Beyond Pandora by Robert J. Martin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jerome Lawson, February 2008. Beyond Pandora by Robert J. Martin. The ideal way to deal with a pest, any menace, is of course to make it useful to you. The doctor's pen paused over the chart on his desk. This is your third set of teeth, I believe? His patient nodded. That's right, doctor, but they were pretty slow coming in this time. The doctor looked up quizzically. Is that the only reason you think you might need a booster shot? Oh no, of course not. The man leaned forward and placed one hand palm up on the desk. Last year I had an accident. Stupid. Lost a thumb. He shrugged apologetically. Took him all six months to grow back. Thoughtfully the doctor leaned back in his chair. Hmm, I see. As the man before him made an involuntary movement toward his pocket the doctor smiled.  Picking up the chart he murmured. Six months. Much too long. Strange we didn't catch that at the time. He read silently for a few moments, then began to fill out a form clipped to the folder. Well, I think you probably are due for another booster about now. There will have to be the usual tests. Not that there's much doubt. We like to be certain. The middle aged man seemed relieved. Then on second thought he hesitated uneasily. Why? Is there any danger? Amusement flickered across the doctor's face, then turned smoothly into a reassuring half-smile. Oh no, there's absolutely no danger involved. None at all. We have tissue regeneration pretty well under control now. So, I'm sure you understand that accurate records and data are very necessary for further research and progress. Reissured, the patient thought and became confidential. I see. Well, I suppose it's kind of silly, but I don't much like shots. It's not that they hurt. It's just that I guess I'm old fashioned. I still feel kind of creepy about the whole business. Slightly embarrassed, he paused and asked defensively. Is that unusual? The doctor smiled openly now. Not at all. Not at all. Things have moved pretty fast in the past few years. I suppose it takes people's emotional reactions a while to catch up with developments that, logically, we accept as a matter of fact. He pushed his chair back from the desk. Maybe it's not too hard to understand. Take fire, for example. Man lived in fear of fire for a good many hundred thousand years, and rightly so, because he hadn't learned to control it. The principle is the same. First you learn to protect yourself from the thing, then control it, and eventually we learn to harness it for a useful purpose. He gestured toward the man's cigarette. Even so, man still instinctively fears fire, even while he uses it. In the case of tissue regeneration, where the change took place so rapidly, in just a generation or so, that instinctive fear is even more understandable, although quite as unjustified, I assure you. The doctor stood up, indicating that the session was ending. While his patient scrambled to his feet, hastily putting out his cigarette, the physician came around the desk. He put his hand on the man's shoulder. Relax. Take it easy. Nothing to worry about. This is a wonderful age we live in. Barring a really major accident, there's no reason you shouldn't live at least another 75 years. After all, that's a very remarkable viral complex we have doing your repair work. As they walked to the door, the man shook his head. Guess you're right, Doc. It's certainly done a good job so far, and I guess your specialists know what you're doing. Even if folks don't understand it. At the door, he paused and half turned to the doctor. But say, something I meant to ask you. This stuff, or this vaccine. Where did it come from? Seems to me I heard somewhere that way back before you fellas got it tamed, it was something else. Dangerous. There was another name for it. Do you know what I mean? The doctor's hand tightened on the doorknob. Yes, I know. He said grimly. But not many laymen remember. Just keep in mind what I told you. With any of these things, the pattern is protection, then control, then useful application. He turned to face his patient. Back in the days before we put it to work for us, rebuilding tissue, almost ending aging and disease, the active basis for our vaccine caused a whole group of diseases in itself. Returning the man's searching gaze, the doctor opened the door. They've come a long way since then. You see, he said quietly. In those days they called it Cancer. End of Beyond Pandora by Robert J. Martin. Recording by Jerome Lawson, February 2008. The Infra-Medians. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by John Larmer. The Infra-Medians by Sewell Peasley Wright. Into a land of shadows and lost souls goes Pete Graham in search of his hapless friends. There is no sense to the note, there is no sense to anything that Vic Butler did for that matter, where he hid away his vast scientific knowledge in that rattle-brained red-haired head of his has always been a mystery to me. The note read. Dear Pete, if you get this, I am in a jam that promises some action. Drive out, if plain peddling is palling on you, and bust into the lab.  The gat along, and plenty of ammo, hopes away at Aunt Cleo's, so don't get in touch with her and spoil her visit. Vic. I had a hot prospect lined up for a demonstration that morning, but I didn't even stop to give him a ring. Vic and I had been buddies ever since we were kids, and besides he was Hope's brother. Vic's place was out on the river, about ten miles from town, and that little tan roadster of mine made it in just about ten minutes. The traffic in the business district slowed me up a bit. There was nothing at all pretentious about the place. It was a rambling, lazy-looking house built largely of native stone, stretching its length comfortably in the shade of the big maples. Perrin, Vic's man of all work, came hurrying out of the house to greet me as I locked my wheels on the drive before the door. I'm glad you're here, sir," he exclaimed breathlessly. I was just about to phone for the police. I was for certain, sir. Such goings-on, I don't know what to think. What's the matter, Perrin? Where's Mr. Butler? Well, that's it, sir. That's exactly it. Where's Mr. Butler, and— Just a moment, please. Cut it short, Perrin. What's happened? I don't know. Yesterday afternoon Mr. Butler leaves a letter for me, which I'm to mail early this morning, special delivery. It's to you. I reckon you got it, sir. That's why I'm here. Go on. Well, after that he locks himself up in his workroom, so Mrs. Perrin says she'd be in the housekeeper, as you know, sir, leaving word not to disturb him for dinner. We don't think so much of that, Mr. Butler being took with streaks of working at all hours, as you know. But when Miss Hope came home, unexpected this morning—what? She cut her visit a few days short, her aunt having other house guests turn up unexpected like— and Miss Hope arrives first thing this morning, being here when I return from town after mailing the letter to use her. Mrs. Perrin had just told her about the master, and Miss Hope looks into his room. He isn't there, and the bed hasn't been slept in.  I'll let him sleep. But just a few minutes ago, just before you arrived, sir, she became nervous like and wrapped on the door. There wasn't a sound, so she went up to the master's room and found a key and went in. And now she don't answer, and we were just about ready to call the police. Let's go inside. I hurried by Perrin and threw the cool, quiet hall to the broad door that opened into the big room at the back of the house, which was Vic's laboratory. Vic! Hope! I pounded as hard as I could, shouting their names, and there was no response. Is there another key, Perrin? I snapped. No, sir, none that I know of. The master was mighty fussy about his workroom. Can we get in through the windows? No, they're barred, if you remember rightly, and fitted with this frosted glass, so you can't see any even. Then get me an axe, I commanded, quick. An axe, hesitated Perrin, an axe, and be quick about it. Perrin mumbled a protest and hurried away. I turned to Mrs. Perrin, who had come up to determine the result of my shouting. How long is it since Miss Hope went in there? How long, sir?  Maybe twenty-five. I wasn't paying any particular attention, sir. She just got the key and went in. After a few minutes I heard something buzzing in there, and I thought maybe Mr. Butler was showing her some new gadget of his, like he was always doing. Then there was a telephone call for him, and I couldn't make neither of them answer. That's when Mr. Perrin and I began to get worried. I see. Perrin came hurrying up with the axe, and I motioned them aside. I swung the axe, and the head of the weapon crashed against the lock. The knob dropped to the floor with a clatter, but the door gave not at all. I brought the axe down again, and something cracked sharply, and the third blow sent the door swinging wide. Cautiously, fearing I know not what, I entered the familiar room. Nothing, apparently, had been disturbed. There was no sign of disorder anywhere. The blankets on the narrow cot in the corner of the room had not been unfolded. But neither Vic nor Hope were anywhere in sight. You and Mrs. Perrin stay hit there by the door, I suggested. I don't know what's wrong here, but something's happened. There's no need for all of us entering. My second glance around the room was more deliberate. To my right there were big generators and the switchboards, gleaming with copper bus-bar and intricate with their torturous wiring. Directly before me was the long workbench that ran the full length of the room, littered with a dozen setups for as many experiments. At my left was a sizable piece of apparatus that was strange to me. On a small enameled table beside it was a rather large sheet of paper weighted down with a cracked Florence flask. In a sort of panic I snatched up the paper. Vic had said in his note that he would leave another note for me here, and this was it, for in a bold scrawl at the top was my name, and in hardly decipherable script below was this message. Dear Pete, first of all let me say that you've no particular call to do anything about this. If I'm in a jam it's my own doing, and due to my bullheadedness of which you have so often reminded me. Knowing your dislike for science other than that related to aeronautics, I'll cut this pretty short.  You know that there's sound above the frequencies to which the human ear will respond. You know there are light rays that the human eyes can't perceive.  