerd now, just as Nigerd bombed Dis. That machine will hurl the bombs in a special way to the other planet. Will you stop them, all of asked? He had his deadly blow-gun in his hand, and his face was an expressionless mask. Briand almost smiled at the irony of the situation. In spite of everything he had done to prevent it, Nigerd had dropped the bombs. And this act alone may have destroyed their own planet. Briand had it within his power now to stop the launching in the cavern. Should he? Should he save the lives of his killers? Or should he practice the ancient blood oath that had echoed and destroyed down through the ages? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It would be so simple. He literally had to do nothing. The score would be even, and his and the Dison's death avenged. Did Ulf have his blow-gun ready to kill Briand with if he should try to stop the launchings? Or had he misread the Dison entirely? Will you stop them, Ulf? He asked. How large was mankind's sense of obligation? The caveman first had this feeling for his mate, then for his family. It grew until man fought and died for the abstract ideas of cities and nations, then for whole planets. With the time ever come when men might realize that the obligation should be to the largest and most encompassing reality of all, mankind, and beyond that to life of all kinds. Briand saw this idea, not in words, but as a reality. When he posed the question to himself in this way, he found that it stated clearly its inherent answer. He pulled his gun out, and as he did, he wondered what Ulf's answer might be. Niger des Medverk, Ulf said, raising his blow-gun and sending a dart across the cavern. Ulf struck one of the technicians, who gasped and fell to the floor. Briand's shots crashed into the control-board, shorting and destroying it, removing the menace to Niger for all time. Medverk, Ulf had said, a life-form that cooperates and aids other life-forms. It may kill in self-defense, but it is essentially not a killer or destroyer. Ulf had a lifetime of knowledge about the interdependency of life. He grasped the essence of the idea and ignored all of verbal complications and confusions. He had killed the Magter who were his own people because they were Umedverk, against life, and he had saved his enemies because they were Medverk. With this realization came the painful knowledge that the planet and the people that had produced this understanding were dead. In the cavern the Magter saw the destruction of their plans and the cave-mouth from which the bullets had come. Silently they rushed to kill their enemy, a concerted effort of emotionless fury. Briand and Ulf fought back. Even the knowledge that he was doomed no matter what happened could not resign Briand to death at the hands of the Magter. To Ulf the decision was much easier. He was simply killing Umedverk, a believer in life he destroyed, the anti-life. They retreated into the darkness, still firing. The Magter had lights and ion rifles and were right behind them. Knowing the caverns better than the men they chased, the pursuers circled. Briand saw lights ahead and dragged Ulf to a stop. They know their way through these caves and we don't, he said. If we try to run they'll just shoot us down. Let's find a spot we can defend and settle into it. Back here Ulf gave a tug in the right direction. There is a cave with only one entrance and that is very narrow. Let's go. Running as silently as they could in the darkness they reached the deadened cavern without being seen. What noise they made was lost in other footsteps that sounded and echoed through the connecting caves. Once inside they found cover behind a ridge and waited. The end was certain. The Magter ran swiftly into their cave, flashing his light into all the places of concealment. The beam passed over the two hidden men and, at the same instant, Briand fired. The shot boomed loudly as the Magter fell, a shot that would surely have been heard by others. Before anyone else came into the cave, Briand ran over and grabbed the still functioning light. Propping it on the rock so it shone on the entrance, he hurried back to shelter behind Ulf. They waited for the attack. It was not long in coming. Two Magter rushed in and died. More were outside, Briand knew, and he wondered how long it would be before they remembered the grenades and rolled one into their shelter. An indistinct murmur sounded outside and sharp explosions. In their hiding place Briand and Ulf crouched low and wondered why the attack didn't come. Then one of the Magter came in the entrance, but Briand hesitated before shooting. The man had backed in, firing behind him as he came. Ulf had no compunctions about killing, only his darts couldn't penetrate the Magter's thick clothing. As the Magter turned, Ulf's breath pulsed once and death stung the back of the other man's hand. He collapsed into a crumpled heap. Don't shoot, a voice called from outside the cave, and a man stepped through the swirling dust and smoke to stand in the beam from the light. Briand clutched wildly at Ulf's arm, dragging the blowgun from the distance mouth. The man in the light wore a protective helmet, thick boots, and a pouch-hung uniform. He was a Niger. The realization was almost impossible to accept. Briand had heard