Well, I'm going to do a little exploring. I'm going to take a whirl at what I'll call the inframedian existence. What I'll find there, I don't know. Life of some kind, however, for my experiments prove that. Possibly not friendly. All this being so, there's an off chance that I'll find myself tangled with something I can't anticipate, and if you are called upon to read this, then something has gone wrong with my plans. Should you wish to take a flyer after me? Stand in the center of the square outlined by the four uprights of the device beside which this little table stands. Be sure your weapon, I told you to bring a gat, is on your person. There's a small instrument board set on one of the posts. Turn the upper of the two dials until the hand of the meter beside it moves up to 2700 exactly. Wait a moment until you're sure you have the exact reading. Then turn the second dial until the two red lines coincide, and as you do so, mark the time. The thing is set to operate the reverse cycle at three hour intervals exactly. When you come down, you'll start a new cycle, and it might be important for us to know at just what minute we can get back to our own plane. If you decide to try it, tell Perrin to do nothing for at least a week. If the law started experimenting on this equipment, we could never climb back, and leave word with them for hope. Tell her I'll scramble out somehow, that we will if you decide to try your luck. Vic. Underneath, in hope's clear, purposeful hand, was this. Dear Peter, not knowing when you'll arrive, I'm going on ahead. We must give Vic a hand, mustn't we? H. Naturally I didn't understand Vic's jargon about frequencies and light rays, for I thought more about football than physics in college. But two things were clear to me. One was that Vic had plunged into some sort of wild experiment, and the other was that hope had followed him. The rest didn't matter very much. Perrin! Mr. Butler and Miss Hope are safe. Everything is explained in this note. You and Mrs. Perrin are to leave me here and not disturb anything. Do nothing at all for at least a week. If we aren't all back here before that time, take any action you see fit. Understand? No, sir. You understand the orders, anyway. That's all that's necessary. Close the door, and keep it closed at least a week. I glared at him, and Perrin closed the door. The apparatus Vic had mentioned was my first thought. It consisted primarily of four tall, slim posts set in the form of a square about a yard apart, and supported by heavy copper brackets mounted on a thick base of insulating material, and each post bore at its top, like a stock with a single drooping flower, a deep, highly polished reflector pointing inward and downward. The whole effect was not unlike the skeleton of a miniature skyscraper. I strode between two of the high, slim black pillars and glanced upward. All four of the reflectors seemed pointed directly at my face, and I could see that each held not the bulb I had expected, but a crudely shaped blob of fused quartz. There is nothing to be gained by examining the peculiar machine, and therefore the one quick glance sufficed. If Vic and Hope had gone this route, I was anxious to follow. I glanced down at the papers in my hand, and slowly turned the first dial on the little instrument board, narrowly watching the hand of the meter beside it, as Vic had instructed. The hand moved slowly, like the hand of an oil gauge in which the pressure is gradually built up. 21, 25, 26, 27. I waited a moment, conscious only of the faint hum of a generator at the other end of the room, and the quivering hand of the meter. I turned the dial back in imperceptible degree, and the hand steadied down exactly upon the numeral's 2700. Then I touched the next dial. This second dial was no more than a thin disk of hard rubber or bakelite with a red scratch mark on one side. On the panel itself, far to the right of the dial's zero point, was the red scratch mark that matched it. When the two coincided—well, something happened—I was conscious of a faint glow from above as I moved the dial slowly so that its red mark approached the stationary one upon the panel. I glanced up swiftly. Each of the little blobs of quartz was glowing, each with a light of a different color. One was a rich amber, one a pale green, one a vivid electric blue, and one was fiery red. The intensity of the light increased steadily as I moved the dial. I could not only see the light, but I could feel it. It beat upon my body, and throbbed all around me. I had a feeling that the mingling rays of light conflicted with each other. It seemed to me for a moment that I was growing as light as air, and that my feet were drifting off the floor, and then, as the red line of the dial came closer to the indicated point, the feeling left. And I suddenly seemed very heavy. I could hardly support my own weight. My legs were trembling with the burden. Sweat broke out over my whole body. The rays of light beat down upon me fiercely and overpoweringly. Desperately I quickly turned the dial until the two red marks coincided. A great weight, soft and enveloping, seemed to drop upon me. The senses of sight and hearing and feeling all left me. I could only think, and my thoughts were horrible. Then suddenly there was a terrific crash of sound, and my senses returned. I looked around. It seemed that an instant before I had been standing there in Vic's laboratory, slowly turning the second of the two dials while the four lights beat down upon my body. And now, now I was standing in the open on another world, a nightmare world that words seem inadequate to describe. The sky was an angry, sulfurous green, pressing low upon a country utterly flat and nearly barren. The only sign of vegetation I could perceive were strange growths that remotely resembled trees, inverted trees with wide spreading branches, hungrily nursing the blackened barren soil and gnarled, brief roots reaching out tortured arms towards the forbidding sky. To my left, in some distance away, a vast number of blunt and ugly towers rose against the sinister skyline, but no form of animal life seemed in evidence. Wonderingly, my head whirling, whether from my strange experience or from the shock of finding myself in what was obviously another world, I do not know. I turned toward the city, and as I took my first step, there materialized suddenly out of the thin and ill-smelling air figures of perhaps a dozen monstrous creatures. They were, in effect, men—that is, they had a head, a torso, two arms and two legs apiece—but they were not human. Those huge, round eyes, unblinking umbrellas were not human, nor were their slitted, sunken mouths.  Their thin legs seemed to buckle at the knees, their arms drooped from their shoulders, their mouths sagged at the corners, and even their huge ears hung down like a hound's. Their round, dark eyes, deeply recessed, were caverns of despair. They were clothed in some coarse black stuff that bristled as though loosely woven of stiff hair, and yet which was not a true fabric, for it seemed to move within itself and scintillate, as though composed of billions of restless motes. And as the strange creatures closed in quickly, I saw that theirs was not solid flesh, but like the clothing that partially covered them, an attenuated substance that was not quite real. Have you ever sat so close to the screen in a motion picture theater, so that the graininess of the moving film was visible? These creatures were like such shadows, seen in three dimensions. I retreated two or three swift steps, jerking the revolver from my pocket. Back, I warned, hoping they would understand the tone of voice, if not the words, back or all pot a couple of you. They glanced at each other swiftly, almost as though they understood. It seemed to me that their mouths lifted, that they almost smiled. Then they rushed at me. Not only one box of cartridges besides those in the cylinder of my gun, I didn't know what might be in store for me, and I took no chances. My first shot sent one of the creatures spinning to the ground. Two more were almost upon me before I could level the weapon and pull the trigger again. I got them both. The rest of that unholy crew were grinning, and their eyes were shining with anticipation. They closed in upon me eagerly, each apparently doing everything in his power to invite my attention. It was bewildering, and I watched them warily suspecting a trick. There were only three more cartridges left in my gun, and I did not dare replace the fired shells for fear they would rush me when the action was open and the gun momentarily useless. There was just about to risk one more cartridge when another figure materialized in the ranks of the enemy, a taller, commanding figure with a shining jewel, perhaps a mark of authority, dangling from his corded brown throat. The others fell back instantly, and the newcomer approached me swiftly, holding out his hands as though in supplication. I was to receive a cordial welcome after all. I breathed a sigh of relief and pocketed the weapon, and instantly the dark eyes flashed angrily. I held out both hands to show that they were empty, trying to express my willingness to be friends. He hesitated, and then uttered a high-pitched sound that I presumed to be a word of command. Before I could free the gun again the creatures had me, and while their flesh looked more unnatural and unreal than ever, at close range their long fingers gripped me like talons of steel. The being which had uttered the command disappeared, and my captors led me, struggling and protesting toward the black, ugly towers of the city. Over the barren, rocky ground we hurried past the wretched hovels on the outskirts of the city and through crooked, dismal streets toward the center of the city. A great crowd of creatures similar to my captors hemmed us in. Before us they thinned into nothingness as we approached, only to swarm into being in some other spot. It was terrifying, an unbelievable experience that made me question my sanity. The only vestige of comfort left me was the hope that they were taking me to Hope and Vic. At the entrance of one of the huge, misshapen black buildings the creature with the brilliant stone at his throat appeared as suddenly as a light flashes up in the darkness, with him or two others, each wearing a similar jewel of authority. They stood aside for us to enter, and then followed us down a long corridor which was not lighted by any device I could discern, and yet which was not dark. A broad door swung open, and I was thrust through the doorway. Pete shouted a familiar voice, and I scrambled to my feet. There was Vic, his red hair tousaled in his face gray with worry.  Vic, well, here I am, and Hope, dear. My voice trailed off. These were not Vic and Hope before me. They were unreal creatures, like the beings which had captured me. I could recognize the face and figure of the woman I loved and of her brother, but they seemed to have no substance. Hope suddenly put her arms about me. She was sobbing. Don't, Peter, she whispered. Don't look at me like that. I know how you feel. You, you and Vic, you aren't real to me, either. We're just shadows, lost souls. Buck up, Hope. Vic's voice was kindly, yet firm and gravely commanding. We're all right. Only, temporarily, we're inframedians. Sit down, Pete, and let's talk. It may be that there's no time to lose in making some plans. First of all, I insisted, tell me where we are. What's happened to us? Do you know? Where are we? Surely. Looking at it in one way, we're less than a mile from my laboratory. But Vic, I protested. Do you really mean that we're less than a mile from your laboratory? From our own world? If we were, we could see it. We'd bump into our own trees and houses and people. We'd be knocked down by automobiles, and two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Old law of simple physics. Is that what you mean, interrupted Vic? Why, yes. And a body. What's that? A body? Why, matter, I suppose. And matter is what? Anything that occupies space, I replied triumphantly. I had remembered that much from my physics classes. True, smiled Vic. But let's see. It is possible to have sound and light in the same place, isn't it? We can even add other things, heat and electricity, for example. Speaking of electricity, a tremendous current of it adds nothing to the weight of the wire carrying it, and nothing to its bulk unless we have a heating overload. Current enough to kill a thousand men or to do the work of a million horses, weighs nothing, is invisible, and actually does nothing until released in some form or other, either by accident or design. True, but electricity isn't matter. Our old world is matter. I'm matter, and you're matter. Why don't we bump into things? Our old world is matter true enough, but for the rest you're wrong, Pete, old son. You're not matter any more. You're something else. In terms of our own being, you do not exist in your present form. This world does not exist, and the reverse is just as true. I stared at him, bewildered. What am I, then, a ghost? Nothing of the sort. Your old Pete Graham, a darn good half-back in the world's rottenest scientist. Only, you've been passed into another form of being through the action of four little quartz bulbs whose periods of vibrations form a beat, but that's over your head, Pete, old son, and we'll have time to talk over details when we get back. Right now we're in somewhat of a jam. Instinctively he glanced at hope. It was her danger, and not his own, that had brought that haggard pallor to his face in so short a time. That's what I don't understand. What are these people, if you can call them that? Want of us? Vic looked down, frowning. I'm not sure I'm right, he replied after a moment. But if I am, they wish us to kill them. As many as possible. When I found myself here I wandered nearly to the city before I was molested. When they did appear and tried to lay hands on me, I warned them back, and finally shot one of them. The effect was magical. They seemed unable to believe the evidence of their eyes. They rushed me eagerly, each seeming to beg for a bullet. I gave them what they wanted, still hoping I could frighten them away. A great crowd formed around me, and the rabble was sent flying by a number of the men who seemed to hold some office, distinguished by a jewel-like emblem around their throats. If I read their actions correctly they claimed the privilege of death, by virtue of their greater authority. Well, I finally decided that my gun did anything but frighten them. They were angry when I refused to do any more slaughtering and led me here. Every once in a while one of the captains would come in and command me to kill him. I refused, for that's the only trump card I held. When Hope here acted like the foolish little kid she is, she was not even armed, and they rushed her here without delay. My theory is that these people live in a dreary world in which there is no pleasure. Their faces seem to show that.  They are not intelligent.  You have seen them appear out of thin air and dissolve in the same fashion? Yes, that is simply their mode of transportation. They pass invisibly through the air just as electricity passes through a wire, quickly, invisibly, silently. Then they assume their original form where they will, just again, as electricity passes from the end of the wire exactly the same as it entered it, allowing only for voltage drops and some other factors that aren't pertinent here. What we must do, and right now, is to settle upon some means of getting to the proper spot at the proper time. You marked a moment of your departure, I suppose? Exactly. I glanced down at my wristwatch, and noted with relief that it was still running. I observed, then, for the first time that the watch, my clothing, and even my hand, were not real. They were like the rest of the things in this monstrous state that Vic called infromedia. I left at three after ten. It's now fourteen minutes of eleven. Good Lord, less than an hour since I stood there in your laboratory. Then our next chance to get back will be at three minutes after one, not at Vic. I wonder if there is any chance of— Before he could complete the sentence, the door was flung open, and five of the older men, led by a sixth with a larger jewel at his throat, filed solemnly into the room in motion that we were to leave. At the doorway, a double file of creatures closed in about us, and we were led by long corridors and mighty winding ramps toward the top of the building. Now what? I whispered to Vic. I don't know. That chap with the big stone at his throat seems to be the headman of the city. I think his name is E.Pay. The others seem to call him that. Maybe it's just a title. But what they're up to now, I can't even guess. Keep your eyes open for a chance to get away, though. How are you feeling, Hope? All excited. She tried to smile, and almost succeeded. Hope was game all the way through. What an adventure this will be to talk about when we're old and rheumatic. Good kid, said Vic, and I pressed her hand as comfortably as I could. We turned a bend in the long ramp we had been climbing, and came out upon the vast, level top of the building. Thousands of the unreal creatures of this world were crowded around a vast, hideous image that rose from the center of this space. A monster so terrible that Hope cried out at the site, and Vic exclaimed under his breath. For myself, I seemed stricken dumb. I could only stare at this black and ghastly god of these people. The carbon image was perhaps thirty feet in height, and represented a figure crouched upon its knees. Its head bent very low, and at the same time tilted at a grotesque angle so that the face smiled heavenward. The hands, palms upward, extended invitingly just below the chin. As our party appeared, an aisle opened, and we were marched through the assembled crowd directly toward the idol. A high-pitched, sibilant chant arose from the multitude, and a procession of very ancient beings whom I took to be the priests of this god, came in single file from behind the black god, directing the chanting with movements of their arms. They were lighter in color than the others, and much more intelligent to judge by their faces. Their eyes held none of the sadness which was the most marked characteristic of the others. Each wore, upon his forehead, a gleaming scarlet stone, bound in place by a circlet of black metal, or what looked like metal. We paused, and the chanting went on and on until I began to wonder if anything would ever happen. And then at last the chanting ceased, and three of the priests moved toward us, followed by an elderly being who wore the same symbol of power or authority that I had already noted upon the creature Vic called E-Pay. One of the priests spoke sharply, commandingly to E-Pay, and the latter nodded. Not agreeably, it seemed to me. The old boy doesn't like those other chaps. Priests, I take it, whispered Vic. I think they've been messing up his plans. See, he's motioning us to watch. The priests led the old man back to the idol. Eagerly he clambered upon the outstretched hands and stood there, facing the grinning face, stroking the polished cheeks with beseeching fingers. The priests sank to the floor, bending themselves in mockery of the image. Four times they touched their foreheads to the ground, and as the fourth gesture was completed something moved swiftly behind the lips of the image, as though a plate had lifted for a moment and dropped again. There was a sharp murmuring sound, as of a harp string, softly plucked. A scarlet haze of light shot forth from the mouth of the black god, and the old man stepped back sharply as though struck by some invisible agent. He would have fallen, but as he crumpled his body seemed to soften and shatter into a scintillating cloud. An instant later there is no trace of him anywhere. Hmm, the great reward for some notable service rendered, I imagine, whispered Vic. Those priests are wiser than the rest of this crew. They deal death sparingly, and that makes them great. They love life like a man of our earth, perhaps because they've found out how to enjoy it. But what does the work? What killed him? I asked breathlessly. I can't say, Pete, you can't name things here in terms of our own world. Some natural force they've corralled, I imagine. They control it with that shutter behind the lips of the image. Did you notice it? Yes, I suppose one of the priests operates it from some hidden room. Whatever it is, it certainly does the work. And what do you suppose they want us to do now? The priests were coming toward us, smiling. I didn't like their smiles.  Keep your hand on your gun, said Vic swiftly. I don't like the looks of these chaps. The priests stopped before us, and their leader began a long harangue in a screechy voice which set my nerves on edge. When he had finished he held out his hands toward me, and motioned toward the waiting idol. E-Pay spoke up in sharp protest, and thrust himself between me and the priest. For a moment, due to this obviously unexpected interruption, everything was in confusion. Pete, Vic was whispering excitedly in my ear. Listen, Pete, I think I see through this. These priests have heard about us and our death-dealing ability. They're jealous. They want a corner on that. Old E-Pay figures maybe we could do him a favour in that line, and that's why he's arguing. The priests want to honour us for the good we've done, by giving us the reward we've just seen. So, before he could finish, E-Pay was thrust aside by a group of angry guards, and I was jerked away. Hope screamed, and out of the tail of my eye I saw both Vic and Hope struggling frantically to free themselves from an overwhelming number of guards. Vic tried to shout something, but a claw-like brown hand was immediately thrust over his mouth. The guards who held me, followed by the priests, made their way toward the extended palms which formed the altar of this strange black god whose favour was death. At a command from the priests, the guards lifted me to the altar, and then stood watchfully below, gazing up at me with puzzled, mournful, envious eyes. I saw the priests crouch low, and make their first beseeching bow, in imitation of the black god. Frantically I looked about me, seeking some avenue of escape. Below me, hemming me in, were the guards, a triple ring of them through which I knew I could not escape. Behind me, for I was facing the multitude, was the hideous, grinning face of the idol. The priests bowed a second time. Both Hope and Vic were fighting desperately, but there were at least ten guards to each of them. I lifted my hand and waved a farewell, hoping that one of them, at least, would see the gesture, and know that my last thought was of them. Then, as the priests completed their third bow, I turned and faced the statue. As my eyes fell upon the shutter behind the thick, grinning lips, the shutter which released the lethal force, a wild and desperate idea came to me. With a shout I jerked a gun from my pocket and leaped aside. As I did so, I fired twice into the gaping mouth, and saw the bullets shatter the heavy shutter. Then, with the humming sound ringing in my ears like a note of death, I leaped clear, into the midst of the waiting guards. For an instant there was no movement, no sound, from all that vast crowd. Even the guards seemed stunned, and I tore my way through them with hardly a pause in my stride.  Blindly, the multitude surged toward the scarlet ray that dealt death, fighting their way toward the oblivion they so highly prized. Those who had been holding Hope and Vic were surging forward with the rest, their erstwhile prisoners forgotten in their mad greed for death. The crowd jostling about me seemed blind to my presence. Every eye was fixed on the alter-like hands of the idol, and the death that blew across them. Pete yelled Vic. Coming, boy! He was waiting for me, staving off as best he could the rush of bodies around him, shielding Hope from the savage jostling. Coming! I leaned forward, budding with my head, both doubled fists working like pistons to clear my way to my companions. Nice work, Pete! shouted Vic as I joined them, breathless but triumphant. Now for a break. Gun loaded. I snapped open the action and dropped in six cartridges. It is now. I'll go ahead. You bring up to rear with Hope in the middle. Ready? Let's go. I plunged on, Hope's fingers gripping my belt. Fresh multitudes were pouring up to ramp, brushing aside the five or six priests that had hurried there in an effort to stem the tide. One of the priests saw us and cried out shrilly to his companions, with one accord that came toward us, obviously intent upon blocking our way.  