the bombs fall, yet the Niger's soldier was here. The two facts couldn't be accepted together. Would you keep a hold on his arm, sir, just in case? The soldier said, glancing warily at Ulf's blowpipe, I know what those darts can do. He pulled a microphone from one of his pockets and spoke into it. More soldiers crowded into the cave, and Professor Commander Kraft came in behind them. He looked strangely out of keeping in the dusty combat uniform. The gun was even more incongruous in his blue-veined hand. After giving the pistol to the nearest soldier with an air of relief, he stumbled quickly over to Briand and took his hand. It is a profound and sincere pleasure to meet you in person, he said, and your friend Ulf as well. Would you kindly explain what is going on, Briand said thickly? He was obsessed by the strange feeling that none of this could possibly be happening. We will always remember you as the man who saved us from ourselves, Kraft said, once again the Professor instead of the commander. What Briand wants are facts, grandpa, not speeches, I said. The bent form of the leader of the rebel Niger army pushed through the crowd of taller men until he stood next to Kraft. Simply stated, Briand, your plan succeeded. Kraft relayed your message to me, and as soon as I heard it I turned back and met him on his ship. I'm sorry that tells death, but he found what we were looking for. I couldn't ignore his report of radioactive traces. Your girlfriend arrived with a hacked up corpse at the same time I did, and we all took a long look at the green leech in its skull. Her explanation of what it is made significant sense. We were already carrying out landings when we had your call about something having been stored in the Magter Tower. After that it was just a matter of following tracks, and the transmitter you planted. But the explosion said midnight, Briand broke in, I heard them. You were supposed to, and highs laughed. Not only you, but the Magter in this cave. We figured they would be armed and the cave strongly defended. So at midnight we dropped a few large chemical explosive bombs at the entrance. Enough to kill the guards without bringing the roof down. We also hoped that the Magter deeper in would leave their posts or retreat from imagined radiation, and they did. It worked like a charm. We came in quietly and took them by surprise, made a clean sweep, killed the ones we couldn't capture. One of the renegade jump-space technicians was still alive, Craft said. He told us about your stopping the bombs aimed at Nijord, the two of you. None of the Nijorders there could add anything to his words, not even the cynical highs. But Briand could empathize their feelings, the warmth of their intense relief and happiness. It was a sensation he would never forget. There is no more war, Briand translated for Ulf, knowing that the dissent had understood nothing of the explanation. As he said it he realized there was one glaring error in the story. You couldn't have done it, Briand said. You landed on this planet before you had my message about the tower. That means you still expected the Magter to be sending their bombs to Nijord, and you made the landings in spite of this knowledge. Of course, Professor Craft said, astonished at Briand's lack of understanding. What else could we do? The Magter are sick. Highs laughed aloud at Briand's baffled expression. You have to understand Nijord's psychology, he said. When it was a matter of war and killing, my planet could never agree on an intelligent course. War is so alien to our philosophy that it couldn't even be considered correctly. That's the trouble with being a vegetable eater in a galaxy of carnivores. You're easy prey for the first one that lands on your back. Any other planet would have jumped on the Magter with both feet and shaken the bombs out of them. We fumbled it so long it almost got both worlds killed. Your mind parasite drew us back from the brink. I don't understand, Briand said. A simple matter of definition. Before you came we had no way to deal with a Magter here on diss. They really were alien to us. Nothing they did made sense, and nothing we did seemed to have the slightest effect on them. But you discovered that they were sick, and that's something we know how to handle. We're united again. My rebel army was instantly absorbed into the rest of the Nijord forces by mutual agreement. Doctors and nurses are on the way here now. Plans were put under way to evacuate what part of the population we could until the bombs were found. The planet is united again, and working hard. Because the Magter is sick, infected by a destructive life form, Briand asked. Exactly so, Professor Kraft said. We are civilized, after all. You can't expect us to fight a war, and you surely can't expect us to ignore the plight of sick neighbors. No, you surely can't, Briand said, sitting down heavily. He looked at all to whom the speech had been incomprehensible. Against him, High's war's most cynical expression is he considered the frailties of his people. High, as Briand called out, you translate all that into dissent and explain to Alve, I wouldn't dare. CHAPTER XIX OF PLANET OF THE DAMNED. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. PLANET OF THE DAMNED by Harry Harrison, CHAPTER XIX. Dis was a floating golden ball, looking like a schoolroom globe in space. No clouds obscured its surface, and from this distance it seemed warm and attractive set against the cold darkness. Briand almost wished he were back there now, as he sat shivering inside the heavy coat. He wondered how long it would be before his confused body-temperature controls decided to turn off the summer adjustment. He hoped it wouldn't be as sudden or as drastic as turning it on had been. DELECATE AS A DREAM. Leah's reflection swam in space next to the planet. She had come up quietly behind him in the Spaceship's corridor, only her gentle breath and mirrored face telling him she was there. He turned quickly, and took her hands in his. You're looking infinitely better, he said. Well, I should, she said, pushing back her hair in an unconscious gesture with her hand. I've been doing nothing but lying in the ship's hospital while you were having such a fine time this last week, rushing around down there, shooting all the Manchester. Just gassing them, he told her. The Nye orders can't bring themselves to kill any more, even if it does raise their own casualty rates. In fact, they are having difficulty restraining the dissons led by Ulf, who are happily killing any Manchester they see as being pure Umedverg. What will they do when they have all those frothing Manchester madmen? They don't know yet, he said. They won't really know until they see what an adult Manchester is like with his brain parasite dead and gone. They're having better luck with the children. If they can catch them early enough, the parasite can be destroyed before it has done too much damage. Leah shuddered delicately and let herself lean against him. I'm not that sturdy yet. Let's sit down while we talk. There was a couch opposite the viewport where they could sit and still see diss. I hate to think of a Manchester deprived of a symbiote, she said. If his system can stand the shock, I imagine there will be nothing left except a brainless hulk. This is one series of experiments I don't care to witness. I rest secure in the knowledge that the Nye orders will find the most humane solution. I'm sure they will, Breone said. Now what about us? She said disconcertingly, leaning back in his arms. I must say you have the highest body temperature of any one I have ever touched. It's positively exciting. This jarred Breone even more. He didn't have her ability to put past horrors out of the mind by substituting present pleasures. Well, just what about us? He said, with masterful inappropriateness. She smiled as she leaned against him. You weren't as vague as that the night in the hospital room. I seem to remember a few other things you said, and did. You can't claim you're completely indifferent to me, Breone Brand, so I'm only asking you what any outspoken envarian girl would. Where do we go from here? Get married? There was a definite pleasure in holding her slight body in his arms, and feeling her hair against his cheek. They both sensed it, and this awareness made his word sound that much more ugly. Leah, darling, you know how important you are to me. But you certainly realize that we could never get married. Her body stiffened, and she tore herself away from him. Why, you great, fat, egotistical slab of meat! What do you mean by that? I like you, Leah. We have plenty of fun and games together. But surely you realize that you aren't the kind of girl that one takes home to m- Leah, hold on! He said, you know better than to say a thing like that. What I said has nothing to do with how I feel towards you. But marriage means children, and you are a biologist enough to know about Earth's genes. Intolerant yokel, she cried, slapping his face. He didn't move or attempt to stop her. I expected better from you, with all your pretensions of understanding. But all you can think of are the horror stories about worn-out genes of Earth. You are the same as every other big, strapping bigot from the frontier planets. I know how you look down on our small size. Our allergies, our hemophilia, and all the other weaknesses that have been bred back and preserved by the race. You hate, but that's not what I meant at all. He interrupted, shocked, his voice drowning hers out. Yours are the strong genes, the viable strains. Mine are the deadly ones. A child of mine would kill itself and you in a natural birth, if it managed to live to term. You are forgetting that you are the original Homo sapiens. I'm a recent mutation. Maria was frozen by his words. They revealed the truth she had known but would never permit herself to consider. Earth is home, the planet where mankind developed, he said. The last few thousand years you may have been breeding weaknesses back into the genetic pool, but that's nothing compared to the hundreds of millions of years that it took to develop man. How many newborn babies live to be a year of age on Earth? Why, almost all of them. A fraction of one percent die each year. I can't recall how many. Earth is home, he said again gently. When men leave home they can adapt to different planets. But a price must be paid. A terrible price is in dead infants. The successful mutations live, the failures die. Natural selection is a brutally simple affair. When you look at me you see a success. I