Watch them, Pete! roared Vic. We can't take chances. His gun roared twice from behind me, and two of the priests fell writhing to be instantly trampled into pulp. Another reached out long arms toward Hope, and I let him have it. There is nothing else to do. He went the way of the two others. Twice again, before we reached the ramp they guarded, the angry attendance of the idol fell before our guns. Then, hurrying down ramp after ramp, corridor after corridor, fighting the rushing mob all the way, we came at last, shaking with weariness and gasping for breath, to the deserted streets of the black and terrible city. Are we free? whispered Hope, holding tightly to my arm. Are we really free? I hope so, dear. We seem to be. If we can only reach the spot where we entered this insane world before something happens, how much time have we interrupted Vic? I glanced down at my watch, fearful for a moment that it had been broken or lost in the melee. It was still running, apparently undamaged. Let's see, it's four minutes of one that gives us seven minutes. Can we make it? I think so. It's not so far, and we're nearly out of the city. We have to make it. Vic led the way, Hope and I following. Anxiously, I watched the minute hand of the watch slide toward the seven of the dial. Move on. It was not far, as Vic had said, but we were weary from our battle with the crazed mob, and the best we could force from our legs was a sort of dog-trop. One minute after. Two. Here's the spot. I marked it with these three pieces of stone. Quick. Vic swept both arms about Hope and me, holding us in a close embrace, so that we all stood within the triangle formed by the three bits of black rock. I glanced down at my watch. It lacked but a few seconds of the moment when the machine back in Vic's laboratory would function, provided my watch was correct and the equipment worked according to schedule. Suddenly Hope screamed, and I followed her eyes. A score or more of the strange beings had suddenly materialized but a few yards away, and they were closing in on us swiftly. I tried to draw my gun. Hands reached out to grasp me, to grasp all three of us. Then darkness closed in swiftly. I was whisked upward, on and on, breathlessly. I was suddenly very heavy. I was dropping in the blackness. There was something solid beneath my feet. A glare of light in my eyes. Nicely timed, I'll say that, chuckled Vic. How does our own material world look? Great! I stepped quickly away from the machine, drawing Hope with me. Doesn't it, Hope? She sighed a long, shuddering sigh, and snuggled into my arms. Vic glanced toward us and grinned. Come to think of it, he remarked. I believe I'll run along and see if I can find Mrs. Perrin. I haven't had a thing to eat since noon yesterday, and I've just realized I'm hungry. Will you join me? In a moment, I nodded, and Vic, being a good scout that he was, hurried away. And the machine? I asked a few nights later. Still experimenting with it? I had really come out to see Hope, of course, but she was still upstairs, putting on the finishing touches. Vic shook his head quite gravely. No, old son, I've had enough. Off on another tangent now. Why, would you like to go back? Not me. It doesn't seem real now, more like a nightmare, but it was terrible enough at the time. I can't prove it wasn't a nightmare, chuckled Vic. Come along, and I'll show you something you missed. He led the way to the laboratory and unlocked a drawer, one of several, beneath the work-table. I found this on the floor of the machine, he said. Didn't notice it until later. The rays of the machine caught it, and brought it back with us, made it solid matter as we know it here. Do you recognize it? I nodded, shuddering. There is no possibility of mistake. In a squat, clear bottle of alcohol that Vic had taken from the drawer, was a sinister, claw-like brown hand, severed cleanly at the wrist. End of The Infra-Medians by Sewell Peasley Wright, read by John Larmer of Roseville, Minnesota The Mist Placed Battleship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Barney Shergold. The Mist Placed Battleship by Harry Harrison When it comes to picking locks and cracking safes, I admit to no master. The door to Inskip's private quarters had an old-fashioned tumbler drum that was even easier to pick than my teeth. I must have gone through that door without breaking a step. Quiet as I was, though, Inskip still heard me. The light came on, and there he was, sitting up in bed, pointing a 0.7-calibre royal coiless at my sternum. You should have more brains than that, the gris, he snarled, creeping into my room at night. You could have been shot! No, I couldn't. I told him, as he stowed the cannon back under his pillow. A man with a curiosity bump as big as yours will always talk first and shoot later. And besides, know this pussy-footing around in the dark would be necessary if your screen was open and I could have got a call through. Inskip yawned, and pulled himself a glass of water from the dispenser unit above the bed. Just because I heard the special call doesn't mean I am the special call, he said, moistly, while he drained the glass. I have to sleep sometime. My screen is only open for emergency calls, not for every agent who needs his hand-held. Meaning I am in the hand-holding category, I asked, with as much sweetness as I could. Put yourself in any category you please, he grumbled as he slumped down into the bed. And also put yourself out in the hall and see me tomorrow during working hours. He was at my mercy, really. He wanted to sleep so much, and he was going to be wide awake so very soon. Do you know what this is? I asked him, poking a large glossy pick under his long broken nose. One eye opened slowly. Big warship of some kind. Looks like Empire lines. Now for the last time, go away! He said. A very good guess for this late at night, I told him cheerily. It is a late Empire battleship of the Warlord class, undoubtedly one of the most truly efficient engines of destruction ever manufactured. Over half a mile at the fencing screens, an armament that could probably turn any fleet existing today into fine radioactive ash. Except for the fact that the last one was broken up with scrap over a thousand years ago, he mumbled. I leaned over and put my lips close to his ear, so there'd be no chance of misunderstanding. Speaking softly, but clearly. True, true, I said. But wouldn't you just be a little bit interested if I was to tell you that one is being built today? Oh, it was beautiful to watch. The covers went one way and in skit went the other. In a single unfolding, in concerted motion, he left the horizontal and recumbent and stood tensely vertical against the wall, examining the pick of the battleship under the light. He apparently did not believe in pyjama bottoms and it hurt me to see the goose bumps rather than on those thin shanks. But if the legs were thin, the voice was more than full enough to make up the difference. Talk, blast your degrees, talk! he roared. What is this nonsense about a battleship? Who's building it? I had my nail far out and was touching a pecuticle, holding it out for inspection before I said anything. From the corner of my eye, I could see him getting purple about the face, but he kept quiet. I savoured my small moment of power. Put degrees in charge of the record room for a while, you said. That way he can learn the ropes. Buying around in century old dusty files would be just the thing for a free spirit like slippery gym degrees. Teach him discipline, show him what the core stands for. At the same time it will get the records in shape. They have been needing realisation for quite a while. Inskipped opened his mouth, made a choking noise and then closed it. He undoubtedly realised that any interruption would only lengthen my explanation, not shorten it. I smiled and nodded at his decision and then continued. So you thought you had me safely out of the way. Breaking my spirit under the guise of giving me a little background into the core's activities. Well in the sense your plan failed, something else happened instead. I nosed through those files and found them most interesting. Particularly the C and M set up. The categoriser and the memory. That's building full of machinery that takes in and digests news and reports from all the planets in the galaxy. Indexes it to every category it can possibly relate and then files it. Great machine to work with. I had it digging out spaceship info for me. Something I have always been interested in. You should be! Inskipped interrupted brutally. You've stolen enough of them in your time. I gave him a hurt look and went on slowly.  But eventually I turned up this plan. He had it out of my fingers before it cleared my wallet. What are you getting at? He mumbled as he ran his eyes over the footprints. This is an ordinary heavy cargo and passenger job. It's no more a warlord battleship than I am. It is hard to curl your lips with contempt and talk at the same time, but I succeeded. Of course you don't expect them to file warship plans with the League of Registry do you? But as I said, I know more than a little bit about ships. It seemed to me this thing was just a bit too big for the use intended. Enough old ships are fuel wasters, you don't have to build new ones to do that. This started me thinking and I punched a complete list of ships that size that had been constructed in the past. You can imagine my surprise when, after about three minutes of groaning, the C&M only produced six. One was built for self-sustaining colony attempt at the second galaxy. For all we know, she's still on the way. The other five are all D-class colonizers built during the expansion when large populations were moved. Too big to be practical now. I was still teased as I had no idea what a ship this large could be used for, so I removed the time interlocked on the C&M and let it pick around the entire history of space to see if it could find a comparison. It sure did. Right at the golden age of Empire expansion, the giant warlord battleships. The machine even found a blueprint for me. Inskip grabbed again and began to compare the prints. I leaned over his shoulder and pointed out the interesting parts. Notice, if the engine room specs are chained slightly to include this cargo hold, there is plenty of room for the brutes needed. This superstructure obviously just tacked onto the plans gets thrown away and turrets take its place. The hulls are identical. A change here, a shift there and the stodgy freighter becomes the fast battle wagon. These changes could be made during construction, then plans filed. By the time anyone in the league found out what was being built, the ship would be finished and launched. Of course, this could all be coincidence. The plans of a newly built ship agree into six places, with those of a ship built a thousand years ago. But if you think so, I'll give you a hundred to one odds you're wrong. Any size bet you name. I wasn't winning any sucker bets that night. Inskip had led just a crooked of youth as I had and needed no help in smelling a fishy deal. While he pulled on his clothes, he shot questions at me. And the name of the peace-loving planet that is building this bad memory from the past? Citanuvo, second planet of a B-star in Corona Borealis. No other colonised planets in the system. Never heard of it. Inskip said as we took the private drop-shoot to his office, which may be a good or bad sign, when we were the first time trouble came from some out-of-the-way spotlight never knew existed. With the automatic disregard for others of the truly dedicated, he pressed the scramble button on his desk. Very quickly, sleepy-eyed clerks and assistants were bringing files and records. We went through them together. Modesty prevented me from speaking first, but I had a very short wait before Inskip reached the same conclusion I had. He hurled a fold of the length of the room and scoured out at the harsh dawn light. The more I look at this thing, he said, the fishery it gets. This planet seems to have no possible motive or use for a battleship. Well, they're building one. That, I will swear on a stack of 1,000 credit notes as high as this building. Yet what will they do with it when they have it built? They have an expanding culture, no unemployment, a surplus of heavy metals, and ready markers for all they produce. No heavy-rejectory enemies, feuds or the like.  I have to know more about them. I've already caught the spaceport. In your name, of course, I told him. Ordered a fast-career ship. I'll leave within the hour. I knew getting a little ahead of yourself to Gris. He said, I still give the orders, and I'll tell you when you're ready for an independent command. I was sweetness and light, because a lot depended on his decision. Just trying to help, chief. Get things ready in case you wanted more info. And this really isn't an operation, just a reconnaissance. I can do that as well as any of the experienced operators. And it may give me the experience I need, so that someday I too will be qualified to join the ranks. All right, he said. Stop shoveling on while I can still breathe. Get out there. Find out what is going on. And get back. Nothing else, and that's an order. By the way he said it, I knew that he thought there was little chance of it happening that way. Since my forced induction into the core six months earlier, I had been stuck on this super-secret planetoid that was its headquarters and main base. I had very little sitting-down patience anyway, and it had been long since exhausted. It had been interesting at first, particularly since up to the time I was drafted into the special corps, I wasn't even certain it really existed. It was too much like a con man's nightmare to be real. A secret worry. After a few happy years of successful crime, you begin to wonder how long it will last.  What about the league though? Don't they take any interest in crime? Just about that time you hear your first rumour of the special corps, and it fits the bad dreams. A shadowy, powerful group that slips silently between the stars, ready to bring the interstellar lawbreaker low. Sounds like TV drama stuff. I had been quite surprised to find they really existed. I was even more surprised when I joined them. Of course there was a little pressure at the time. I had the alternative choice of instant death, but I still think it was a wise move. Under the motto, set a thief to catch one, the corps supposedly made good use of men like myself to get rid of the more antisocial types that infest the universe. This was all still hearsay to me. I had been pulled into headquarters and given routine administration work before training. Six months of this had left me slightly gaga, and I wanted out. Since no one seemed to be in a hurry to give me an assignment, I had found one for myself. I had no idea of what would come of it, but I also had no intention of returning until the job was done. A quick stop at supply and record sections gave me everything I needed. The sun was barely clear of the horizon when the silver needle of my ship lifted in the grey field, then blasted into space. The trip only took a few days, more than enough time to memorise everything I needed to know about Setanuvo. The more I knew, the less I could understand their need for a battleship. It didn't fit. Setanuvo was a secondary settlement out of the Selene system, and I had run into these settlements before. They were all united in a loose alliance and bickered a lot among themselves, but never came to blows. If anything, they shared a universal of whorents of war. Yet they were secretly building a battleship. Since I was only chasing my tail with this line of thought, I put it out of my mind and worked on some tri-D chest problems. This filled the time until Setanuvo blinked into the bow screen. One of my most effective mottos has always been, secrecy can be an obviosity.  Let people very obviously see what you want them to see and they'll never notice what is hidden. This is why I landed at midday on the largest field on the planet after a very showy approach. I was already dressed for my role and out of the ship before the landing braces stopped vibrating. Buckling the fur cape around my shoulders with the platinum clasp, I stamped down the ramp. The sturdy little M3 robot rumbled after me with my bags. Heading directly towards the main gate, I ignored the story of activity around the customs building. Only when a uniformed under-official of some kind ran over to me did I give the field any attention. Before he could talk, I did. Foot in the door and stay on top. Beautiful planet you have here. Delightful climate. Ideal spot for a country home. Friendly people always willing to help strangers and all that I imagine. My like makes me feel grateful. Very pleased to meet you. I am the Grand Duke San Angelo. I shook his hand enthusiastically at this point and let a 100 credit note slip into his palm. Now, I added, I wonder if you would ask the customs agents to look at my bags here. Don't want to waste time, do we? The ship is open, they can check that whenever they please. My manner close, jewellery. The easy way I passed money around and the luxurious sheen of my bags could only mean one thing. There was little that was worth smuggling in and out of Citanevo. Certainly nothing a rich man would be interested in. The official murmured something with a smile. Myr spoke a few words into his phone and the job was done. A small wave of custom men, hung stickers on my luggage, peaked into one or two for conformity's sake and waved me through. I shook hands all around. A rustling handclap, of course, then was on my way. The hotel suggested I nodded agreement and settled back while the robot loaded the bags about me. The ship was completely clean. Everything I might need for the job was in my luggage. Some of it quite lethal and explosive and very embarrassing if it was discovered in my bags. In the safety of my hotel suite I made a change of clothes and personality. After the robot had checked the room for bugs. And very nice gadgets to these core robots. It looked and acted like a moral M3 all the time. It was anything but. The brain was as good as any other robot brain I have known. Plus the fact that the chunky body was crammed with devices and machines of varying use. It chugged slowly around the room, moving my bags and laying out my kit and all the time following a careful route that covered every inch of the suite. When it had finished, it stopped and called the all clear. All rooms checked, results negative except for one optic bug in that wall. Should you be pointing like that? I asked the robot. Might make people suspicious you know. Impossible said the robot with mechanical surety. I brushed against it and it is now unserviceable. With this assurance I pulled off my flashy clothes and slipped into the midnight black dress uniform of an admiral in the league grand fleet. It came complete with decorations, gold bullion and all the necessary documents. I thought it a little showy myself but it was just the thing to make the right impression. Like many other planets, this one was a uniform conscious. Delivery boys, street cleaners, clerks all have to have characteristic uniforms. Much prestige attached to them and my black dress outfit should rate as highly as any uniform in the galaxy. A long cloak would conceal the uniform while I left the hotel but the golden crusted helmet and briefcase of papers were a problem. I had never explored all the possibilities of the pseudo M3 robot. Perhaps it could be of help. You there short and chunky I called. Do you have any concealed compartments or drawers built into your steel hard? If so, let's see. For a second I thought the robot had exploded. The thing had more drawers in it than a battery of cash registers. Big, small, flat, thin. They shut out on all sides. One held a gun and two more were stuffed with grenades. The rest were empty. One had shut and its metal hide was as smooth as ever. I pulled on a fancy sports cap, buckled the cap up tight and was ready to go. The luggage was all booby-chapped and could defend itself. Guns, gas, poison needles, the usual sort of thing. In the last resort it would blow itself up. The M3 went down by a freight elevator. I used the back stairs and we met in the street. Since it was still daylight I didn't take a heli but rented a ground car instead. We had to leisurely drive out into the country and reach President Ferraro's house after dark. As befitted the top official of a rich planet, the place was a mansion. But the security precautions were ludicrous to say the least. I took myself and 350 kilo robot through the guards and alarms without causing the slightest stir. President Ferraro, a bachelor, was eating his dinner. This gave me enough undisturbed time to search his study. There was absolutely nothing. Nothing to do with wars or battleships there is. If I had been interested in blackmail I had enough evidence in my hand to support me for life. I was looking for something bigger than a political corruption habit. When Ferraro rolled into his study after dinner the room was dark. I heard in murmur something about the servants and fumble for the switch. Before he found it, the robot closed the door and turned on the lights. I sat behind his desk. All his personal papers were before me weighted down with a pistol. And as fierce a scout as I could raise smeared across my face. Before he got over the shock I snapped an order at him. Come over here and sit down quick. The robot hustled him across the room at the same time so he had no choice except to obey. When he saw the papers on the desk his eyes bulged and he just gurgled a little.  I am and more far. League Grand Fleet. These are my credentials. You had better check them. Since they were as good as any real admals I didn't worry the slightest. Ferraro went through them as carefully as he could in his rattled state even checking the seals under UV. It gave him time to regain a little of his self control and he used it to bluster. What do you mean by entering my private quarters and below gluing your in very bad trouble? I said in as gloomy a voice as I could muster.  I pressed the advantage. I am arresting you for conspiracy, extortion, theft and whatever other charges developed after a careful review of these documents. Seize him. This last order was directed at the robot who was well-briefed in his role. It rumbled forward and locked its hand round Ferraro's wrist. Handcuff style. He barely noticed. I can explain. He said desperately. Everything can be explained. There is no need to make such charges. I don't know what the papers you have there so I wouldn't attempt to say they're all forgeries. I have many enemies you know. If the league knew the difficulties faced on a backward planet like this. That will be entirely enough. I snapped, cutting him off with a wave in my hand. All those questions will be answered by a court at the proper time. There is only one question I want an answer to now. Why are you building that battleship? The man was a great actor. His eyes open wide. His jaw dropped. He sank back into the chair as if he'd been tapped lightly with a hammer. When he managed to speak, the words were completely unnecessary. He had already registered every evidence of injured innocence. What battleship? He gasped. The warlord class battleship that has been built at the center around Tola, space yards, disguised behind these blueprints. I threw them across the desk to him and pointed to one corner. Those are your initials there, authorizing construction. For a while I still had the baffled act going as he fumbled with the papers, examine the initials and such. I gave him plenty of time.  I know nothing about any battleship. These are the plans for a new cargo liner. Those are my initials. I recall putting them there. I phrased my question carefully as I had him right where I wanted him now. You deny any knowledge of the warlord battleship that is being built from these modified plans. These are the plans for an ordinary passenger freighter. That is all I know. His words had the simple innocence of a young child's. Was he ever caught? I sat back with a relaxed sigh and lit a cigar. Wouldn't you be interested in knowing something about that robot who is holding you, I said. He looked down as if aware for the first time that the robot had been holding by the wrist during the interview. That is no ordinary robot. It has a number of interesting devices built into its fingertips. Thermocouples, governors, things like that. While you talked, it registered your skin temperature, blood pressure, amount of perspiration and such. In other words, it is an efficient and fast-working lie detector. We will now hear all about your lies. Ferrero pulled away from the robot's hand as if it had been a poisonous snake. I blew a relaxed smoke ring. Report, I said to the robot. Has this man told any eyes? Many, the robot said. Exactly 74% of all statements he made were fake. Very good, I nodded, throwing the last lock on my trap. That means he knows all about this battleship. Their subject has no knowledge of the battleship? The robot said coldly. All of his statements concerning the construction of this ship were true. Now it is my turn for the gaping and eye-popping act, while Ferrero pulled himself together. He had no idea I wasn't interested in his other hanky-panky, but could tell that I had a low blow. It took an effort, but I managed to get my mind back into gear and consider the evidence. If President Ferrero didn't know about the battleship, he must have been taken in by the cover-up job. But if he wasn't responsible, who