have a sister, a success too. Yet my mother had six other children who died when they were still babies. And several others that never came to term. You know about these things, don't you, Leah? I know, I know, she said, sobbing into her hands. He held her now and she didn't pull away. I know it all as a biologist, but I am so awfully tired of being a biologist and the top of my class in a mental match for any man. When I think about you, I do it as a woman and can't admit any of this. I need someone, Breone. And I needed you so much because I loved you. She paused and wiped her eyes. You're going home, aren't you? Back to Anvar. When? I can't wait too long, he said, unhappily. Aside from my personal wants, I find myself remembering that I'm a part of Anvar. When you think of the number of people who suffered and died or adapted so that I could be sitting here now, well, it's a little frightening. I suppose it doesn't make sense logically that I should feel indebted to them, but I do. Anything I do now or in the next few years won't be as important as getting back to Anvar. And I won't be going back with you." It was a flat statement the way she said it. Not a question. No. You won't be, he said. There is nothing on Anvar for you. Leah was looking out the port at dis. And her eyes were dry now. Way back in my deeply buried unconscious I think I knew it would end this way. She said, If you think you're a little lecture on the origins of man was a novelty, it wasn't. It just reminded me of a number of things my glands had convinced me to forget. In a way I envy you, your weightlifter wife to be and your happy kitties, but not very much. Very early in life I resigned myself to the fact that there was no one on earth I would care to marry. I always had these teenage dreams of a hero from space who would carry me off, and I guess I slipped you into that pattern without realizing it. I'm old enough now to face the fact that I like my work more than a banal marriage, and I'll probably end up a frigid and virtuous old maid, with more degrees and titles than you have shot-putting records. As they looked through the port, disc began slowly to contract. Their ship drew away from it, heading towards Nyord. They set apart, without touching now. Leaving disc meant leaving behind something they had shared. They had been strangers together there, on a strange world. For a brief time their lifelines had touched. That time was over now. Don't we look happy, his said, shambling towards them. All dead and make me even happier then, Lea snapped bitterly. His ignored the acid tone of her words, and sat down on the couch next to them. Since leaving the command of his rebel Nyord army, he seemed much mellower. Going to keep on working for the Cultural Relationships Foundation? Breone? He asked. You're the kind of man we need. Breone's eyes widened as the meaning of the last words penetrated. Are you in the CRF? Field Agent for Nyord? He said. I hope you don't think those helpless office types like Fossil or Merv really represented us there. They just took notes and acted as a front and cover for the organization. Nyord is a fine planet, but a gentle guiding hand behind the scenes is needed to help them find their place in the galaxy before they are pulverized. What's your dirty game, his, Lea asked, scowling? I've had enough hints to suspect for a long time that there was more to the CRF than the sweetness and light part I have seen. People, egomaniacs, power-hungry, or what? That's the first charge that would be leveled at us if our activities were publicly known, his told her. That's why we do most of our work undercover. The best fact I can give you to counter the charge is money. Just where do you think we get the funds for an operation this size? He smiled at their blank looks. You'll see the records later, so there won't be any doubt. The truth is that all our funds are donated by planets we have helped. Even a tiny percentage of a planetary income is large. Add enough of them together, and you have enough money to help out other planets. And voluntary gratitude is a perfect test if you stop to think about it. You can't talk people into liking what you have done. They have to be convinced. There have always been people on CRF Worlds who knew about our work and agreed with it enough to see that we are kept in funds. Why is it you are telling me all the super-secret stuff? Lea asked. Isn't it obvious? We want you to keep on working for us. You can name whatever salary you like. As I said, there is no shortage of cash. His glanced quickly at them both and delivered the clinching argument. I hope Breone will go on working with us, too. He is the kind of field agent we desperately need, and it is almost impossible to find. Just show me where to sign, Lea said. And there was life in her voice once again. I wouldn't exactly call it blackmail, Breone smiled. But I suppose a few people can juggle planetary psychologies. You must find that individuals can be pushed around like chessmen, though you should realize that very little pushing is required this time. Will you sign on? His asked. I must go back to Anvar, Breone said. But there really is no pressing hurry. Earth, said Lea, is overpopulated enough as it is. End of Chapter 19 End of Planet of the Damned