was? Some militaristic clique that meant to overthrow him and take power. I didn't know enough about the planet, so I enlisted Ferrero on my side. This was easy, even without the threat of exposure of the documents I had found in his finals. Using their disclosure as a prod, I could have made him jump through hoops. It wasn't necessary. As soon as I showed him the different blueprints and explained the possibilities, he understood. If anything, he was more eager than I was to find out who was using his administration as a cat's paw. By silent agreement, the documents were forgotten. We agreed that the next logical step would be to send him to roller-space yards. He had some idea of sniffing around quietly first, trying to get a line to his political opponents. I gave him to understand that the League and the League Navy in particular wanted to stop the construction of the battleship. After that, he could play his politics. With this point understood, he called his car and squadron of guards and we made a parade to the shipyards. It was a four-hour drive and we made plans on the way down. The Space Yard Manager was named Rocker, and he was happily asleep when we arrived, but not for long. The parade of uniforms and guns in the middle of the night had him frightened into a state where he could hardly walk. I imagine he was as full of petty larceny as Ferrero. No innocent man could have looked so terror-stricken. Taking advantage of the situation, I latched my motorized lie detector onto him and began snapping the questions. Even before I had all the answers, I began to get the drift of things. They were a little frightening too. The manager of the Space Yard that was building the ship had no idea of its true nature. Anyone with less self-esteem than myself who had led a more honest early life might have doubted his own reasoning at that moment. I didn't. The ship on the ways still resembled a warship to six places, and knowing human nature the way I do, that was too much of a coincidence to expect. Occam's razor always points the way. If there are two choices to take, take the simpler. In this case, I chose the natural acquisitive instinct of man as opposed to blind chance and accident. Nevertheless, I put the theory to the test. Looking over the original brood plinths again, the big superstructure hit my eye. In order to turn the ship into a warship, that would have to be one of the first things to go. Rocker! I barked in what I hoped was authentic old space dog manner. Look at these plans. At this space going front porch here. Is it still being built onto the ship? He shook his head at once and said, No, the plans were changed. We had to fit in some kind of new meteor repelling gear for operating in the planetary debris belt. I flipped through my case and drew out a plan. Does your new gear look anything like this? I asked, throwing it across the table to him. He rubbed his jaw while he looked at it. Well, he said hesitantly. I don't want to say for certain. All these details aren't in my department. I'm just responsible for firing our assembly. Not unit work. But this surely looks like the thing they installed. Big thing. Lots of powerlies. It was a battleship alright. No doubt of that now. I was mentally reaching around to pat myself on the back when the meaning of his words sank in. Installed? I shouted. Did you say installed? Rocker collapsed away from my roar and gnawed his ills. Yes, he said. Not too long ago. I remember there was some trouble. And what else? I interrupted him. Cold moisture was beginning to collect along my spine now. The drives, the controls, are they in too? Why? Yes, he said. How did you know? The normal shredding was changed around, causing a great deal of unnecessary trouble. The cold sweat was now a running river of fear. I was beginning to have the feeling that I had been missing the boat all along the line. The original estimated date of the completion was nearly a year away, but there was no real reason why that couldn't be changed too. Guards, guns, I bellowed, to the space yard. If that ship is anywhere near completion, we are in big, big trouble. All the board guards had a great time with the sirens, lights, accelerators on the floor and that sort of thing. We blasted a screaming hole through the night, right to the space yard and through the gate. It didn't make any difference, we were still too late. A uniformed watchman frantically waved to us and the whole convoy jerked to a stop. The ship was gone. Rocker couldn't believe it, neither could the President. They wandered up and down the empty ways where it had been built.  I had missed the obvious fact, being carried away by the thought of a planetary government building a warship. The government was involved for sure, but only as a pawn. No little planet-bound political mind could have dreamed up as scheme as big as this. I smelled a rat, a stainless steel one, someone who operated the way I had done before my conversion. Now that the rodent was well out of the bag, I knew just where to look and had a pretty good idea of what I would find. Rocker, the space yard manager, had staggered back and was pulling at his hair, cursing and crying at the same time. President Ferreiro had his gun out and was staring at it grimly. He was thinking of murder or suicide. I didn't care which. All he had to worry about was the next election, when the voters and the political competition would carve him up for losing the ship. My troubles were a little bigger. I had to find the battleship before it blasted its way across the galaxy. Rocker, I shouted, get into the car. I want to see your records, all of your records, and I want to see them right now. He climbed weirdly in and had directed the driver before he fully realised what was happening. The light of dawn brought him slowly back to reality. But Admiral, the hour, everyone will be asleep. I just growled, but it was enough. Rocker caught the idea from my expression and grabbed the car phone. The office doors were open when we got there. Normally, I cursed the paper tangles of bureaucracy, but this was one time when I blessed them all. These people had it down to a fine science. Not a rivet fell, but that its fall was noted in Quintuplicate and later followed up with a memo. Wastage? Query. The facts I needed were all neatly tucked away in their paid pecata coons. All I had to do was sniff them out. I didn't try to look for first causes. This would have taken too long. Instead, I concentrated my attention on the recent modifications. Like the gun turret, that would quickly give me a trail to the guilty parties. Once the clerks understood what I had in mind, they hurled themselves into their work, urged on by the fires of patriotism and the burning voices of their superiors. All I had to do was suggest a line of search and the relevant documents would begin appearing at once. Bit by bit, a pattern started to emerge. A delicate web work of forgery, bribery, chicanery and falsehood. It could only have been conceived by a mind as brilliantly crooked as my own. I chewed my lip with jealousy. Like all great ideas, this one was basically simple. A party or party's unknown had neatly walked the ship construction program to their own ends. Undoubtedly, they had started the program for the giant transport. That would have to be checked later. And once the program was under way, it had been guided by the skill that bordered on genius. Orders were originated in many places, passed on, changed and shuffled. I painfully traced each one to its source. Many times the source was a forgery. Some changes seemed to be unexplicable until I noticed that the officers in question had a temporary secretary while their normal assistants were ill. All the girls had food poisoning, a regular epidemic it seemed. Each of them in turn had been replaced by the same girl. She stayed just long enough in each position to see that the battleship plan moved forward one more notch. The girl was obviously the assistant to the mastermind who originated the scheme. He sat in the centre of the plot like a spider on its web, pulling the strings that set things into motion. My first thought that a gang was involved proved wrong. All my secondary suspects turned out to be simple forgeries, not individuals. In the few cases where forgery wasn't adequate, my mysterious ex had apparently hired himself to do the job. Ex himself had the permanent job of assistant engineering designer. One by one the untangled threads ran to this office. He also had a secretary whose illnesses coincided with her employment in the other offices. When I straightened up from my desk, the ache in my back stabbed like a hot wire. I swallowed a painkiller and looked around at my drooping Sakai assistants who had shared the sleepless 72 hour task. They sat or slumped against the furniture, waiting for my conclusions. Even President Ferrero was there, his hair looking scraggly where he had pulled at handfuls. You found them, the criminal ring! He asked, his fingers groping over his scalp for a fresh hold. I have found them, yes, I added Horsley, but not a criminal ring. An inspired master criminal who apparently has more executive ability in one ear lube than all your bribed bloated bureaucrats and his female assistant. The entire job by themselves. His name, or undoubtedly pseudo name, is Pepe Nero. The girl is called Angelina. Arrest them at once, guards, guards! Ferrero's voice died away as he ran out of the room. I talked to his vanishing back. That is just what we intend to do, but it's a little difficult at the moment since they are the ones who not only built the battleship, but undoubtedly stole it as well. It was fully automated, so no crew is necessary. What do you plan to do? One of the clerks asked. I shall do nothing, I told him, with the snap precision of an old space dog. The league fleet is already closing in on the renegades and you will be informed of the capture. Thank you for your assistance. I threw them as snappy a salute as I could muster and they filed out. Staring gloomily at their backs, I envied for one moment their simple faith in the league navy. When in reality the vengeful fleet was just as imaginary as my inaugural's writing. This was still a job for the corps. Inskip had to be given the latest information at once. I had sent him a psygram about the theft, but there was no answer as yet. Maybe the identity of the thieves would stir some response out of him. My message was in code, but it could be quickly broken if someone wanted to try hard enough. I took it to the message centre myself. The Siaman was in his transparent cubicle and I locked myself in with him. His eyes were unfocused as he spoke softly into a mic, pulling in a message from somewhere across the galaxy. Outside the rushing transcribers copied, coded and filed messages, but no sound penetrated the insulated wall. I waited until his attention clicked back into the room and handed him the sheets of paper. League Central 14! Rush! I told him. He raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any questions. Establishing contact only took a few seconds as they had an entire battery assignment for their communications. He read the code words carefully, shaping them with his mouth but not speaking aloud. The power of his thoughts carrying across the light years of distance. As soon as he was finished, I took back the sheet, tore it up and pocketed the pieces. I had my answer back quickly enough. Inskit must have been hovering around waiting for my message. The mic was turned off to the transcribers outside and I took the code groups down in a shorthand myself. The message broke into clear at the end and the Siaman smiled as he spoke the words. I broke the point off my stylus and growled at him not to repeat any of this message as it was classified and I would personally see him shot if he did. That got rid of the smile but didn't make me feel any better. The decoded message turned out to not be as bad as I imagined. Until further notice I was in charge of tracking and capturing the stolen battleship. I could call on the league for any aid I needed. I would keep my identity as an admiral for the rest of the job. I was to keep him informed of progress. Only those ominous last words in clear kept my happiness from being complete. I had been handed my long awaited assignment but translated into some terms my orders were to get the battleship or it would be my neck. Never a word about my efforts in uncovering the plots in the first place. This is a heartless world we live in. This moment of self pity relaxed me and I immediately went to bed. Since my main job was now waiting I could wait just as well asleep. And waiting was all I could do. Of course there were secondary tasks such as ordering a naval cruiser for my own use and digging for more information on the thieves but these were really secondary to my main purpose which was waiting for bad news. There was no place I could go that would be better situated for the chase than Sitanovo. The missing ship could have gone in any direction. With each passing minute the sphere of probable locations grew larger by the power of the squared cube. I kept the on watch crew of the cruiser at duty stations and confined the rest within a hundred yard radius of the ship. There was little more information on Pepe and Angelina. They had covered their tracks well. Their origin was unknown though the fact that they both talked with a slight accent suggested an off-world origin.  There was no picture of the girl. I shuffled the meager findings, controlled my impatience and kept the ship's Simon busy pulling in all the reports of any kind of trouble in space. The navigator and I plotted their locations in his tank. Comparing the positions in relation to the growing sphere that enclosed all the possible locations of the stolen ship. Some of the disasters and apparent accidents hit inside this area but further investigation proved them all to have natural causes. I had left standing orders that all reports falling inside the danger area would be brought to me at any time. The messenger woke me from a deep sleep, turning on the light and handing me the slip of paper. I blinked myself awake, read the first two lines and pressed the action station alarm over my bunk. I'll say this, the navy boys know their business. When the sirens screamed the crew secured ship and blasted off before I had finished reading the report. As soon as my eyeballs unsquashed back into focus I read it through, then once more carefully from the beginning. It looked like the one we'd been waiting for. There were no witnesses to the tragedy but a number of monitor stations had picked up this discharged static of a large energy weapon being fired. Triangulation had led investigators to the spot where they found a freighter ogot's dream with a hole punched through it as big as a railroad tunnel. The freighter's cargo of plutonium was gone. I read, Pepe in every line of the message since he was flying an undermanned battleship he had used it in the most efficient way possible. If he attempted to negotiate or threaten another ship the element of chance would be introduced. So he had simply roared up to unsuspecting freighter and blasted with the monster guns his battleship packed. All 18 men aboard had been killed instantly. The thieves were now murderers. I was under pressure now to act and a greater pressure not to make any mistakes. Roly-poly Pepe had shown himself to be a ruthless killer. He knew what he wanted then reached out and took it. Destroying anyone who stood in his way.  It was up to me to keep that number as small as possible. Ideally I should have rushed out the fleet with guns blazing and dragged him to justice. Very nice. I wish it had been done that way. Except where was he? A battleship may be gigantic on some terms of reference, but in the immensity of the galaxy it is microscopically infinitesimal. As long as it stayed out of the regular lanes of commerce and cleared of detector stations and planets it would never be found. Then how could I find it? And having found it, catch it. When the infernal thing was more than a match for any ship it might meet. That was my problem. It had kept me awake nights and talking to myself days since there was no easy answer. I had to construct a solution slowly and carefully. Since I couldn't be sure where Pepe was going to be next, I had to make him go where I wanted him to. There were some things in my favour. The most important was the fact I had forced him to make his play before he was absolutely ready. It wasn't a chance that he had left the same day I arrived on Cetanovo. Any plan as elaborate as his certainly included warning of approaching danger. The drive on the battleship as well as controls and primary armament had been stored weeks before I showed up. Much of the subsidiary work remained to be done when the ship had left. One witness of the theft had graphically described the power lines and cables dangling from the ship's locks when she lifted. My arrival had forced Pepe off balance. Now I had to keep pushing until he fell. This meant I had to think as he did. Fall into his plan. Think ahead then trap him. Set a thief to catch a thief. A great theory. Only I felt uncomfortably on the spot when I tried to put it into practice. A drink helped. Let's do the cigar. Puffing on it, staring at the smooth bulkhead relaxed me a bit. After all, there aren't that many things you can do with the battleship. You can't run a big con, blow safes or make bermadex with it. It's held on jet to space piracy but that's about a... Great. Great. But why a battleship? I was talking to myself. Normally a bad sign but right now I didn't care. The mood of space piracy had seized me and I had been going along fine. Until this glaring inconsistency jumped out and hit me square in the eye. Why a battleship? Why all the trouble in years of work to get a ship that two people could just barely manage? With the tenth of the effort, Pepe could have had a cruiser that would have suited just as well. Just as good for space piracy that is but not for his purposes. He had wanted a battleship and he had got himself a battleship which meant he had more in mind than just simple piracy. What? It was obvious that Pepe was a monomaniac an egomaniac and psychotic as a shorted computer. Someday the mystery of how he had slipped through the screen of official testing would have to be investigated. That wasn't my concern now. He still had to be caught. A plan was beginning to take shape in my head but I didn't rush it. First I had to be sure that I knew him well. Any man that can con an entire world into building a battleship for him then steal it from them is not going to stop there. The ship would need a crew, a base for refuelling and a mission. Fuel had been taken care of first. The gutted hull of Oggett's dream was silent witness to that. There were countless planets that could be used as a base. Getting a crew would be more difficult in these peace times though I could think of a few answers to that one too. Raid the mental hospitals and jails. Do that often enough and you would have a crew that would make any pirate chief proud. The piracy was of course too mean an ambition to ascribe to this boy. Did he want to rule a whole planet or maybe an entire system? Or more? I shuddered a bit as the thought hit me. Was there really anything that could stop a plan like this once it got rolling? During the kingly wars any number of types with a couple of ships and less brains than Pepe had set up just this kind of empire. They were all pulled down in the end since their success depended on one man rule but the price that had to be paid first. This was the plan and I felt in my bones that I was right. I might be wrong on some of the minor details they weren't important. I knew the general outline of the idea just as when I bumped into a mark I knew how much it could be taken for and just how to do it. There are natural laws in crime as in every other field of human endeavour I knew this was it. Get the communications officer in here at once I shouted at the intercom. Also a couple of clerks with transcribers and fast this is a matter of life or death. This last had a horror ring and I realised my enthusiasm had carried me out of character. This was the first time that I had ever seen a man in colour straightened my ribbons and squared my shoulders. By the time they knocked on the door I was all admiral again. Acting on my orders the ship dropped out of warp drive so our Siaman could get through to the other operators. Captain Steng grumbled as we floated there with the engine silent wasting precious days while half his crew was involved in getting out what appeared to be insane instructions. My plan was beyond his understanding Captain and I am an admiral even a temporary one. Following my orders the navigator again constructed a sphere of speculation in his tank. The surface of the sphere contacted all the star systems a days flight ahead of the maximum flight of the stolen battleship. There weren't too many of these at first and the Siaman could handle them all calling each in turn and sending by news releases to the naval public relations offices there. As the sphere kept growing it started to drop behind steadily losing ground. By this time I had a general release prepared along with directions for use and follow up which he sent to Central 14. The battery of Siaman there contacted the individual planets and all we had to do was keep adding to the list of planets. The release and follow ups all harped on one theme I expanded on it, waxed enthusiastic condemned it and worked it into an interview. I wrote as many variations as I could so it could be slipped into as many different formats as possible. In one form or other I wanted the basic information in every magazine, newspaper and journal inside that expanding sphere.  Captain Steng asked peevishly. He had long since given up the entire operation as a futile one and spent most of the time in his cabin worrying about the effect of it on his surface record. Boredom or curiosity had driven him out and he was reading all of my releases with horror. Billionaire to found own wild space yacht filled with luxuries to last a hundred years. The captain's face grew red as he flipped at the stack of notes. What connection does this tribe have with catching those murderers? When we were alone he was anything but Curtis to me having assured himself by not too subtle questioning that I was a spurious admiral. There was no doubt I was still in charge but our relationship was anything but formal. This tribe and nonsense, I told him, is the bait that will snag our fish, a trap for Pepe and his partner in crime. Who is this mysterious billionaire? Me, I said. I've always wanted to be rich. But the ship, the space yacht, where is it? Being built now in the naval shipyard at Uderider we're almost ready to go there now as soon as this batch of instructions goes out. Captain Steng dropped the releases onto the table and carefully wiped his hands off to remove any possible infection. He was trying to be fair and considerate of my views and not succeeding in the slightest. It doesn't make sense, he growled. How can you be sure this killer will ever read one of these things? And if he does, why should he be interested? He looks to me as if you're wasting time while he slips through your fingers. The alarm should be out and every ship notified. The navy alerted and patrol sent on all space lanes which he could easily avoid by going around or better yet not even bother about since he can lick any ship we have. That's not the answer, I told him. This pepe is smart and as tricky as a fixed gambling machine. That's his strength and his weakness as well. Characters like that never think it is possible for someone else to outthink them which is what I'm going to do. Modest aren't you? Steng said. I try not to be, I told him. False modesty is the refuge of the incompetent. I'm going to catch this thug and I'll tell you how I'm going to do it. He's going to hit again soon and wherever he hits there will be some kind of periodical with my plant in it. Whatever else he's after he is going to take all the magazines and papers he can find partly to satisfy his own ego but mostly to keep track of things he's interested in such as ship sailings. You're just guessing, you don't know all this. His automatic assumption of my incompetence was beginning to get me annoyed. I bridled my temper and tried one last time. Yes, I'm guessing an informed guess but I do know some facts as well. Ogitt's dream was cleaned out of all reading matter that was one of the first things I checked. We can't stop the battleship from attacking again but we can see to it that the time after that she sails into a trap. I don't know. The captain said, it sounds to me like I never heard what it sounded like which is alright since he was getting under my skin and might have been tempted to pull my pseudo rank. The alarm sirens cut his sentence off and we footraced to the communications room. Captain Steng won by nose. It was his ship and he knew all the shortcuts. The Simon was holding out a transcription but he summed it up in one sentence. He looked at me while he talked and his face was hard and cold. He heard again knocked out a navy supply satellite 34 men dead. If your plan doesn't work Admiral the captain whispered hoarsely in my ear I'll personally see that you're flayed alive. If my plan doesn't work captain there won't be enough of my skin left to pick up with a tweezer. Now if you please I'd like to get to Uradayde and pick up my ship as soon as possible. The easy going hatred and contempt of all my associates had annoyed me thrown me off balance. I was thinking with anger now not with logic. Forcing a bit of control I ordered my thoughts belay that last command I shouted getting back my old space dog mood get a call through first and find out if any of our plants were picked up during the raid. While the Simon unfocused his eyes and mumbled under his breath I riffled some papers relaxed and cool. The ratings and officers waited tensely and made some slight attempt to conceal the hatred of me. It took about 10 minutes to get an answer. Affirmative the Simon said the store ship docked there 20 hours before the attack. Among other things it left newspapers containing the article. Very good I said calmly send a general order to suspend all future activity with the planted releases send it by Simon only no mention of on any other naval signaling equipment there's a good chance now it might be overheard. I strolled out slowly in command of the situation keeping my face turned away until I could see the cold sweat. It was a fast run to Oodrider where my billionaire's yacht, the Eldorado was waiting. The dockyard commander showed me the ship and made an over effort to control his curiosity. I took a sadistic revenge on the navy by not telling him a word about my mission. After checking out the controls and special apparatus with the technicians I cleared the ship. There was a tape in the automatic navigator that would put me on the course mentioned in all the articles just to press the button that would be on my way. I pressed the button. It was a beautiful ship and the dockyard had been lavished with their attention to detail from bow to rear tube she was plated in pure gold. There are other metals with a higher albedo but none give a richer effect. All the fittings inside and out were either machine turned or plated. All this work could not have been done in the time allotted. The navy must have adapted a luxury yacht to my needs. Everything was ready either Pepe would make his move or I would sail onto my billionaire's paradise planet. If that happened it would be best if I stayed there. Now that I was in space past the point of no return all the doubts I had dismissed fought for attention.  Hold on there sailor I said to myself using my best admiral's voice nothing has changed it's still the best and only plan possible under the circumstances. Was it? Could I be sure that Pepe flying his mountain of a ship and eating navy rations would be interested in some of the comforts and luxuries of life? Or if the luxuries didn't catch his eye would he be interested in the planetary homesteading gear? I had loaded the cards with all the things he might want and planted the information where he could get it. He had the bait now but would he grab the hook? I couldn't tell and I could work myself up into a neurotic state if I kept running through the worry cycle. It took an effort to concentrate on anything else but it had to be made. The next four days passed very slowly. When the alarm blew off all I felt was an intense sensation of relief. I might be dead and blasted to dust in the next few minutes but that didn't seem to make much difference. Pepe had swallowed the bait there was only one ship in the galaxy that could knock back a blip that big at such a distance. It was closing fast using the raw energy of the battleship engines for a headlong approach. My ship bucked a bit as the tug beams locked on at maximum distance. The radio bleeped at me for attention at the same time. I waited as long as I dared and then flipped it on. The voice boomed out that you are under the guns of a warship don't attempt to run signal take evasive action or any other way who are you and what the devil you what! I spluttered into the mic with a scanner on so they could see me but my own screen stayed dark they weren't sending any picture in a way it made my act easier I just play to an unseen audience they could see the rich cut of my clothes the luxurious cabin behind me of course they couldn't see my hands it doesn't matter who we are the radio boomed again just obey orders if you care to live stay away from the controls until we have tied on then do exactly as I say the distant clangs as magnetic grapples hit the hull a little later the ship lurched drawn home against the battleship I let my eyes roll in fear looking around for a way to escape and taking a peek at the outside scanners the yacht was flush against the space filling the bulk of the other ship I pressed the button that sent the torch wielding robot on his way now let me tell you something I snapped into the mic wiping away the worried billionaire expression first I'll repeat your own warning obey orders if you want to live I'll show you why when I threw the big switch a carefully worked out sequence took place first of course the hull was magnetised and the bombs fused a light blinked as the scanner in the cabin turned off and the one in the generator room came on I checked the monitor screen to make sure then started into the space suit it had to be done fast at the same time it was necessary to talk naturally they must still think of me as sitting in the control room that's the ships generators you're looking at I said 98% of their output is now feeding into calls that make an electromagnet of the ship's hull you will find it very hard to separate us and I would advise you not to try the suit was on and I kept the running chatter up through the mic in the helmet relaying to the ship's transmitter the scene in the monitor receiver changed you are now looking at a hydrogen bomb that is primed and aware of the magnetic field holding our ships together it will of course go off if you try to pull away I grabbed up the monitor receiver and ran towards the airlock this is a different bomb now I said keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the slowly opening outer door this one has receptors on the hull attempt to destroy any part of the ship or even gain entry to it and this one will detonate I was in space now leaping across the gigantic wall of the other ship what do you want these were the first words Pepper had spoken since his first threats I want to talk to you arrange a deal something that would be profitable to both of us but let me first show you the rest of the bombs so you won't get any strange ideas about cooperating of course I had to show in the rest of the bombs there was no getting out of it the scanners in the ship were following a planned program I made light talk about all my massive armament that would carry us both to perdition while I climbed through the hull on the battleship's hull there was no armour or warning devices at this spot it had been chosen carefully from the blueprints yeah yeah I'll tell you a word for it stop with this roping report a bit and tell me what you have in mind this time I didn't answer him because I was running and panting like a dog and had the mic turned off just ahead if the blueprints were right I brought to the control room Pepe should be there I stepped through gun out and pointed at the back of his head Angelina stood next to him looking at the screen the game's over I said stand up slowly and keep your hands in sight what do you mean he said angrily looking at the screen in front of him the girl caught wise first she spun around and pointed he's here they both stared, gaped at me caught off guard and completely unprepared for a rest crime king I told him end your girlfriend Angelina rolled her eyes up and slid slowly to the floor real fate I didn't care I kept the gun on Pepe's pudgy form while he picked her up and carried her to an acceleration against the wall what what what happened now he quaved the question his pouchy jaws shook I swear there were tears in his eyes I was not impressed by his acting he was floating in space he stumbled over to a chair half dropping into it well they'd do anything to me Angelina asked her eyes were open now I have no idea what will happen to you I told her truthfully that's up for the courts to decide but but he made me do all those things she wailed she was young, dark and beautiful the tears did nothing to spoil this Pepe dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders shook sit up Pepe I find it hard to believe that you are crying there are some naval ships on the way now the automatic alarm was triggered a minute ago I'm sure they'll be glad to see the man who don't let them take me please Angelina was on her feet now her back pressed to the wall they'll put me in prison, do things to my mind she shrunk away as she spoke stumbling along the wall I looked back at Pepe not wanting to have my eyes off him for an instant there's nothing I can do I glanced away and a small door was swinging open and she was gone don't try to run I shouted after her, it can't do any good Pepe made a strangling noise and I looked back to him quickly he was sitting up now and his face was dry of tears in fact he was laughing not crying so she caught you too Mr Weisskopf, poor little Angelina with the soft eyes he broke down again shaking with laughter what do you mean I growled don't you catch it yet the story she told you was true except she twisted it around a bit the whole plan, building the battleship then stealing it, was hers she pulled me into it played me like an accordion I fell in love with her hating myself and happy all at the same time well, I'm glad it's over at least I gave her a chance to get away though I thought I would explode when she went into that innocence act the cold feeling was now a ball of ice that threatened to paralyze me you're lying I said hoarsely and even I didn't believe it sorry, that's the way it is your brains boys will pick my skull to pieces and find the truth out anyway, there's no point lying now we'll search the ship she can't hide for long she won't have to, Pepe said there's a fast scout we picked up stowed in one of the holes that must be leaving now we could feel the vibration distantly through the floor the neighbour will get her I was so convinced that I felt maybe, he said suddenly slumped and tired no longer laughing maybe they will, but I gave her a chance it's all over for me now but she knows that I loved her to the end he bared his teeth in sudden pain not that she will care in the slightest I kept the gun on him and neither has moved while the navy ships pulled up and their boots stamped outside I had captured my battleship and the raids were over and I couldn't be blamed if the girl had slipped away if she evaded the navy ships that was there for not mine I had my victory alright then why did it taste like ashes in my mouth it's a big galaxy but it wasn't going to be big enough to hide Angelina now, I can be conned once but only once the next time we met things were going to be very different end of the misplaced battleship by Harry Harrison recording by Barney Shergold